After school, in the library. The sun dipped low, painting the room in a soft orange light, shadows stretching lazily across the floor. The faint smell of old books and pine lingered, mingling with the soft rustle of pages being turned. A few students were scattered around, heads bent over textbooks, whispering softly to each other. It was quiet, peaceful—the kind of peace that made Eliza's thoughts louder.
She sat in her usual spot by the window, her textbook open but long forgotten. Her eyes kept drifting to the boy sprawled across from her—Lucifer—headphones on, chewing absently on his pen cap, dark hair falling into his eyes. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing faint bruises from basketball practice. He looked unfairly good—annoyingly good. The kind of good that made Eliza's heart trip over itself in a way that was completely unfair.
She sighed softly, twirling her pen between her fingers. The sunlight caught on Lucifer's eyes whenever he shifted, making them glint like amber. It was distracting—he was distracting. Eliza tore her gaze away quickly, cheeks warming. Get it together, she scolded herself. He's your best friend, not some movie crush. But her heart didn't listen, thudding traitorously whenever he so much as breathed.
She tried—she really did—to focus on the worksheet in front of her. The words blurred together, and her pen tapped absently against the paper. Maybe if Lucifer didn't look so annoyingly good in that hoodie, it wouldn't be so hard. Maybe if his lips didn't curl up every time he smirked, she could actually focus on something that wasn't him.
Of course, he didn't notice. He was too busy doodling tiny dragons in the margins of his notes, lips twitching with a faint smirk at something playing through his headphones. He'd probably laugh if he knew—tease her relentlessly until she turned red enough to combust. That was Lucifer: all lazy smiles and sharp remarks that shouldn't make her heart stutter but did anyway.
"You're zoning out again," Lucifer muttered, not bothering to glance up. His voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the quiet hum of the library's ceiling fans. He pulled one earphone out, arching an eyebrow at her with that infuriatingly amused look that made her want to smack him and melt into the floor at the same time.
Eliza flinched, snapping her eyes back to her book, heat rushing to her cheeks. "N-No, I'm not!" she blurted, a little too quickly.
"Uh-huh. Sure." His tone was dry, amused. "What's the answer to number five, then?"
Eliza stared at the page blankly, brain short-circuiting. "...Seven?"
Lucifer snorted, finally glancing at her with a smirk that did nothing to calm her racing heart. "It's an essay question, genius."
She groaned, slumping forward dramatically, forehead thunking against the table. "Okay, fine, I wasn't paying attention. Bite me."
His lips quirked up, eyes glinting with mischief. "Told you not to binge those dramas all night, dumbass. You spend all day thinking about drama scenes and can't even focus on studying."
"I do focus on studying!" Eliza huffed, pouting as she smacked his arm half-heartedly. Her fingers tingled where they brushed his sleeve, and she quickly pulled back, trying to ignore the way her heart did an awkward little flip.
He rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath. "Whatever you say, Drama Queen."
Eliza buried her nose in her book to hide her blush, heart doing somersaults at the warmth in his tone. This was exactly why she couldn't risk him finding out. She couldn't lose him. Not when he was one of the few good things she had. But sometimes, she couldn't help but wish he'd just get a clue.
She snuck another glance at him, watching the way his lashes brushed his cheeks when he blinked, how his fingers drummed idly against the table in rhythm to whatever song was playing. His rings—because of course he wore rings, the dramatic idiot—glinted faintly in the light, and Eliza bit her lip to hide a smile.
"What?" Lucifer drawled, eyes sliding to hers. His smirk softened into something almost fond, head tilting slightly. "Do I have something on my face, or are you just that obsessed with me?"
Eliza spluttered, nearly dropping her pen. "I—I was just—no! God, you're so full of yourself," she grumbled, forcing herself to look anywhere but at his stupidly smug face.
He chuckled, low and lazy, the sound making her stomach twist in ways it definitely shouldn't. "If you say so, princess."
She huffed, cheeks burning, and pointedly went back to her book. The words still blurred together, but she forced herself to pretend to read, if only so Lucifer wouldn't see the way her fingers trembled slightly. It wasn't fair—how easily he got under her skin, how effortlessly he made her heart race with a single glance.
The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by the soft scratch of Lucifer's pen and the faint music leaking from his headphones. Eliza risked another glance at him—at the way his lashes brushed his cheeks, at the way his fingers tapped absently against the table. The small scar just above his left eyebrow from a basketball accident last year. The way his lips parted slightly when he was deep in thought.
Her fingers curled into her sleeves to keep from reaching out, heart aching with how badly she wanted to close the distance—how badly she wanted him to just see her. But he went back to his notes, completely unaware of the way her eyes lingered on him. Unaware of the way her fingers clenched to keep herself from brushing that dark hair out of his eyes.
And that was the worst part.
Wanting to reach out but never quite brave enough.
Always stuck in that space between friendship and something more, teetering on the edge but never daring to fall.
Eliza sighed softly, pressing her forehead to the cool surface of the table. She was so screwed.
to be continued...