He didn’t answer. Just stared at her with those unreadable eyes, the intensity of his gaze making her chest tighten. She could feel something stirring inside, something that made her want to obey—to take that flower from him, to do as he asked, maybe he liked her and wanted to confess to her, but a rather weired way to confess, cuz it wouldn't make sense, who kept the flower.

She didn’t know why she said yes. Maybe it was the way his voice had sounded when he spoke. Maybe it was the way he had looked at her, like she was the only person in the world. Or maybe it was because something about him—something dark, something dangerous—pulled her in.

“Alright,” she said, accepting the flower, her fingers brushing his as she did. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. She quickly turned, walking away before he could say anything more.

But just as she reached the end of the hallway, she heard his voice again, a soft murmur that felt like a secret.

“Don’t let her see you.”