The static from the rainy night in the lab didn't dissipate; it followed us back into the sterile, sun-drenched hallways of Nanshi No. 1.

The next Monday, the air felt different. Every time I passed Lu Shaodong in the corridor, he didn't just ignore me like he used to. He would linger, his gaze burning through my back, or he'd offer a smirk that felt far too intimate for two people who were supposed to be "academic rivals."

But the real trouble started during the lunch break.

I was sitting in the library courtyard, tucked away behind a row of ginkgo trees, trying to finish a literature essay. A shadow fell across my notebook. I looked up, expecting to see Lu's mocking face, but instead, it was Lin Feng, a soft-spoken boy from the Student Council who had been helping me with the upcoming Science Fair logistics.

"Ling Yin," he said, handing me a chilled bottle of peach oolong tea. "I noticed you were here early. I... I also finished those project outlines you asked for."

"Oh, thank you, Lin Feng. You didn't have to bring the tea," I said, offering a polite smile. He sat down on the stone bench next to me, a bit closer than necessary. He was nice—the kind of safe, predictable boy my mother would approve of.

"It's no trouble. Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to go to the new bookstore downtown this weekend? They have a rare edition of—"

THUD.

A basketball slammed into the trunk of the ginkgo tree just inches above Lin Feng's head, showering us with yellow leaves. We both jumped.

"My bad," a familiar, gravelly voice drawled.

Lu Shaodong was standing ten feet away, his hands in his pockets, looking like he'd just committed a casual crime. He walked toward us, his eyes fixed not on the ball, but on Lin Feng. The temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop ten degrees.

"The wind caught it," Lu said, though there wasn't even a breeze. He stepped between us, effectively cutting Lin Feng off from my sight. He leaned down and picked up the ball, then spun it slowly on his finger, his eyes dark and narrowed. "What are we talking about? Project outlines? Or rare books?"

"Lu Shaodong," I hissed, standing up. "What is your problem?"

"My problem?" He turned his focus to me, his gaze scanning the bottle of tea in my hand. He snatched it out of my grasp with a lightning-fast motion. "My problem is that this tea is full of artificial sweeteners. It's bad for your brain, Scholar Ling. And we have a lab session in twenty minutes."

"Hey," Lin Feng stammered, standing up to confront him. "That was for her. You can't just—"

Lu stepped into Lin Feng's personal space. He didn't raise his hand, but his sheer presence was enough to make the other boy stagger back. Lu was a head taller, his shoulders broader, and he radiated a kind of raw, territorial aggression that I had never seen him use on anyone but his basketball opponents.

"She's busy," Lu said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet rumble. "She has equations to solve and a partner who doesn't like his time being wasted. Go find someone else to buy tea for, Lin. Before the ball 'accidentally' hits something else."

Lin Feng looked at me, then at the smoldering fury in Lu's eyes. He muttered a quick goodbye and scrambled away.

I was trembling with indignation. "You are a psycho! He was just being nice!"

Lu didn't look remorseful. He twisted the cap off the tea, took a long swig, and then tossed the half-empty bottle into a nearby trash can with perfect accuracy.

"He was being a pest," Lu countered, stepping closer to me. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, not painfully, but firmly. "And you were being naive. People like that... they don't care about the books, Ling Yin. They care about the girl hiding behind the glasses."

"And what do you care about?" I demanded, trying to pull my arm away. "Since when do you care who I talk to?"

He pulled me closer, forcing me to look up at him. The arrogance was still there, but beneath it was something frantic, something he was clearly trying to suppress. His thumb brushed against the soft skin of my inner wrist, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my heart.

"I care about my partner," he said, his voice thick. "I don't like sharing my resources. And right now, your brain, your time, and your attention belong to the Physics project. My project."

"You're jealous," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second, and for a fleeting moment, the "Bad Boy" mask slipped. His pupils dilated, and he looked almost vulnerable. Then, the smirk returned, sharper and more defensive than ever.

"Jealous? Don't flatter yourself, Owl," he scoffed, though his breathing was shallow. He let go of my wrist and turned away. "I just hate losing my edge because you're distracted by some third-rate poet. Lab. Ten minutes. Don't make me come find you again."

He walked away, but he didn't head toward the gym. He headed toward the basement lab.

I stood there, my wrist still tingling from his touch. He was lying. He was a brilliant, arrogant, beautiful liar. And for the first time, I realized that the "danger" in the lab wasn't the equipment or the exams.

It was the fact that Lu Shaodong was marking his territory. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to run away, or let him.