In A Lion’s Den

Hours later, in the middle of Mr. Davies’ droning recitation of Gatsby, Sylvia just sat casually on her seat with her legs crossed and her arm resting on the desk while the other leaned against her chin.

In her thoughts, she remembered in detail that first instinctive prickle:

That new guy, Raphael Kiersten.

He didn't look away.

Not when she entered, nor when the classroom went dead silent.

Not even a flinch or realization when she walked straight to him.

Everyone pretended to do something else, but he just watched her....

That calm, curious, and seemingly polite confused look like she was an interesting new classmate instead of the walking reputation that she carefully manufactured and prepared.

His scent smelled like a faint trace of his morning shower with a hint of clean, expensive cologne, some mixture of vanilla, wood, and cinnamon. The smell still lingered through her as she twiddled her strands in between her fingers.

She didn't sense fear or awe. Just mild acknowledgement.

That alone made the rumor Callahan mentioned to her feel suddenly, dangerously plausible.

Because if this boy really was the principal’s nephew or even if he carried that kind of untouchable authority, then his lack of reaction wasn’t just some sort of bravery, but it was privilege like nothing fears him.

Is he challenging me?

Sylvia grinned in her seat as she tilted her head slightly to catch a glimpse of him. As soon as she could feel his gaze settled on the back of her head, she looked away.

Good.

Let him look.

Let him wonder.

It has been decided. I won't be playing nicely.

She was going to test him carefully until she knew exactly what kind of power sat behind those calm crimson eyes.

If Callahan was right about his hunch and if he really was connected in any sort of way or form, then breaking him would be the sweetest kind of rebellion.

Sylvia leaned back in her chair, just as the sheer tights caught a glimpse of light from her legs. She let out another small smile on her lips.

The class resumed, but the game had just begun.

After the first morning session, the bell rang in dissonance, indicating a signal for recess, a short thirty-minute snack break before the next period.

Chairs scraped back in hurried unison, and bags zipped in quick succession as footsteps pattered in a rush toward the door like a sudden synchronized exodus.

No one dared to look back, not even a word of goodbye.

In a snap, the classroom felt still as desks were left abandoned with a bunch of leftover notes, forgotten pens, and chairs in disarray, while the faint echo of hallway chatter faded off into the distance.

Because of the new presence in the room, every student vacated the room to avoid any confrontation with her.

Only two students remained inside.

Sitting in silence.

One of those left behind, Raphael blinked in surprise after seeing the room empty before he stuffed his notebook back into his bag.

A soft breeze flew through the windows, flinging the pieces of paper into the air.

The flaming locks of the student, reclining against the back of her seat,  swung lightly in the same direction as the wind. Delicate strands scraped all over the wooden grains of the chair's edges.

No one else is here. Just him and the new gal, Sylvia.

 

"Hm? Seems like everyone's hungry for snacks," he commented, striking up a conversation so casually.

Sylvia leaned forward as she twisted her body slightly to glance over Raphael.  A hint of surprise and disbelief drew across her face with the sudden conversation.

 

Is he playing?  She initially thought. 

 

Raphael glanced back at her, awaiting her reply.

 

"Perhaps," she muttered before leaning back once again, arms swinging on the side.

" You are unbelievable," she murmured under her breath.

 

"Sorry?"

 

"It's nothing," she shrugged off. Her tongue clicked. 

Does he ever realize what dangerous possibilities could happen to him right now?

 

How gullible. . .

 

Raphael noticed the slight tension in the room, especially towards Sylvia, who seemed to be expecting something .... from him?

He couldn't read the room or her mood.

Instead of confronting, he decided not to bother her further as he pulled out a simple paperback book from his bag to read.

The silence between the two of them continued to drag on longer while Raphael just succumbed to his thoughts, flipping through the thin pages of his book.

Should he eat in the cafeteria later?

What kind of food would be waiting for him?

Rock-hard steaks? Cold, soggy vegetables? Sloppy stew?

Those thoughts just sent a chill down his spine. He read about it, and in no way would he experience those kinds of culinary disasters in his taste buds.

While he was flipping through the pages, the chair across him moved slightly closer to his desk, and the figure in front of him moved subtly.

His eyes glanced up, seeing Sylvia now completely turned in his direction, straddling the chair backwards while leaning forward with her arms folded over, and her chin resting against it.

Orange fringes with a gradient tint of black and reds swept lightly on her arms as she tilted her head sideways.

One of her legs propped up on the seat while the other sprawled wide in a sluggish manner, causing her rolled-up skirt to dangerously ride open, revealing a slight red tone in the sheer black tights.

She looked utterly at ease, as if the room fully belonged to her now.

Raphael got distracted for a second, but eventually,  he realized that she was looking at him directly. Her emerald green orbs carefully danced around, studying every twitch and change of his expression before a hint of amusement smiled through her eyes.

"What are you reading?" she playfully asked as she inched closer, curiously looking over the book he was holding.

 

"Just some novel about friendships," he casually replied and showed her the book cover.

 

Sylvia chuckled slightly at his reply and stood up slightly over her leg as she pulled herself further close to Raphael's desk, leaning forward to peek at his book, but her gaze flicked up to assess his features for any slight flinch or discomfort, like testing the waters of his boundaries.

The familiar scent of sweet cherry candy coming from her perfume enveloped his senses once more as the proximity between him and her grew much closer.

Raphael's gaze didn't falter either and just stared straight into her.

Then, he noticed her index finger lifting up....

Slowly....

Carefully.....

gliding in between the opened book's pages towards the edge.

Back and forth.

Moving slow and deliberate strokes like a tease, as if trying to send him a sign.

 

Raphael just watched her fingers lingering in between the pages, harassing his book while his brows furrowed, giving her a confused look, not entirely sure about this.

 

"Ummm...what are you doing?" he politely asked, but with a slight tension.

 

Sylvia's eyes just gleamed playfully in a predatory gaze as she chuckled softly under her breath, probably laughing at his reaction.

"Just checking the binding's sturdiness..." she murmured in a sultry tone. "You know. . .Some books break easily when you push them."

Once again, another inch grew closer as she leaned in further. Her finger stopped moving, pushing the page with her tips and scratching the surface. 

Meanwhile, Raphael didn't pull away or lean in either. His demeanor just stayed calm, steady, with his crimson eyes still staring without blinking.

In that moment, Sylvia felt that once more.

Not fear, nor bravado, but something else entirely, and that provokes her to push harder like a challenge.

How far could she bend him before he snaps?

The bell could ring again anytime soon, but right now, the classroom is her home ground, and Raphael just walked into her trap like prey alone in the lion's den.

What a coincidence.

Sylvia Macaulay had just decided that Raphael Kiersten was no longer a rumor to be careful around.

But a puzzle she intended to take apart piece by piece.