Bella's POV
The room was silent except for the ticking wall clock and the occasional rustle of the curtains swaying with the night breeze. I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. My mind, however, was far from still. It was running a marathon I never signed up for.
Today’s chemistry class had been... weird.
No, not just weird—confusing, heart-flipping, logic-breaking weird.
Adrian and I had been paired up, of course. Fate clearly had a cruel sense of humor. Our experiment went surprisingly well—like, too well. For once, we didn’t argue. He actually smiled at me, and worse, he said something about how "we make a good team when we’re not trying to one-up each other."
And I laughed. Like a real laugh.
Was I—was I actually blushing when he said that?
I pressed my hands against my cheeks, trying to cool down the heat that threatened to rise again just thinking about it. What the hell is wrong with me?
But then—like a shadow creeping in to steal the warmth—that memory resurfaced. The one I always tried to lock away.
8th grade. Science Day.
My fingers tightened around my pillow.
I had worked for weeks on that project. It was unique, it was ambitious, and it was everything I had poured my heart into. I’d even skipped outings with my friends to perfect that model. Mom had stayed up late helping me with the finishing touches.
And then on the event day—my day—I saw him. Adrian. Standing confidently next to a model that looked almost exactly like mine. Same concept. Same core design. Just with a flashier presentation and minor tweaks that made it look like an “improvement.”
My heart had shattered into a thousand confused, betrayed pieces. I still remembered how I stood there, watching him explain it to the judges with that smug smile. I still presented mine, hands trembling, throat dry.
I didn’t win. He did. And I cried that whole night, hidden under the covers, replaying every second and wondering—how did he even know about my idea? Had he stolen it? Or had I just been foolish to trust anyone with even a whisper of it?
That was the day I swore—no more Adrian Raines.
No more letting him get close. No more trusting him.
So what the hell was happening now?
I hugged my knees, whispering to myself, “You can’t like him, Bella. You don’t like him. You know what he did. He’s done way too many bad things to you. Don’t forget that.”
But the thing is—no matter how much I repeated it—his voice from earlier, that smirk, and the way he had looked at me when our hands brushed during the experiment… it all kept playing in a loop, tugging at something I didn’t want to name.
Was this hate?
Or was something else beginning to twinkle behind it?
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