Chapter 3

Before Layla could finish typing, another message popped up: [I see you. Either come down yourself, or I'll go up and ask the dorm manager to get you. Your call.]

Layla stared at him, lost for words.

Serena leaned over to check the messages, then facepalmed. "Well, no choice now. Go on, girl. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be. If it's trouble, you can't dodge it anyway. Stick to the story that your phone was infected with a virus!"

Layla was on the verge of tears as she reluctantly dragged herself out of the room.

As soon as she got downstairs, she could feel even more eyes on her. Elijah was a big deal at Starry College, the star of the drama department.

He was handsome, talented, and while he wasn't exactly cold, he was definitely not the type to wait outside the girls' dorm. But today? There was definitely some juicy gossip brewing.

Layla forced herself to walk up to him, head down, staring at her shoes. "E-Elijah."

Elijah didn't say a word, just kept his eyes on her.

His gaze was so heavy, it felt like it was suffocating her. Layla twisted the hem of her shirt, her mind going completely blank. All the lines she'd rehearsed with Serena were gone.

She said, "About that message—"

"Yeah." Elijah finally spoke, his voice low but calm, which only made her more nervous. "Explain."

"I— I—" Layla stammered, her eyes darting everywhere but his face. "I don't think we're really a good match."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to bite her tongue. 'Seriously, what a lame excuse!' she thought.

Sure enough, Elijah let out a bitter laugh, and his eyes were completely devoid of warmth. "Not a good match?"

He stepped closer, and Layla instinctively backed up until her heel hit the stairs. "What's not a good match? Why didn't you say anything last night?"

Everyone nearby perked up their ears. 'Wait, last night? That's some serious gossip!' they thought.

Layla's face flushed bright red, and she wished the ground would swallow her up. "It's— It feels like— Oh, drop it already!" She spun around, trying to bolt up the stairs.

But Elijah was quicker. He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not hurting her, and pulled her along. In a few steps, they slipped into a secluded hallway corner by the stairs.

Layla stumbled as he tugged her, her back pressed against the cool wall. Elijah kept hold of her wrist with one hand, while the other braced against the wall beside her head, trapping her between himself and the wall.

They were so close, she could catch the fresh scent of his recent shower, mixed with a faint, crisp note that was uniquely his. He leaned down, his breath almost brushing her face.

"Layla," Elijah said, his voice low and dangerously magnetic. "Make yourself clear."

Layla's heart was racing. Trapped in this small space with him, surrounded by his presence, her mind was even more chaotic. "I— I think we— " she stammered, her eyes darting everywhere except at his face, which was just inches away.

Elijah stared at her, taking in her guilty and cowardly look. He remembered how she'd unconsciously snuggled into his arms last night while she slept, and how her lashes had trembled when he stole a kiss from her that morning.

His irritation didn't die down. In fact, it only burned hotter. He leaned in even closer, their noses almost touching.

"Is this because of last night?" Elijah asked, his breath warm.

Layla's face was so hot she felt like she could fry an egg on it. She nodded frantically, then just as quickly shook her head.

"Say it," Elijah pressed, not giving her any room to wriggle out of it.

Layla took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and blurted out, "Yes! That's it! My back is sore, my legs feel like jelly! Isn't that enough proof? We're not physically compatible at all. If we keep this up, it's gonna cause trouble later, so we might—"

But she didn't get to finish. Elijah cut her off with a kiss.

It wasn't the usual gentle or playful kiss. This one was punishing, forceful, and bordering on aggressive. He pried her lips open, his tongue invading, stealing her breath, and swallowing every absurd excuse before she could even voice them.

Layla was stunned, her eyes wide as she instinctively pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. But he only pinned her harder against the wall, his arm locking tightly around her waist.

Their lips and tongues tangled, his scent and strength completely enveloped her, every movement screaming possessiveness, like he was marking her as his.