Then there was the iced tea.
She’d taken the last sip before leaving her desk in the library, folding the empty carton neatly before setting it aside. She never left messes, even temporarily, but there hadn’t been a trash can nearby—and she was in a rush to the bathroom.
When she returned, the empty carton was gone. And in its place sat a fresh one, still cold to the touch. Not just the same brand—her usual lemon flavor. Not just placed nearby—positionedexactlywhere she would reach for it, mere inches from her AP Calc textbook.
She stared at it for a long moment, like it might come alive and bite her.
This wasn’t a casual, mindless infatuation. In the pastfew days, Kian had beenstudyingher. As if the spell were sharpening his focus, making him moreattunedto her.
And apparently, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
“People aretaaalking,” Quin sang in the auditorium control booth, tossing a tennis ball into the air and catching it without looking.
Quin was president of Student Council. But perhaps it was more accurate to say that Quin was more like a jester who’d accidentally become king: out of their depth and ridiculous and, frankly, an insult to Student Councils everywhere. They clearly had no interest in doing their basic duties, like attending the monthly school faculty meeting—Riya had to cover this month—or even presiding over their biweekly council meetings.
Today, she’d wasted almost an hour hunting Quin down, only to find them napping on a couch in the control booth.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Riya replied, willing her fingers to relax around her pen.
“Oh, I think you do.” Quin tossed the ball again, their grin widening.“Riya and Kian, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I—”
Riya sighed. “Anyway,” she went on, “you were supposed to review the agenda for Tuesday’s meeting. Flora wants to print copies.” Flora, their shy sophomore secretary, had practically melted under Riya’s intense stare in their last meeting. “Admin also wants us to nail down our prom theme, ideally in the next couple weeks.”
“Hmm, the agenda? I approve.”
“You haven’t read it.”
“I trust you.”
“I’d rather you read the agenda.”
Quin gave Riya a feline smile, their features as striking as ever with their pale blond hair and storm-gray eyes.
“Ah, Riya, my trusty number two. How I admire your work ethic.” They stretched out their arms and yawned. “But there’s no rush. And, may I remind you, the deadline to choose a prom theme isn’t untilDecember. We haveplentyof time.”
Riya’s glasses slid down her nose. She shoved them back into place.
“No, wedon’t,” she said flatly. “We still need to draft a budget; start fundraising; print tickets and promotional materials; hire a DJ, photographer, and caterer; secure a venue and decorations—”
“Okay, okay, I get it—”
“All by December.”
“Wow.” Quin raised a brow. “All right, all right. I get that you operate on a... unique level, but you gotta learn to let loose instead of running your life like a Fortune 500 company.”
They propped themselves up on their elbows, watching her. “Seriously, though. You ever think about taking a break?”
Riya’s fingers twitched around her pen. “I don’t need a break.”
“No? Because you’ve got that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one that says,I’m Riya Khan, and I have fourteen different spreadsheets in my brain, and I will not rest until all of them are in perfect harmony.” Quin grinned, tossing their tennis ball in the air. “You’re a senior, for God’s sake. Chill out a little. Make some memories.”
“I—” Riya’s cheeks flushed. “I have memories. Good memories.”
Quin tilted their head, considering. “Mm, I guess that’s true. Since, you know, you’ve gotKian Khowrapped around your finger now.”
