It was a high school party. Blaine’s laugh cut through the bass of the music. His hand rested too low on Sirenelle’s waist. Andras saw it from the corner.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t blink.
Sirenelle didn’t look at him. But she felt him. His stare, hot like fire.
Blaine leaned close to Sirenelle’s ear. She smiled, a fake one, but Blaine didn’t notice. Andras did.
He moved.
“Take your hands off her,” Andras said. Calm. Cold.
Blaine turned. “What’s your problem, junior?”
“You are.”
Before Blaine could say another word, Andras punched him.
One hit. Enough.
The party lights still flashed when Blaine hit the floor.
Everyone stopped dancing. Music kept playing. But now, all eyes were on Andras.
He stood still, chest rising fast, fists tight.
Blaine got up slowly, blood on his nose, eyes burning with hate. “You think you’re big now, junior?” he growled.
Before he could charge, teachers pushed through the crowd.
“Andras Cruz! Blaine Morris! Outside. Now!”
Sirenelle stood frozen for a second. Then she followed.
---
Outside, cold air hit her face. Andras was already being dragged toward the office by a staff member. Blaine shouted behind him, trying to play victim.
Sirenelle pulled her jacket closer. Her hands were shaking. Not from fear. But from how alive she felt.
She turned away.
---
Thirty minutes later, the principal’s office was silent. Blaine sat with an ice pack. Andras with a busted lip. Both waiting.
The principal walked in, angry.
“You two are suspended for three days.”
Andras nodded once. Blaine groaned, still trying to act innocent.
“You attacked me first,” Blaine said, pointing at Andras.
“No,” Andras replied calmly. “You touched her.”
The principal frowned. “Her? Sirenelle?”
Andras didn’t say more. He didn’t need to.
---
Outside the office, Sirenelle leaned against the wall. Waiting.
When Andras came out, she didn’t speak.
She walked beside him. They moved past the music building, into the garden behind school. Quiet. Dark.
“Why did you do that?” she finally asked.
He wiped blood from his lip. “Because you looked uncomfortable.”
“I could’ve handled it.”
“I know. But I didn’t want you to.”
She didn’t reply. Just looked at him, then down.
“Three days,” he said. “No school.”
“You gonna think about me the whole time?”
“I always do.”
Her face didn’t change. But her eyes? They softened.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll walk you to the gate.”
He smiled. “You sure you’re not the one obsessed now?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t push it.”
But her fingers brushed his for half a second.
And he felt it.
---
That night, Sirenelle lay on her bed, phone in hand.
Andras: Thanks for waiting.
She typed. Paused. Deleted.
Then finally sent:
Sirenelle: I didn’t wait for you.
Andras: Then why were you there?
She didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
Because sometimes silence screams louder.
And he knew.
She was falling. Slowly. Wickedly.
And she didn’t even want to stop.
---
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