The morning after patrol had been an exhausting battle of avoidance for Lilith Nightingale. She had buried herself in her studies, thrown herself into assignments, and gone out of her way to keep her mind occupied. But no matter what she did, one thing remained the same.

Elias Thorne was in her head.

And that was unacceptable.

She had barely made it through her morning classes without replaying last night's events on a loop. Every time she let her mind wander, she was back in that broom cupboard—his breath on her skin, his hand on her waist, his teasing voice taunting her. He had been too close, too confident, too him.

And the worst part?

She hadn't hated it.

In fact, she had felt something dangerously close to enjoying it. The warmth of his body pressed against hers had sent an unexpected shiver down her spine, one that she hadn't been able to shake off. His scent—something clean and spiced, like cinnamon and cedar—still lingered in her mind, invading her thoughts at the most inconvenient moments. And worse, the way he had looked at her in the dim light, his hazel eyes flickering with something unreadable, had left her breathless in a way she couldn't explain.

She had told herself it was just the adrenaline. The tension of nearly being caught. The sheer absurdity of the situation. But deep down, she knew better.

Because the truth was, she could still feel the ghost of his hand on her waist, the warmth of his breath against her cheek, the way her own heart had betrayed her by hammering far too hard in her chest.

And no matter how much she tried to forget, the memory refused to fade.

By the time free period arrived, she had resigned herself to a new mission: erase the entire memory from her brain.

Victoria Newton, however, had other ideas.

"Okay," Victoria announced, plopping down beside her at their usual spot in the library, "spill."

Lilith looked up from her textbook, feigning confusion. "Spill what?"

Victoria shot her a knowing look, crossing her arms. "Oh, don't even try it. You've been acting weird all day."

Lilith frowned. "I always act like this."

"No, this is different. This is extra broody." Victoria leaned in, lowering her voice. "Something happened during patrol last night, didn't it?"

Lilith sighed. She had never been able to hide anything from Victoria, no matter how much she tried.

"Maybe," she muttered, twirling her quill between her fingers.

Victoria grinned. "I knew it. Was it scandalous?"

Lilith rolled her eyes. "It was not scandalous."

"Oh, Merlin, you hesitated," Victoria gasped, leaning forward. "It was scandalous."

Lilith groaned, rubbing her temples. "If I tell you, will you stop badgering me?"

Victoria beamed. "Absolutely not."

Lilith sighed but relented, recounting the events of the night before in painstaking detail—how Elias had grabbed her wrist so suddenly that she barely had time to react, how the firm grip of his fingers had sent an unexpected jolt through her skin. The urgency in the way he had shoved them into the broom cupboard, his chest heaving slightly against hers as the door clicked shut. The absolute lack of space—how she had been pressed against the shelves, the sharp ends of broom bristles poking into her back, and worse, how Elias had nowhere to go but closer.

She described how the heat from his body had seeped through the layers of her robes, how his breath had been warm against her temple, sending tingles down her spine. How the scent of him—fresh, spiced, distinctly him—had wrapped around her senses, making it impossible to think. How, in the unbearable silence that had followed, she had been hyperaware of every inch of space between them, which had been non-existent.

And then, the worst part. The way his hand had landed instinctively on her waist to steady her, how his thumb had brushed against her through the fabric in an absentminded motion. How she had felt that tiny gesture all the way down to her bones. How, when Filch's footsteps faded, neither of them had moved immediately.

"He just... stood there," Lilith muttered, more to herself than Victoria, gripping the edge of the table. "Like he forgot we were supposed to leave. And—I don't know why I didn't push him away. I should have. I wanted to. But I didn't."

By the time she finished, Victoria was practically vibrating with excitement, her dark eyes wide with barely contained glee.

"You're kidding," she whispered, eyes wide. "You and Elias Thorne? In a broom cupboard? With tension?"

Lilith groaned. "Stop making it sound worse than it was."

Victoria smirked. "Oh, I'm not making it sound worse. That's all you."

Lilith threw her hands up. "It was circumstantial! It meant nothing."

Victoria hummed. "You sure about that?"

Lilith hesitated. No, she wasn't sure at all.

Victoria grinned. "You like him."

Lilith choked on air. "Excuse me?"

"You like him," Victoria repeated, enjoying this far too much. "Look at you! You're blushing!"

"I am not."

Victoria arched a brow. "Lilith, you ran away from the Great Hall this morning when he walked in. If that's not guilty attraction, I don't know what is."

Lilith clenched her jaw, glaring at her. "I hate you."

Victoria laughed, reaching for Lilith's hands. "Look, I know you don't want to admit it, but I think he gets to you. And I think you get to him too."

Lilith exhaled, looking away. "It's just—he's so insufferable."

Victoria tilted her head. "And yet, you're thinking about him."

Lilith sighed again, slumping into her seat. "This is a nightmare."

Victoria gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "Or maybe, it's something worth exploring."

Lilith didn't respond. But for the first time, she considered the possibility that Victoria might be right.

And that scared her more than anything. Because for so long, she had convinced herself that feelings—real, genuine, unfiltered emotions—were dangerous. They made people reckless. They made them vulnerable. And Lilith had never allowed herself the luxury of vulnerability.

But now, here she was, sitting in the library with her best friend, heart pounding over a boy who was supposed to be nothing more than an irritation. It was foreign. Unsettling. The idea that Elias Thorne—loud, smug, infuriating Elias—had somehow slipped past her walls without her permission.

What terrified her most was that she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to shove him back out.

She inhaled slowly, staring down at the table as Victoria's words settled into her mind like seeds taking root. What if she wasn't just overthinking this? What if her reactions to him weren't just a fluke? What if she actually liked him?

The thought sent another rush of heat to her cheeks, and she quickly shook her head as if to physically rid herself of the notion. No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be.

But as Victoria smirked knowingly beside her, squeezing her hand in quiet encouragement, Lilith realized that denying it was becoming harder by the second.