: I'm scared to death to see you, but I still wanted it to be you.

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ziyanah's p.o.v:

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                             RESTING my hand on my palm, I couldn't help but admire the perfectly chiseled features of the man sitting next to me. His fingers glided effortlessly over the laptop keyboard, his jaw clenching and his eyes focused on the screen.

It had already been four days of adjusting to my "new daily routine," repeating the same monotonous tasks that felt like they had consumed the past three years of my life. I woke up early to present myself decently, carried my essentials- a notebook, pen, water bottle, wallet, phone, and earphones-and greeted my babies. The entire college seemed to stare at me like an alien as I attended classes, all the while regretting my decision to pursue Legal Science as my sixth subject.

Admittedly, the last four days have been making me feel all sorts of emotions all at once, the first being- regret, every time I see my friends leave for different places to roam around and enjoy while I'm stuck here with the epitome of 'don't-talk-to-me' man I have ever come across and second being of utmost pride because let's face it, no matter how useless you are in an extra study session you still feel a sense of pride and joy when you have successfully convinced your mind and others that well... you're working hard.

In reality, I spent an hour after class sitting in a dimly lit corner of the library, watching this sinful-looking man boss me around. He would throw random articles and taunting law quotes at me while looking as handsome as ever.

It's attractive. He's attractive.

I wouldn't be taking that away from him but the whole 'unapproachable and untouchable' aura just kills it for me.

It was unfair and annoying how effortlessly he could look good, while I woke up every morning, concealing my face and attempting to put on a presentable appearance. Did he have a skincare routine? Well, judging by his cluelessness when I mentioned "skin care" a couple of days ago, it seemed unlikely.

Then why did his skin look so flawless? Ugh!

Don't get me wrong I haven't necessarily developed any sort of feelings feelings for Mister 'don't-talk-to-me' in the past few days or something. Nope. None at all.  In fact, I think all my years of being a shallow superficial person have finally managed to maybe turn me into a mini sapiosexual, but nonetheless, I do notice and appreciate beauty when I see one.

"Focus, firefly."

There it was- the classic two-word dialogue from Kayzaad Alkazi, which he probably associated with my entire existence from the moment he laid eyes on me.

Rolling my eyes at his remark, I let out a small scoff. "I am, huh." I noticed his brows shoot up in surprise as he swiftly turned his head toward me. He rested his elbows on the table, his hands joining together, and locked his intense gaze with mine.

"Laws applicable?" he asked, his eyes challenging mine.

"Article 12, 21, and 32 of the Constitution of India," I replied, returning his stare.

"And what does Article 21 deal with?"

"The protection of rights and liberties."

"And Article 32?"

"It pertains to the enforcement of fundamental rights."

"Your references?"

"(1997) 10 SCC 549, 1967 AIR 1857, 1967 SCR (3) 377 an-"

"Do my questions scare you?"

"Absolutely not."

"What were you looking at?"

"You-" I quickly shut my mouth, realizing I had answered his unexpected out-of-syllabus rapid-fire question. Biting my tongue, my eyes shifted from the ground below before returning to meet his gaze.

This guy...

The corner of his mouth curled into a sly smirk as he muttered, "Exactly."

Biting my bottom lip, I took a sharp breath before adding, "I meant, you don't need to know." He chuckled.

"Sure."

Rolling my eyes, I looked back down at the study material in front of me when the sound of my vibrating phone caught my attention. Letting out a small sigh, I glanced at the contact name displayed on the screen.

"What's fuckin wrong with you, Ziya?"

" If you just wanna get laid -- "

" If you seriously just wanna fuck around, trust me, he's the last guy you'd want to be involved with."

"He's not someone you mess with. Ziya,"

Clenching my jaw, I simply slid my finger downwards, declining the call and setting my phone to silent mode. It had been four days since that incident in the parking lot, and I still couldn't shake his words from my mind.

Care or not. I don't receive any form of well-being wrapped up with insults my way.

He can find someone else for his friends to 'get laid' or 'fuck around' with.

A loud scoff escaped my lips at the thought of him, making me immediately shut up at the realization of my surrounding.

Grabbing a random paper I scribbled the word 'bitch' onto it. My mind mentally cursing my 'oh-so-long-time' crush. I smiled at the 5 letter word as I nibbled the back of my pen before adding a 'Ro-' before it.

Serves him right, I thought, punctuating the 'R' of 'Ro-bitch' with tiny thorns. Kinda sounds like 'rubbish'.

A soft giggle escaped my lips at how 'non-funny' I was.

Just kidding. I would rather die than admit it to myself. I'm fucking hilarious.

Glancing at my watch, I realized that it was nearly time for me to call it a day. Perfect. Holding the pen between my lips, I began collecting the scattered papers from my side of the table, meticulously arranging them in ascending order of their serial numbers. As I glanced at the man seated beside me, still engrossed in his typing.

He shifted his focus from the laptop screen to a sheet of paper in front of him, delving intently into its contents, when his left hand stretched out in front of me, slightly taking me aback.

"Pen," he uttered.

My eyes widened ever so slightly as I instinctively scanned the table, not particularly keen on offering him something that had been in contact with my saliva. Reluctantly, I removed the pen from my mouth.

His head snapped in my direction, and I immediately placed the ink-holding instrument in his hand.

A soft gasp escaped my lips, my eyes fixed on him as he effortlessly grasped the pen,

"Professor Deb has a history of preponing mood court dates, I suggest you be prepared with the areas you'd wanna cover so we could do a run-through."

I couldn't focus on the information he shared, my head nodding a quick 'yes' while my eyes just watched his every move as he casually wiped the pen against his pristine white shirt before commencing his scribbling on the paper. How was he so comfortable doing that?

Something about his action made an inexplicable warmth spread across my cheeks. Its origin, elusive, leaving me uncertain whether it stemmed from sheer embarrassment or something else...

Shaking my head at the bizarre thoughts I cleared my throat, before gently dragging my wooden chair closer to his, his eyes locked with mine for a milli second making me give him my instant bunny smile which he simply ignored.

oukrrr..

Placing my elbows on the table I cupped my face with my palms on both sides as I turned my head in his direction.

"I have a question," I blurt

"Spill,"

I straightened up immediately in response to his curt one-word reply, flashing him a quick grin. With a swift motion, I turned my body to face his side profile, taking a cross-legged position on the chair as if seated on the floor.

"Okay, so my frien--"

"Stop." His interruption cut me off as he finally averted his gaze from the paper, locking his eyes onto mine.

"Is it work-related?"

"No, but-"

"Then save it," he interjected, his tone laced with finality.

For a moment, I was taken aback by his utmost rudeness, but I chose to ignore it.

"Right," I conceded, biting my bottom lip for a brief moment before continuing.

"So, my friend... she's gotten herself into some trouble, you see." I didn't raise my eyes to meet his glaring gaze as the words slipped from my mouth. Instead, I kept my focus on my nails resting on my lap.

"There's this guy..." I could practically sense the subtle groan that was eager to escape his mouth, but I purposefully disregarded it.

Well, if he's going to make me stay late just to watch him work, the least he can do is listen to me in return... It may not sound fair, but whatever!

"Yeah! So... right. There's this guy that I-I mean m-my friend-had a crush on, you know. They used to talk about all sorts of things for years, shared pictures, and all that. She was okay with the whole arrangement because she knew they'd probably never meet. But then, about a year ago, they kind of lost touch. Not completely lost touch, but, you know, they stopped talking. And she was fine with it. But recently, she found out that-"

"That they go to the same college," he interrupted, completing my sentence. I looked at his absolutely bored and 'done with' expression as he scoffed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Oh no, oh no, I know that look by now.

It's the look he gives every time he's just gonna walk out on me for being silly or whatever. Too bad I'm in a mood to talk right now, and I just want to let this out.

"Listen I'm really not interes--"

"They just got into a fight like not exactly a fight fight but an argument and she kinda liked him but now she's also mad at him for being a bitch but like he has been doing stuff like texting, calling, and checking up on her ever since and she's trying hard to feel like a bitch for ghosting him so badly but she doesn't. To think of it. It's not even her fault he just straight-up semi slut shamed her for talking to someone he doesn't like! Can you believe it!?" I finished at the 'shush' sound that came from god knows where making me shut up for a second before I leaned in closer to his ears, but keeping a proper distance, away from his personal space as I whispered.

"So now he's trying to reach her but-"

Something about the way his eyes snapped in my direction made the words that were about to escape my mouth disappear as I couldn't help but be taken aback by the lightest shade of brown and golden that contrasted with those shades of grey. Something I had never seen before.

His eyes.

They were like the swirling grey of an impending storm, carrying an air of mystery and intrigue.

"Stop talking to the other guy then," was the only thing he said, like it was the most obvious thing to do in a situation like that. My eyes squinted.

"Why?" was all that escaped my mouth, slightly disappointed by his answer.

There was silence for a while before the corner of his lips turned into a bittersweet barely-there smirk.

"Maybe her boyfriend is right, maybe the guy she's with isn't the best. She should stay away."

There was a weird sense of finality in his voice a sound i don't think i liked as a vertical line formed in between my brows and before I know a single word escaped my mouth as if having a mind of its own.

"No."

He seemed to be taken aback by my answer as something in his eyes shifted, a glimmer, a little hurricane of warmth mixed with uneasiness within his gaze, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. I quickly shook my head before I could peer any deeper, my hands fidgeting with the papers in front of me.

"And he's not her boyfrie--,"

"I think you should go." My ears perked up at his words, "It's six already?" I looked at my watch which read 6:15.

Ou shoot! I quickly got up from the chair.

"Shit, I didn'-"

"-to your boyfriend. He's waiting."

I heard the buzz of my phone which I chose to ignore before randomly throwing my stuff inside my bag, I let out a sigh as I rolled my eyes, "For the last time Mr. Alkazi I don't have a boy--"

My words stopped the moment my gaze fixated upon the glass doors of a nearby library cabinet, directly across from where we were seated.

A soft, almost inaudible breath escaped my lips as I absorbed the reflection elegantly displayed on the polished surface. He stood there, leaning effortlessly against the library entrance, his one hand casually tucked into his pocket while the other held a phone pressed against his ear. Legs crossed, emanating an aura of self-assurance.

Inhaling a shaky breath, I couldn't help but tighten my jaw, mirroring the intensity of his supposed glare through the glass, before grabbing my bag and swinging it over my shoulder.

"See yaa!" I bid farewell smiling at my presumptuous partner, before turning around and coming face to face with an annoyingly familiar pretty face at the very entrance waiting to greet me with the straightest of faces.

With a deliberate choice to ignore him, I resolved to walk away from the entrance, my steps purposeful and determined. Yet, just as I began to put distance between us, a strong hand swiftly and firmly clasped my upper arm, halting my progress, and before I know, I find myself being collided with a hard and warm body, making my eyes immediately widen, and an electric current of awareness coursed through me.

I'd be lying to myself if I ever say that his touch shouldn't be bothering me. As much as his words might have just hurt me a tad bit, it still didn't change the fact that he has also been the same person I have had a history of being all head over heels about. The guy I had only ever dreamt to ever be close enough to.

As much as I should get a grip on myself, the sudden proximity between us sent my heart into a rapid rhythm, its beats echoing loudly in my ears as a rush of heat tingled across my skin, heightening my senses and intensifying the moment.

Get ahold of yourself, Zee!

I could practically hear my conscience scream, but hey! You can't blame my tiny heart to act in such a way to their crush's touch! Anyone would be this way, right?

Righttt?

His grip on my upper arm tightened and I could feel the controlled force of his fingers pressing into my skin, asserting his presence with an almost possessive touch. While, his other hand instinctively sought a connection, securing a firm yet gentle hold on my waist. A small, involuntary gasp escaped my lips, betraying the unexpected surge of sensation that coursed through me.

My senses heightened, acutely aware of the contrasting temperatures that danced across my body. His proximity radiated an intense warmth, his presence like a blazing fire, yet, as his fingertips delicately brushed against the small expanse of exposed skin between my crop top and high-waisted jeans, a contrasting shiver traveled down my spine. It was as if his touch carried a hint of coldness, a paradox that only served to heighten the electrifying tension between us.

It's funny how his body felt so warm but his fingers, cold.

So cold.

The contrast of his touch, firm yet tender, somehow seemingly calculative, like he knew exactly how his touch could bother me. Like he knew exactly how he could bother me. A wave of conflicting emotions surged through me.

"We need to talk," he demanded, his thumb drawing circles on my waist making, my body instinctively lean slightly into his. Oh how I wish I was good with showing control but, this was him we were talking about. This.  Was Rohaan Malik we were talking about. Well...

Guess I'm not as over him as I thought.

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- end of chapter / 08 -

You all hate Ziya yet?  Beee honesttt