Chapter Three – Fire on My Skin

The rain had not stopped. It came in sheets the next morning, rattling against the classroom windows as if the world outside was demanding to be heard. Navya sat in her usual seat at the front, books neatly stacked, pen poised as the economics professor droned about market structures. But her mind wasn’t on curves and graphs. It was replaying every second from the night before.

The way Aarav had leaned back, so sure of himself. The way his eyes had caught the dim café lights and turned them into something sharp, dangerous. The way her own heart had betrayed her, racing not with fear, but with a thrill she couldn’t name.

She chewed on the end of her pen, a nervous habit she thought she’d broken years ago. Why did I go? she asked herself for the hundredth time. Why didn’t I say no?

But the answer was simple and cruel: because part of her had wanted to.

“Navya?” The professor’s voice cracked like a whip. Her head jerked up, heart lurching. He was staring at her, chalk paused mid-equation on the board. “Would you care to explain this diagram?”

She swallowed, blinking rapidly at the board as her classmates turned, smirks on their faces. Heat crept up her neck. Normally, she knew the answers before the questions were finished. Normally, she was composed. But today, her mind was fog.

“I—” she stammered, but before she could recover, a low chuckle drifted from the back of the room.

Her eyes flicked instinctively to him.

Aarav.

Slouched in his chair as if the rules of the world didn’t apply to him. His black hoodie shadowed half his face, but the smirk was visible — amused, knowing, cruel. He hadn’t even bothered to bring a notebook. And yet, somehow, his presence swallowed the room whole.

“Focus, Miss Sharma,” the professor snapped, irritation cutting deep. “If you want to daydream, do it after class.”

Laughter rippled across the room. Navya forced her eyes back to the board, scraped together enough logic to mumble an answer, and prayed for the ground to open up beneath her.

When the bell finally rang, she bolted, clutching her books like armor. She nearly made it out of the corridor before a hand snagged her wrist.

“You really do space out when you’re thinking about me,” Aarav drawled, stepping into her path.

Her skin burned where he touched her. She yanked her hand free, glaring. “You think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

He leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “Last night was about me. And you.”

Her chest tightened. She hated how easily his words cut through her defenses. She hated more that some traitorous part of her liked it.

“I’m not like your other…girls,” she whispered.

“You’re right,” he said softly, eyes darkening. “You’re worse. Because you’re the one I can’t stop thinking about.”

The words landed like a spark on dry leaves. She turned quickly, pushing past him, her pulse a wild drumbeat in her ears.

---

Later That Day

Navya sat in the library, trying to bury herself in notes. The quiet should have soothed her, but every page blurred with the same face — his face. She hated how he slipped under her skin like ink in water, spreading until he was everywhere.

Her phone buzzed. An unknown number.

Midnight. Same place.

Her throat tightened. She should block him. Delete the message. Pretend none of this had ever happened. But her fingers hovered, trembling.

Instead of deleting, she typed: I can’t.

Seconds later, another reply: You will.

Her heart stuttered. She shoved the phone into her bag and pressed her palms into her temples, as if she could push him out of her head.

But deep down, she already knew she’d go.

---

Midnight Again

The café was louder this time, crowded with students escaping the rain. Aarav sat in the same corner, smoke curling around him like a crown. He didn’t look up when she walked in; he didn’t need to. He knew she’d come.

“You’re late,” he said as she slid into the seat opposite.

“I wasn’t coming at all,” she shot back.

His lips curved into that infuriating smirk. “And yet you’re here. You can lie to yourself, princess, but don’t lie to me.”

The nickname sent a shiver through her, equal parts irritation and strange delight. She folded her arms. “Why me? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he said, eyes burning into hers. “You’re the kind of girl who wants control. Good grades, good reputation, good family. But under all that, you’re dying to burn. And you don’t even realize it.”

Her breath caught. He couldn’t know that. He shouldn’t know that. And yet, the way he said it, like he could see straight into her soul, left her shaking.

“You think you understand me?” she whispered.

“I don’t think,” he said. “I do.”

They stared at each other, the noise of the café fading until there was only the thrum of tension between them. Navya’s chest rose and fell too quickly. Aarav leaned across the table, lowering his voice to a velvet rasp.

“Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t, princess… you’ll find out exactly how dangerous wanting me can be.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She should say it. Stop. She should end this before it became something she couldn’t undo.

But she didn’t.

---

The Walk Home

The rain had slowed to a drizzle. They walked side by side down the deserted street, neon lights reflecting off puddles. His hand brushed hers once, twice, before finally catching it. She should have pulled away. She didn’t.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“It’s cold,” she lied.

“No,” he said, tugging her closer. “It’s me.”

Her breath hitched as he stopped under the awning of a closed shop, his body angled toward hers. The night hummed around them, heavy with unspoken things.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said, lowering his head until his lips hovered a breath from hers. “Bad ideas are the only ones worth having.”

Her heart thundered. She closed her eyes.

And then his mouth was on hers.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was heat and fire and storm, rough and consuming, like he was claiming her and daring her to resist. She clutched his jacket, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. The world dissolved until there was nothing but the taste of smoke and rain and him.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breath ragged.

“You’ll ruin me,” she whispered, dazed.

His eyes burned into hers. “No, princess. You’ll ruin me.”

---

Back at Home

Navya crept into her room past midnight, soaked and trembling. She pressed her fingers to her lips, still tingling from his kiss. Guilt gnawed at her — guilt for wanting him, for letting him past every line she’d drawn. But beneath the guilt was something stronger, something terrifying: desire.

She lay awake long into the night, staring at the ceiling, his words echoing in her skull.

You’ll ruin me.

Maybe she already had.

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