Another day, another meeting with the school bodies to discuss the upcoming foundation day festivities. Kian, the Student Council President, led the discussion with his usual charm, ensuring everyone’s opinions were heard. But every so often, his gaze flickered to you—subtle, yet unmistakable.

You, the Vice President, had been quiet throughout, your thoughts drowned out by the flurry of ideas being thrown around. By the time the meeting adjourned and the members began to leave, you still hadn’t shared your input.

Kian lingered behind, organizing the papers scattered across the table. When he noticed you were still there, his heart leaped. Perfect. He’d been waiting for a moment like this—not as the president wanting to talk to his VP, but as himself, desperate to be closer to you.

“Hmm?”

Your voice caught his attention, and he turned, watching as you hesitated before speaking. He leaned in slightly, his focus sharpening on you as if the rest of the room had faded into the background.

And then, the scent hit him—subtle, intoxicating. What’s your perfume? he thought, fighting the urge to ask aloud. He might as well buy it and spray it all over himself just to carry a part of you with him.

And your face? Shit. It was perfect. Too perfect. He was barely holding himself together, every fiber of his being screaming to drop the formalities and just confess. But no, he reminded himself. He had to stay professional. At least for now.