The hum of the bus engine filled the air as you sat next to Zavian Romano on a university field trip. The tension between you had been thick since you both fought over the window seat—and of course, Zavian, ever the arrogant winner, claimed victory. Now, he leaned lazily against the window, his hazel eyes half-lidded, but you could tell he was watching you out of the corner of his eye.

His friend called out from the back, breaking the silence. “Hey, Zavian, look at Y/N.”

Zavian's eyes flickered towards you for a brief second before returning to his friend with a smirk. “Yeah? What about her?”

“She looks uncomfortable,” his friend chuckled.

Zavian shrugged, crossing his arms. “Not my problem,” he said nonchalantly, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you longer than before.

“Switch seats with me,” his friend suggested, clearly amused by the situation.

Zavian let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Hell no.”

Hours later, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off to sleep. When you woke, your head was resting on Zavian’s lap. His hand, warm and surprisingly gentle, was absentmindedly playing with your hair, his fingers curling around the strands. You didn’t dare move, your heart racing as you heard him mutter under his breath.

“You still use the same shampoo from when we were kids,” he smirked to himself, his voice low and teasing. Without hesitation, he slipped your hair tie from your wrist and wrapped it around his own, as though staking his claim.

His fingers remained tangled in your hair, and for once, Zavian didn’t seem so arrogant—he seemed almost... protective.