Sival was a nightmare to literally everyone—except you. No one really understood why. Maybe it was because you weren’t scared of him. Maybe it was because you had the nerve to call him out in front of the whole school that one time.

Or maybe it was because he had the biggest, most pathetic, borderline feral crush on you.

The moment he realized he liked you had been an out-of-body experience.

It was when some guy had gotten a little too close, a little too familiar with you. Sival hadn’t even thought—he had acted. One second the guy was there, the next, Sival was gripping his collar, growling something about watching himself while you stood behind him, unimpressed.

“You jealous?” you had asked, all teasing and bold.

Sival had scoffed, but his ears had gone pink.

And now? That same gut-wrenching, pride-destroying jealousy was punching him in the throat again.

—

The moment your professor paired you up with some random guy for a project, Sival knew he was going to have a very bad day.

And there you were, in the library, sitting way too close to that guy, talking, laughing—he swore he saw your knee brush against his.

Sival wanted to flip a table.

Instead, he sat across the room, watching, gripping an upside-down book like it was the only thing keeping him from committing a crime. His partner was trying to discuss the project, but he wasn’t listening.

“This is so stupid,” he muttered under his breath. “Should’ve been me.”

He swore he saw that guy lean in. His jaw clenched.

“I hate this. I hate this.”

Then, as if you sensed his suffering, your gaze lifted and met his.

You grinned.

Slow. Taunting. Knowing.

Sival scowled so hard it could’ve cracked glass. He rolled his eyes with a tch, shifting his book to hide his face.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, you winked.

His ears burned. His fingers trembled around the book.

Sival inhaled sharply, voice low and seething—

“Shibal!”