Lila didn't expect to see River again so soon, especially not in detention.
She'd barely made it through the morning when she got called out for "disrespectful tone" during a dull math class. One sarcastic comment — something about x never being worth solving for — and suddenly, she was stuck in after-school detention for the first time in her life.
The room was half-empty when she walked in, the clock ticking too loudly above the blackboard. And there he was — sprawled in the back, feet on the desk, sketching in the corner of his notebook. River didn't look up when she sat down two rows away, but she could feel his presence like heat on her skin.
Ms. Carrow, the detention monitor, barely glanced up from her romance novel. "No phones. No talking. No sleeping."
Time dragged like molasses. Lila tried reading, but the words blurred on the page. After twenty minutes, a paper airplane landed on her desk. She looked up in surprise. River's eyes were already on her, half-lidded and amused.
She unfolded the paper. Inside was a messy scrawl:
You always this much fun in math class, or was I just lucky?
Lila bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. She turned the paper over and wrote:
Only on days ending in hell.
She flicked it back, watching it land perfectly. He opened it, read, and this time, smirked. It was dangerous how good that smirk looked on him — like sin disguised as a secret.
He scribbled something else, but before he could send it back, Ms. Carrow stood. "Bathroom. Don't burn the place down."
The second she left, River stood and walked toward Lila's desk like it was the most natural thing in the world. He pulled the chair out beside her and leaned in, elbows on the table, his face inches from hers.
"You're not like the others," he said, voice low.
She raised a brow. "Is that your line?"
"No," he said, staring at her mouth for a second too long. "It's just the first thing I noticed."
Lila swallowed. He was close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath, to smell the faint trace of peppermint and smoke again. Her pulse flickered against her throat.
"You flirt with every girl in detention?" she asked.
"I don't flirt," he said. "I observe. And you're... interesting."
Something in his voice made her skin flush, made her feel like she was being peeled open gently, one layer at a time.
"And what have you observed?" she asked.
His eyes lingered on her lips again before meeting her gaze. "That you're quiet because you're angry. That you don't trust people. And that part of you wants to know what I taste like."
Lila blinked, heart slamming. "You're full of yourself."
River leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. "Maybe. But am I wrong?"
The door creaked — Ms. Carrow returning.
River stood, slow and smooth, like a cat who'd already gotten the cream. He walked back to his seat without looking back.
Lila sat still, hands tight in her lap, a storm rising in her chest she couldn't quite name.
The bell rang ten minutes later. As she gathered her things, a folded piece of notebook paper slid into her palm — River passed her without a word, disappearing down the hallway.
She opened it once she was alone.
If you want to know what I taste like… meet me under the cherry lights. 10 PM. Bring your curiosity.
Lila stared at the note, her heart a wildfire.
For the first time in weeks, she smiled.
And for the first time in months… she felt alive.