Without pulling her damp hair out of Brandon's jacket, Stella snuggled a little deeper into it. She had dressed quickly after a short shower, instantly regretting the skirt and thin blouse she'd put on. While it wasn't exactly freezing, autumn had already slipped in through the door, sending its cool breezes throughout the town. At least, with Brandon's jacket on, she hoped to feel a bit warmer; unlike her own clothes, the jacket was definitely the right call. The game being held inside the sports hall would have been more convenient, but the team seemed to be made of stone and earth—they showed not the slightest hint of cold. Some of the players had even removed their shirts. One of those shirtless players particularly caught Stella's eye, and she tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach. It wasn't her first time seeing Brandon half-naked, but each time seemed to stir something new within her.
Swallowing hard, she directed her gaze to Brandon, who was barking orders while dribbling the ball towards the hoop with quick, agile moves, never allowing anyone to intercept him. She swallowed again, realizing just how easily she could watch the movement of his muscles amidst all that definition. She hadn't learned Brandon was a fighter directly from him; rather, she'd picked it up from whispered conversations overheard in the cafeteria.
Now, as Stella observed Brandon's physique, she noticed the distinction between a gym-built body and that of a fighter. The team was already full of fit, muscular guys due to the sport they played, but Brandon's difference was apparent in his bruises and the sheer bulk of his muscles. Pulling her legs up, she wrapped herself tightly in his jacket and discreetly adjusted her skirt, making sure to avoid any unintended exposure.
"Here you go, princess."
As Stella lifted her head, she gratefully accepted the coffee handed to her, glad for the slight distraction from her thoughts about Brandon's physique. Aisha smirked as she eyed Stella's flushed cheeks, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before settling beside her with her own coffee. "Am I interrupting something?"
Though Stella glared at her, she had grown so fond of Aisha, so comfortable around her, that she knew her friend wouldn't be offended by her reaction. Aisha had stood guard for her while she showered and dressed, helping her dodge yet another of the traps lately being laid against her. Taking a sip of her coffee, Stella's gaze, despite her efforts, drifted back to Brandon. She couldn't deny how quickly she found him, even among the scattering of constantly moving guys around him.
"Go and pounce on your boyfriend. Watching him from a distance like this, you're driving him crazy. Otherwise, he might end up throwing Timmy into the hoop instead of the ball, just from looking at you."
With a giggle, Aisha nudged Stella's shoulder lightly. Stella, barely managing to sip her coffee, shot her a glare. What was she even doing? This wasn't something she did to keep up appearances—it was far from anything she was consciously aware of doing! How was she supposed to explain what she was doing to her own heart? Perhaps her heart was already aware of it. Was it her brain, then, or her sense of reason that needed convincing? Turning to Aisha, she knitted her brows in a way that conveyed her tension. Aisha, apparently getting the message, grew serious and leaned in closer, sensing this was something that shouldn't be overheard.
"How do we look… from the outside?"
When Aisha looked at her, momentarily confused, Stella licked her lips and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She couldn't explain why she was so tense, but seeing Aisha's brows furrow in response to her own tension didn't help. Glancing around to ensure no one else could hear, Aisha began speaking in a low voice, realizing she had no clear sense of what she should say or the weight her words might carry.
"What do you want to hear?"
"I want to know what you see."
Letting out a troubled breath, Aisha shifted her gaze to the court, searching for Brandon. When her eyes found him, she turned back to Stella, a veil lifting from her words. "Honestly, I see an innocence—an affection from Brandon that's almost unexpectedly innocent." Stella flinched, glancing over at Brandon, and their eyes met briefly. It was a short moment, really; as soon as he looked at her, he grabbed the ball coming his way and turned back to the hoop. Stella turned back to Aisha, nodding for her to continue.
"I mean, you know Brandon… he's tough, cold, and rough. He's not pretending; life didn't teach him to be any other way. His mother passed away when he was really young, so he grew up with little affection and attention. The financial struggles didn't help either."
Stella knew she should stop Aisha and lie, saying she was already aware of all this, but the hunger to learn more kept her silent, listening. Aisha continued without questioning her silence, not feeling the need to say, "You know this already." Nabu had spoken to Aisha about the relationship, though both were admittedly surprised by it. Brandon had begun fighting at sixteen, and as his mentor, Nabu had hardly left his side. Since Nabu was Aisha's boyfriend, she had witnessed every moment Brandon was both trained and transformed into a real fighter. Their friendship was strong, yet Brandon's friendship was what one might expect from someone with such a cold personality. Imagining him in a relationship, especially with someone like Stella, seemed absurd to Aisha, though she found it harder to deny now that she'd met Stella. Only someone as pure and, unfortunately, as innocent as Stella could ever touch Brandon's heart. Unfortunately, because Aisha knew Stella would end up getting hurt.
"Someone like you… Don't take this the wrong way, but if Brandon were to have a girlfriend someday, I'd have thought she'd be as dark as he is. I never would have imagined he'd end up with someone as radiant as you."
Of course, Stella didn't see this as a compliment; being caught up in a frustrating cliché was annoying enough. But once she had asked the question, she knew she'd inevitably get answers she wouldn't like hearing. She tightened her trembling fingers around the coffee mug, swallowing, but the warmth she had hoped it would provide was hardly helping. And it wasn't because of her skirt and thin blouse, but rather the things she was about to hear.
"What are you saying…" Layla noticed her trembling, leaning a bit closer to Stella and placing her hand on her nervously shaking leg. "Stella, relax. You both look good together; you're good for him."
Stella glanced at Layla in surprise and was met with a smile. "Before you, Brandon was all about discipline. He'd fight, he'd compete, he'd live his life like a robot. If you ask what's changed now... Stella, I've never seen him smile before."
They both flinched as the whistle blew, turning their eyes to the field. They saw Brandon's teammates gathering around him, nodding as they listened intently to his words, before returning to one another. Aisha took a deep breath, sipping her coffee and deciding to continue while looking at the field. She wasn't sure if it was easier for herself or for Stella that way.
"We also notice a strange tension between you two. I mean, my boyfriend and I. But I think it's just because we know Brandon so well – I don't think anyone else would notice it."
"Who's your boyfriend?"
Layla paused, giving Stella a quick look, pondering. She figured that if Stella hadn't heard of Nabu, it was probably because of how little Brandon spoke, but Nabu was Brandon's best, closest friend. How could he have never mentioned him? Realizing she might have slipped up, Stella bit her lip, maybe for the first time, making Aisha look at her with suspicion, narrowing her eyes as if trying to read her mind.
"Nabu. He's not from school, he's from the club."
Stella didn't have to strain her brain; as soon as the face flashed in her mind, she nodded, looking at the cup in her hands. It was beginning to warm her, but the shiver from her slip-up seemed to wrap around her entirely. When the whistle blew again, the girls turned their attention to the game in silence, neither fully understanding the reason behind it. Stella chose to stay quiet, feeling as if she'd messed up big time, and Layla decided to give her some time, thinking she had unsettled her.
"Finally! I've been looking for you everywhere." Flora dropped her bag casually and sat down beside Stella, wrapping her arms around her and giving her a warm smile. Though Stella couldn't miss how Flora acted as if Aisha wasn't there, she just smiled back without commenting. After all, she didn't feel close enough to either girl yet to say anything. People had told her so often that she was pure, innocent, and even a bit naïve that for a moment, Stella really did wonder if the whole school had been raised in some underworld. But from what she could see, Flora was even more innocent and pure than herself. Stella was tough, the type who would rather die than swallow her pride. The type who had faced death countless times to fend for herself. Flora, on the other hand, seemed softer, gentler. The way she held onto Helia told her a lot; it was like she had found a safe haven, as if she were hiding there. Do I look like that, too?
"Ryan…" Stella shook her head, smiling to ease her, then shrugged her shoulders. "I bolted before he could get close. He must've lost my trail since he never came around."
"He's brave to act that way, even knowing about Brandon."
Not wanting to engage in the same tiresome, stifling conversation, Stella simply nodded, as if to say, "I don't know." Ryan knew about Brandon yet still acted like a creep. But it wasn't just her that he treated that way! Stella knew he was that way with all the girls in the class, and this wasn't something she would run to tell Brandon about – it was something she'd rather tell her mother. If it were just about saving herself, she could bring Brandon into it, but then what? What about the girls who would come to this school afterward? What if, one day, he went beyond touching and flirting and wanted more? What if he became even bolder, more reckless? No, this was definitely something she would bring up to her mom once she got home.
"But don't worry, now that Madam's back, he won't be able to act too bold since we'll be under constant supervision."
"So Madam finally returned. Congratulations."
When Flora shot Aisha a cutting look, Stella shivered, beginning to observe the two girls more closely. An atmosphere as heavy and cold as an iceberg passed between them, and Stella sensed pure, untainted hostility.
"It's none of your business."
Layla shrugged, downing her coffee. Remembering her own coffee, Stella decided to drink slowly, unable to stomach it all at once like Aisha. Flora reached into her bag, taking a sip from her thermos, most likely containing tea from the dangling tea bag. She then turned her gaze to the field, trying to find her boyfriend. Helia, as if waiting for this, blew her a kiss and grinned, receiving a playful whistle from his friend. Flora couldn't help smiling, her cheeks turning red as she lowered her head to hide her blush, fiddling with her thermos.
"How many years has it been, and you're still playing the part of the pure, lovestruck girl. Ballet does this to you – you think you're living in some fantasy world. That's why you're so defenseless against the grime of the real world."
Turning in surprise and hurt, Stella faced Aisha, only to realize that her glare was directed squarely at Flora, burning with barely concealed anger. She had spoken in general terms, but Flora was clearly her sole target. Stella opened her mouth to say something, but Flora beat her to it, hissing back at Layla through gritted teeth.
"I'd rather play Pollyanna than accept the filth that people like you bring to the real world."
In response, Stella felt as though her tongue was trying to retreat back into her throat. She turned her head back and forth, watching the girls, trying to follow and make sense of the exchange between them. Was it about ballet and something chaos? Were arguments about things like this actually happening in the real world now? She still couldn't get used to the fact that each day she spent at this school was a cursed day. She wanted to say something to calm the girls down, to intervene and settle things, but she had no idea what to say or if she even had the right to speak. She couldn't help but think that the issue was somewhat personal. It seemed like they were both pushing each other's buttons, struggling intensely. Clearing her throat, Stella tried to break the tension, but it was futile. The girls were lost in their own world, exchanging barbs without a pause.
"Yes, yes, of course, innocent and pure. The kind that everyone admires—yes, that's exactly you. We're the freaks, right? Freaks because why? Because we don't wear pink? Did we lose because our room is covered with posters? What exactly makes us the freaks that makes you the… angels, or whatever?"
Stella couldn't help but take it personally now. Turning her gaze towards Aisha, she spoke, her voice tinged with frustration and hurt, and it was clear from the looks on the girls' faces that they were taken aback. Only now did they realize that they weren't arguing in front of someone accustomed to their constant bickering and fighting.
"Do you really hate ballet that much?"
Actually, she was just guessing the issue might be about ballet; she had no idea what to make of the talk about purity, innocence, and other such themes. Because she didn't know, she chose to continue along the lines she was familiar with, focusing on ballet—a topic she had a bit of a claim to.
"What? No. I don't hate it."
"Don't you? You loathe every move, every word we say! Do you remember the last time you saw us and didn't wrinkle your nose? Because I don't." Aisha leaned over Stella to glare at Flora, Flora leaned back with equal anger and intensity.
"My hatred is too valuable to be wasted on you. If such hatred were real, you'd be hiding behind your Madam, crying. After all, it's a feeling your pure world isn't used to—dark and filthy, right?"
When Flora rose to her feet and started speaking slowly, wagging a finger, Aisha jumped up to stand right in front of her. Stella, caught in the sudden explosion between them, was rooted to her spot, unsure how to react. She realized now that the issue didn't involve her and that this hostility was personal. But there was a reality she couldn't ignore: these girls were bickering over something that concerned her, too. And they were doing it as if she wasn't even there, commanding all the attention. She was debating whether to stand up or not, when she was startled by Helia's voice.
"Girls, just for once, let the spotlight shine on someone else. The limelight's all yours, as usual."
It could have been ironic, since in this school, the spotlight generally fell on the athletes, but his worried glances at Flora made it clear that he wanted to defuse the situation. When Aisha grabbed Flora's wrist in warning, Flora grimaced, looking at her with shock and fury. Sensing the time had come, Stella pushed them both back at the stomach, stood up, and sighed in frustration, muttering, "It's a shame to see my two new friends as enemies. Let's go talk somewhere quieter."
With a forced smile, Flora glared at Aisha, hissing as she rubbed her reddened wrist. As Helia rushed toward his girlfriend, running along the fence-lined walls of the field, Stella was about to try to calm them down again when Aisha looked at her, her gaze slightly softened, but her tone still sharp.
"I expect you'll come with Brandon tonight; then we'll talk. I don't know of any table in this universe pure enough for me to sit with her."
For heaven's sake, how overblown was this idea of purity?
"It's not about purity—it's that no seat can withstand your filth," Flora shot back, her voice dripping with scorn. When Stella looked at her, stunned, she noticed the hatred and vulnerability flashing in Aisha's eyes, and paused. Flora's comment had cut deep, but the last thing she expected was to see Aisha hurt. Without a word, Aisha grabbed her bag, gave Stella a nod, and left, while Flora, still breathing heavily, watched her go, her fists clenched, her flushed eyes seething with anger.
"Flora? What's this hatred?"
Instantly regretting her words, Flora bit her lip, struggling to hold back the tears brimming in her eyes as Stella turned towards her. Helia arrived just in time, wrapping his arms around Flora, pressing her tightly to his chest, and burying her face into his neck. Still trying to process what had just happened, Stella turned to look in the direction Aisha had left, only to be startled once again by Brandon's chest for the second time that day. When he wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned in to whisper, Stella found herself frozen in place, unable to move.
"They used to be really close. College rivalry and a bit of ambition got between them. I'm sorry you got caught in the middle."
Feeling her tension ease, Stella looked up at Brandon, who was slightly out of breath and still shirtless. Wasn't he cold? His hair was tousled, and his eyes were shining with a curiosity and concern she didn't quite understand. As Brandon studied her closely, Stella instinctively looked around, feeling the need to hide her hands somewhere, discomforted by their exposure, even if for just a moment. Brandon seemed to notice and, without hesitation, took her hand and brought it to his lips. It was a gentle kiss, but it relaxed her so much that she looked at him with gratitude and appreciation.
"Where are we going tonight?" she asked. Brandon, his brows furrowed, looked at her as if he didn't quite understand, then cast a glance in the direction Aisha had gone, muttering a curse under his breath, almost as if she were still there. Biting her cheek, Stella hesitated, realizing she might've made a misstep, but she tried to appear composed when Brandon turned back to her. Without loosening his grip on Flora, Helia informed them they'd be leaving soon and started to walk away, but Brandon, unfazed, gave Stella a slight nod and pulled her waist a bit closer, murmuring softly.
"You're not going anywhere. There's a fight tonight; she must have thought I'd be taking you."
"And why wouldn't you take me?"
Brandon exhaled with a weary sigh, looking at Stella with clear annoyance. He didn't want to have this conversation—just as he hadn't wanted to discuss anything that night at the club on Friday, yet Stella had put him in his place quite well. Now, feeling that yet another unwanted conversation was coming, he felt a growing sense of unease. Stella noticed, placing her hand on Brandon's shoulder and drawing closer, doing her best to avoid looking too stiff. Her movement made Brandon sigh deeply and tense, which Stella assumed was likely due to the cold air and Brandon's choice to walk around half-dressed. She looked at him with expectation.
"How many times do I need to tell you, I don't want you there?"
"But Aisha's there, isn't she? That must mean it's fine for girls to be there."
As Brandon inwardly calculated how many more times he'd curse Nabu and his precious girlfriend, Stella, wanting his attention back on her, squeezed his shoulder. He tensed up again, and Stella paused. Could it be a reaction to her touch? Impossible, right?
"Do you know how many bodies Nabu left behind just to ensure she could sit there safely? Are you saying you want my hands to get dirty too?"
Of course, she didn't want that. But she wanted to watch Brandon. As terrifying as the sight had been that day, Stella had also been treated to quite the visual spectacle while watching him. Yes, it was a guilty pleasure—seeing Brandon's muscles tighten, droplets of sweat glistening as they rolled down his skin. The thrill she'd felt with every blow he struck, but the gentleness and care of that same fist when it wrapped around her waist. The fire in his eyes softened, tender when he turned to her; that was Stella's guilty pleasure. She swallowed, leaning against Brandon and looking at him imploringly. It was a bold move, bolder than she'd have expected of herself, one that left Brandon momentarily stunned and again, she'd caught that look—a look that, for some reason, always made him do whatever she asked.
"Isn't there another way? I want to come along too."
But the gravity of the situation quickly dispelled his hesitation. "No. You're not coming."
Frowning, Stella looked at him angrily. Brandon reached out, tucking the strand of hair behind her ear, letting it fall gracefully over her beautiful face. He didn't enjoy upsetting her, but her safety came first.
"It's more important to me that I know you're safe at home."
"What if I sneak out? Like the other day. What if I come alone, without telling you?" Brandon glared at her with that typical look of exasperation she was all too familiar with. Brandon had grown so used to giving her that look that he was surprised to find he did it almost unconsciously now.
"You're not going to do that. Don't make me put guards around your house, Stella."
"Are you in the mafia or something?"
She hadn't meant it seriously, oblivious to how much tension and discomfort her words would bring him. Brandon pulled her closer, pressing his lips firmly to her forehead, and held her there for a moment. As usual, they had eyes on them, but this time, the prying eyes irritated Brandon to the point he grabbed Stella's bag, took her hand, and started pulling her to a secluded corner. The fact that Brandon hadn't answered any of her questions about where they were going was aggravating, yet she said nothing. When they finally stopped beneath a tree hidden from view, Stella leaned back against it, staring daggers at Brandon, who matched her glare.
"What's going on?"
"You can't talk like that out in the open." Stella, not understanding what he was referring to, looked at him with suspicion and confusion. Brandon sighed, running his hands through his hair as he looked back at her. She was wearing a skirt again; he'd gotten used to Stella's style. And he didn't hide the fact that he liked it, but in a place crowded with people who irritated him, Stella's choice of outfit was a problem. After their last argument, Brandon had vowed not to say anything about her clothes; instead, he would deal with anyone who dared say something. He would deal with them just like he'd dealt with everyone on so called Stella's list.
"It was a joke." Hearing the hurt in her voice, Brandon took another frustrated breath, stepping toward her and resting his hands on either side of the tree, savoring the satisfaction of pinning her in place. With her lips pouting and sulking, trying to hide her sensitivity, she once again managed to steal his breath.
"I got that." He brought a hand to her chin, willing his brain not to overthink. His actions didn't need a reason right now; he was just doing what he wanted. Stella was aware that no one else was around, but she couldn't understand why Brandon was still acting as though they were a couple. A voice in her head whispered not to think, to just be in the moment. Yet, another part screamed that the chaos and pleasure all this brought were doing her the worst kind of harm in the long run. Stella silenced that voice. The weight of what she wanted to feel was heavier. She'd think about the consequences later.
"I'm doing all of this to keep you safe. If you go to the club, it's impossible that someone won't notice you. You attract too much attention."
"I could wear something that doesn't stand out." She knew she sounded childish but couldn't help it. Her wide eyes shone with both hope and expectation as she looked at Brandon.
"It's not your clothes that make you stand out, Stella. It's you."
She wasn't sure if that was a compliment, but her heart accepted it as one anyway. Stella moistened her lips, lowering her head. Brandon used his hand under her chin to make her look back up, and Stella felt butterflies fluttering inside her stomach. As Brandon's face drew closer, her mind focused on one thing. Were his lips as soft as they seemed? A warmth spread between her legs, and a shiver ran down her knees. Her heart was pounding in her throat, her brain seemingly switched off. When Brandon's nose brushed against hers, Stella knew she should stop this right there. Their agreement excluded kissing, and with no one around to witness, why was he drawing closer? And why, instead of pulling away, did she wish he'd move just a bit closer?
"Can you promise me you'll sit quietly at home?" Brandon's lips brushed her cheek, and Stella squeezed her legs together, cursing her teenage hormones. This closeness, this intimacy—it was new to her, so it was only natural she didn't understand her body's reactions. She couldn't tell when things had reached this point.
"Promise me, Stella." Brandon's breath scorched her skin as his other hand reached around her waist, pulling her body against his. The delicate, soft gasp that escaped her surprised Brandon, who tightened his grip, cradling her as if he possessed her. Stella took a shaky breath, nodding. Satisfied, Brandon planted a kiss on her jacket-covered shoulder, and Stella, hoping she wouldn't tremble, tried to speak.
"I promise." Brandon slowly pulled back, smiling at her with contentment. Stella, I've never seen him smile before. Aisha's words repeating themselves in her mind she looked at him and his smile that warmed her insides. The cold air was already starting to feel warm, thanks to the fire Stella had kindled within him. The chill even helped him keep control over certain parts of himself. As he surveyed the surroundings, Brandon made sure no one could see them, although he knew that wasn't the point. He'd come here for himself, to be with Stella without any watchful eyes around. Stella hadn't questioned him, which was his biggest stroke of luck, but he knew he shouldn't do this again. Their agreement served a purpose, and Stella was only here because of it.
"I'll take you home. Let me shower first. We'll meet at the cafeteria," he said.
Nodding, Stella watched as he took a final look at her, sighed, then turned and strode off toward the school with surprising speed. She un-crossed the fingers she'd hidden behind her back. Childish as it felt, she found comfort in the idea that crossed fingers rendered a promise void. Smiling, she made a mental note to dress more modestly tonight. She owed him at least that much.