We hadn't even walked that far, but my chest felt heavier with every step. Like the weight of being near him again was pressing down, making it harder to think straight.
"Isaaq," I said, and I hated how unsure my voice sounded.
He glanced sideways. "Hmm?"
"Let's not go to the nurse."
He gave me that look. The one that made you feel like you just said something outrageously stupid.
"I'm not having any of that," he replied, already preparing to argue.
"No, really," I said quickly, "I have a first aid kit in my office. Let's go there instead."
He stopped walking. Dead in his tracks. Stared at me.
I braced for another 'hell no,' or maybe even a scoff. Couldn't read his expression—his eyes narrowed, like he was trying to figure out what game I was playing.
Then he sighed. "Fine. But I warn you, I know nothing about first aid."
Relief hit me like a breath I'd been holding too long. "That's okay," I muttered with the faintest of smiles.
We slipped into the student council meeting room and went straight to my office. I bent under my desk and pulled out the first aid box. It was huge.
"Holy shit," Isaaq said, eyes wide. "That's insanely huge."
"Thanks," I said, like it was a compliment. Maybe it was. Hell, I'll take anything from him at this point.
I laid the box on the desk and got to work—band-aids, cotton wool, antiseptic, the usual lineup. The sting burned when the reagent hit my skin. I flinched a little. Not because of the pain—just a reflex. I've felt worse.
Through all of it, I could feel Isaaq's eyes on me.
He leaned on the wall like he had all the time in the world, arms crossed, unreadable expression. But I could tell he was thinking. About what—I had no idea. And that scared me.
I wanted to ask.
I wanted to say something.
But I didn't want to ruin this... whatever this was.
Then—
"Hayden."
His voice called me back. I looked up.
He was staring at me.
"You're Hayden now, right?"
I nodded slowly.
He looked hesitant, unsure.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
The question caught me completely off guard.
My hand paused halfway through wrapping gauze. I looked at him, trying to figure out what angle he was coming from. But he wasn't smirking. He wasn't teasing.
He was serious.
He kept going, his voice quieter. "I know I said some shit back then, and honestly... it's been eating me the fuck up. Theo's been pestering me to tell him what happened and—"
"Did you?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His response was immediate. "Well of course I didn't. Why the hell would I rat you out?" He paused, biting the inside of his cheek. "Actually—" He hesitated again, like he was fighting himself. "A part of me wanted to... but I didn't. I couldn't. I…"
He started walking toward me.
Shit.
My heartbeat stuttered. Loud in my ears.
He kept coming.
Closer.
And closer.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe right. I wanted to reach out. I wanted to say something smooth or funny or clever—but nothing came.
He was right there.
An arm's reach away.
I could feel the warmth of his body now, see the flicker of emotion in his eyes, and fuck, I didn't know what to do.
I just knew one thing.
I didn't want to ruin this moment.
Not again.
_ _ _
Isaaq's POV
What the fuck was I doing?
I was supposed to be mad at him.
I was supposed to hate him.
I should've decked him across the face and given him a piece of my mind. That was the plan. That was always the plan.
But here I was. Standing in his office, staring at his stupidly perfect face, and all I could think about was kissing him.
Fuck.
After everything—
After the damage, the silence, the pain—
I still cared about him.
I was still in love with this bastard.
"Can I hug you?" I asked.
His answer was instant. He pulled me in like he'd been dying to do it all along. Arms around me, tight, warm, grounding. And yeah, I hugged him back.
I missed this.
I missed him—
Aiden... Hayden... whoever the hell he was, I missed both of them.
The scent of him, the way his body felt against mine. That steady heartbeat thumping against my chest like a memory I hadn't realized I still knew.
But I didn't want just a hug.
Hell no.
I wanted him.
So I pulled back just enough, just to look at him—and then I kissed him.
He flinched, caught off guard, but his lips moved with mine the second after.
Like his body knew what to do even if his brain hadn't caught up yet.
We kissed like we'd both been starved. Like angry wolves tearing into a fresh meal.
I didn't even care. I wanted him closer, harder, deeper.
My arms tightened around him, and he winced.
Shit.
I pulled back, panic flaring. "Fuck—are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said, breathless.
"No, you're not. You're hurt. Did you plan on treating your body wounds with your shirt on?"
He didn't answer.
Typical Hayden.
We've done... a lot of things. But I never really saw him shirtless. Felt him, yeah. Got hints. Under sweaters. Through jackets. But see? No.
Now that I could, I wasn't passing up the chance.
"Take it off," I said. "I'll help you."
He hesitated. I could see the unease in his eyes. But then... he gave in.
He peeled off his blazer. Then his shirt.
My jaw nearly hit the floor.
"Fuuuuuuck," I muttered, full-on staring. "Nice abs."
He was ridiculously toned—like sculpted from frustration and gym rage.
Bruises and scars littered his body, some fresh, some old. My mind raced, wondering where each came from.
"No way you got all these wounds from those jerks" I managed to let out
He only replied with a half smile.
And tattoos.
A couple of them.
But the one that stood out? A freaking lion head across his back.
It looked wild. Raw. Powerful.
I couldn't help but wonder why he kept this hidden from me all this time?
I didn't ask. I just got to work. I dabbed antiseptic on the wounds and wrapped a bandage around his torso, trying not to get distracted by every goddamn ripple of muscle under my fingertips.
When I finished, he grabbed me again and kissed me.
This one was softer.
But still desperate.
His tongue slid into my mouth and I melted all over again. My arms went around his neck, pulling him close, holding on like he might vanish if I let go.
He kissed my neck and I accidentally let out a moan.
"Hayden..." I breathed.
He shut me up with his lips again.
Didn't even give me time to recover.
"I fucking missed you, Isaaq," he whispered when he finally pulled back.
I was panting. "I missed you too."
He buried his face into my shoulder. His voice came out muffled. "I'm sorry... I'm fucking sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I tried to kill you. I'm a piece of shit. I know. But please... don't walk out on me again. Don't leave me."
I froze.
Was this... was he actually confessing?
My chest felt like it had been punched.
Not in a bad way—just in a real way.
"Well... you were a piece of shit," I said, because I'm me. "That much I can agree with."
He chuckled, a low, guilty laugh. "Isaaq, I... um... fuck."
I lifted his chin. "Spit it out, Greyman."
His face was red, ears too. God, it was adorable. I wasn't going to tell him that.
"Isaaq... will you go out with me?"
I blinked.
I was expecting that. But not like that. Not right now.
"With a piece of shit like you?" I teased. "I dunno... should I?"
He dropped his forehead against mine. "You asshole. You know I have feelings for you."
"How would I know? You pushed me away. Hell, I should walk away right now. I'm still mad at you, you know."
"I know, I know," he said quickly. "But I want to make it up to you somehow. So... what do you say?"
What do I say?
We hadn't even unpacked half the shit between us. There were so many things still unsaid, still broken, still cracked at the edges.
But maybe... maybe this could be the start of fixing that.
I brushed my fingers against his lips. Pulled him closer.
"Shut up and kiss me, you fucking moron."
He grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."
We kissed again, deep and slow, with the office door still wide open like two dumbasses who didn't care.
Because right now?
I didn't care.
Right now, all I cared about was him.