Tristan finished reading his lines. “Hey, Juliet, it’s your turn.” He smirked.
“Oh, right.” Kira looked down at her book. “‘O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art though Romeo.'” She tried to copy his apathetic style of reading and was secretly overjoyed when he laughed at her.
“I get it, I sounded like an idiot.” She just continued giving him the same silent treatment he had given her. “Okay, here’s the truth, Kira. We can’t talk here, and we shouldn’t even be talking now, or maybe ever.”
“You told me that already.” Kira stopped reading.
“Yet, you seem to have trouble understanding it. English is your first language, right?” he teased. She rolled her eyes at the joke. “Like I said before, we just can’t ever be.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I also know you don’t mean it.” She leaned closer to him to prevent from being overheard.
“I do,” Tristan said, forcing the point.
“Oh really?” she tried to push him now. “It didn’t seem that way when you kissed me.”
“Kira, forget that ever happened, okay?”
“Or what? You don’t scare me.”
“I should,” he said and shot Kira a lethal look.
In that moment, Tristan’s eyes changed color to the lightest blue she could imagine, and they held her captive. Not in the romantic way, but as though she were a prisoner held paralyzed. His gaze was ice cold, making her shiver as though she had been dropped in an arctic pool, and slowly his pupils began to expand, overtaking his irises.
Fear tightened Kira’s throat. She was scared, but more than that, she felt like he knew it and didn’t care. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away–she was completely stuck. Slowly, a feeling of warmth spread to her hands, burning hot, a sense of power that fought the dread tightening her stomach in knots.
Whipping her gaze to the floor, Kira breathed heavily as she finally broke Tristan’s stare. Her fingertips still tingled with the heat that had coursed through her, allowing her to break his gaze. She leaned back against her chair, away from him, and touched her fingers to her cheek.
They burned into her skin.
“What the heck was that?” she asked unsteadily, still not looking up. The heat emanating from her hand absorbed all of Kira’s thoughts.
“Me,” Tristan said with the venom gone from his voice. She looked at him again, catching the unbearably sad expression in his eyes before he looked away.
Or me? she thought, feeling the warmth finally ebb.