The lecture hall buzzed with the restless energy of a second semester kicking off. Lior slouched in his seat near the back, his laptop open but untouched, while Polina perched beside him, her sharp eyes scanning through notes with the precision of a hawk. The air between them crackled, not with the dry academic drone of Professor Hargrove’s syllabus review, but with their own private game of verbal ping-pong.
“Still haven’t submitted that econ paper, have you?” Polina teased, her voice low and laced with mock disapproval. She didn’t even look up from her screen, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “What’s the excuse this time? Dog ate your laptop?”
Lior grinned, leaning back with a lazy stretch. “Nah, I’m just waiting for you to write it for me, Pol. You’ve got that whole ‘overachiever’ vibe down pat. Might as well put it to use.”
She finally turned her head, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t do charity work. You want my help, you’ll have to beg for it. On your knees, preferably.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ruthless. I’m almost scared to ask what you’d demand in return.”
“Try me,” she shot back, her tone daring, her gaze locking with his for a beat too long before the lecture hall door swung open with a dramatic thud.
Heads turned as a new figure strutted in, all long legs and unapologetic confidence. Cveta. Lior’s jaw tightened instinctively as he recognized the familiar tilt of her chin, the way her smirk seemed to claim the room before she even spoke. She’d transferred out last year after a messy fallout—mostly with him—and now, apparently, she was back to haunt their group.
“Well, damn,” Lior muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Polina to catch.
“Who’s the runway model?” Polina hissed, her voice dripping with suspicion as Cveta scanned the seats and made a beeline straight for them.
Cveta didn’t hesitate, dropping into the empty chair beside Lior with the grace of a panther settling into its territory. She crossed her legs, her skirt riding up just enough to draw attention, and flashed him a smile that was all teeth. “Miss me, handsome? Bet you didn’t think I’d crash your little study party again.”
Polina’s glare could’ve frozen hell itself, but Cveta didn’t so much as glance her way. Lior shifted uncomfortably, caught between the two forces of nature. “Uh, hey, Cveta. Didn’t expect to see you back here.”
Polina leaned forward, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade dipped in honey. “Oh, look, it’s a blast from the past no one asked for. What’s the deal, Cveta? Flunk out of your last school, or just couldn’t resist crawling back for seconds?”
Cveta laughed, a low, throaty sound that somehow managed to be both dismissive and provocative. She tilted her head, winking at Polina with exaggerated charm. “Aw, don’t be like that, darling. I’m just here to spice things up. You looked like you needed the competition.”
Polina’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Sweetie, I don’t compete with leftovers. But by all means, keep trying.”
The lecture droned on, but the real battlefield was right there in row twelve. When the professor called for a break, Lior bolted for the campus café, hoping for a reprieve. No such luck. Cveta caught up with him just as he grabbed his overpriced latte, her presence looming like a storm cloud with a designer handbag.
“Remember the old days, Lior?” she purred, leaning against the counter beside him, her tone dripping with nostalgia. “All that unresolved tension. We never did get to… finish what we started.”
Lior coughed on his sip, nearly spilling coffee down his shirt. “Uh, yeah, ancient history, right? Water under the bridge and all that.”
Her hand brushed his arm, lingering just a second too long, her nails grazing his skin with deliberate intent. “History has a way of repeating itself, don’t you think?” Her gaze pinned him, bold and unapologetic, making his ears turn red.
From across the café, Polina watched the exchange, her jaw tightening as she gripped her own cup hard enough to dent the cardboard. “That shameless vulture,” she muttered to herself, her eyes narrowing. “Swooping in like she owns the damn place.”
Cveta’s voice carried just enough for Polina to catch the tail end of her next line. “How about we catch up after class, Lior? Just the two of us. I’ve got some… ideas to run by you.” The innuendo was so thick it could’ve been spread on toast.
Lior rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. “I, uh, I’ve got plans. Study group. Very important. Can’t miss it.”
Polina had seen enough. She stormed over, her boots clicking on the tiled floor with purpose, and inserted herself between them with a saccharine smile that could’ve curdled milk. “Hey, Cveta, why don’t you find your own sandbox to play in? This one’s taken.”
Cveta didn’t flinch, her smirk widening as she sized Polina up. “Oh, territorial, are we? Relax, babe, I’m not here to steal your little toy. Just testing the waters. He’s still got that cute, flustered thing going on, though, doesn’t he?”
Polina’s eyes flashed, but her voice stayed razor-sharp. “Keep testing, hon. I’ve got no problem drowning you in those waters.”
Lior, desperate to douse the brewing catfight, tried to interject. “Hey, uh, why don’t we all just… chill? Like, remember that time I tried to make ramen in the dorm microwave and nearly burned the place down? Classic, right?”
Both women turned to him, their expressions mirroring each other in rare unison—pure, unadulterated exasperation. Polina rolled her eyes. “Lior, your timing is worse than your cooking.”
Cveta snorted. “Agreed. Stick to looking pretty, babe. Leave the comedy to the pros.”
The trio parted ways, but not before Cveta leaned in close to Lior, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Don’t worry, darling. I’m not done with you yet. Old sparks die hard.” She pulled back with a wink and sauntered off, leaving him blinking after her.
Polina grabbed his wrist, her grip firm as she dragged him toward the courtyard. “What the hell was that, Lior? You gonna tell me you’ve got some tragic backstory with Miss Catwalk over there, or do I have to drag it out of you?”
He flashed a sheepish grin, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s nothing, Pol. Just old drama. Ancient. Prehistoric, even. I’m all yours—well, metaphorically. Or, uh, academically?”
Her skeptical smirk said she wasn’t buying it. “Mhm. Keep your pants on, Romeo. I don’t share, and I sure as hell don’t play nice with scavengers like her.”
As they disappeared around the corner, Cveta lingered near the café window, her sly grin spreading as she sipped her drink. “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” she murmured to herself, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Let the games begin.”
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