Maya moved with purpose today because it was tutoring day, and the rooftop awaited, along with Logan's dark gaze and his infuriating smirks. But as the turned a corner near the staircase, she heard her name.
"Maya."
She paused and turned. Damian stood there, all with a boyish grin and sunshine charm, his messenger bag slung across one shoulder like a prop in some indie rom-com. His hair glinted like he hadn't tried but still managed to look like every girl's friendly daydream crush.
"Hey," Maya said, surprised and genuinely pleased. "Long time."
"Yeah," Damian said with a sheepish chuckle, walking up to her. "I was starting to think you were ghosting me."
Guilt pricked at her. She hadn't meant to pull away. It was just Logan. Those whole weeks of tension and emotional whiplash had swept her away. "I'm sorry. I've just been overwhelmed."
Damian cocked his head. "With tutoring?"
She nodded, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "And class. Life. You know."
"Well," he said, stepping in just a little closer, his voice warming, "the crew's doing another coffee night. Not tonight, but tomorrow. You should come. It's not the same without you. Promise there'll be no near-death experiences involved this time."
Maya laughed, the sound light and real. "I'd like that. I can't tomorrow, but maybe the day after? I'll make it up to you."
Damian's smile widened with an edge of curiosity. His eyes dipped to her smile just for a second too long before he masked it with his usual friendly ease. "I'll hold you to that."
Unseen by them both, up above, Logan stood at the edge of the rooftop, one hand gripping the tailing like it had insulted him.
He saw them.
He saw him.
Damian, standing too close, leaning in with that perfect, all-American grin. And Maya with her relaxed shoulders and a softness in her expression Logan hadn't seen since she first started tutoring him. Logan felt it like a thunder struck in his chest. That wasn't friendly banter. That was intimacy. Familiarity and Possibility.
And he couldn't let it happen.
Logan turned, the metal door groaning open behind him as he stalked down the stairwell with feline grace. His blood was simmering, each step eating the distance between them like a slow storm brewing over calm waters.
Below, Maya was just saying goodbye when she heard footsteps behind her. Then a familiar voice followed.
"You're late."
She turned and there he was.
Logan was in six feet of mood and heat wrapped in black denim and retrained chaos. His jaw was tense and his eyes were darker than the shadow beneath the trees. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Damian.
"Oh," Maya blinked. "Logan."
"Didn't realize we were rescheduling tutoring to hallway socials." His voice was calm, but it was the calm of someone on edge.
Damian raised a brow, amused and unfazed. "Just catching up. Nothing criminal."
Logan's mouth curled, not into a smile, but into something more dark. "Right.:"
Maya, sensing the static building in the air, stepped forward. "Logan, I'll be up in a minute.'
Logan's eyes snapped to hers, and for the briefest second, the façade cracked. Something raw, hungry, and dangerously sincere shimmered behind his gaze. It wasn't jealousy. It was something worse. Possessiveness.
"I'll wait," he said. But it wasn't a suggestion.
With that, he turned, disappearing back up the stairs like a shadow folding into the dusk.
Damian exhaled, lowly, "Wow. He's intense.'
Maya didn't answer. Her heart was thudding too loud to think straight. That look, like she was his. Like he couldn't bear the idea of her sharing space, time, or laughter with anyone else.
"See you on Wednesday," she mumbled to Damian, already moving away.
As she ascended the stairs, every step closer to Logan made her skin tighter, and her breath became shallow.
Logan was waiting for Maya at the edge of the concrete ledge, his back turned and his arms crossed over his chest. The skyline burned behind him, the sun bleeding into fire-orange clouds.
"Logan," she said quietly.
He turned.
The look in his eyes made her stomach clench and her knees soften, it wasn't just jealousy, it was want and Hunger.
"You didn't have to come down," she whispered.
"I did," he replied, stepping closer. "He looked at you like he wanted to kiss you."
Then she caught her breath.
"And you looked like maybe you wanted him to."
She swallowed, her throat dry, "You don't get to say that."
"I know," Logan said, softer now, his eyes locked on hers like they were tethered by something invisible and unbreakable. "But it doesn't stop me from feeling it."
"You came down like a goddamn bodyguard Logan, you're not my damn bodyguard," she said with a tight voice, every word trembling with restraint.
Then Logan stood with his back to her, fists clenched at his sides. "Because watching him flirt with you made my blood boil. I'm not going to pretend it didn't."
"Why?" she challenged, stepping closer. "Why does it even matter to you who talks to me or who invites me for coffee or who-"
"Because it's not him you should be looking at like that!" he snapped, spinning around. His eyes, those impossibly dark eyes, seared into hers. "It's me, Maya."
Her heart thudded like a hammer behind her ribs, but she held her ground.
"You don't get to be jealous," she bit out, lifting her chin. "You've done nothing but confuse me for weeks. One minute you're charming and careless, the next you're intense and possessive. You can't Logan, you can't do that and expect me not to ask what the hell this is."
Logan moved then, with slow, deliberate steps that closed the gap between them like he was stalking the edge of control. "I'm jealous," he said. "Because I want you."
Maya flinched, the blunt confession slicing through her like lightning.
"I want you," he repeated, closer now, the space between them electrified. "Not just for tutoring. Not just to flirt with you until I'm bored. I want to know the way you laugh when you're not guarding yourself. I want to know what keeps you up at night, what makes you cry, what makes you come undone."
Her breath hitched.
"You think I don't feel anything?" he continued, eyes flicking down to her mouth. "That I've been playing some stupid game?"
"Aren't you?" she whispered, desperate to hold onto logic but already losing the battle. "You lied about needing help. You dragged me into your lies."
"Because I didn't know how else to get close to you," Logan said, the words tearing out of him. "I didn't expect this, I didn't expect you."
Maya's voice cracked. "Then why didn't you just say something?"
"Because I'm used to being wanted for the wrong reasons," he murmured, his forehead almost touching hers. "But you...you make me want to be better. And it scares the hell out of me."
She closed her eyes, her breath shallow and trembling. Every nerve in her body felt like it was reaching toward him, and despite every reason she had to walk away, every wall she had carefully built.
"I want you too," she said, barely audible, trembling on the edge of collapse. "God, I hate it but I do."
And like something in the air snapped, their mouths crashed into each other's with a fury that had been simmering for too long.
There was no hesitation. No pause. It was heat and need and the kind of desperate hunger that obliterated every thought in its path. Logan's hands were in her hair, tugging her closer, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Maya pressed into him like she was starved for the taste of him, like kissing him was the only way to breathe.
His mouth moved over hers, commanding and aching all at once. She clutched at his shirt, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath, the sheer intensity of his presence washing over her like a tidal wave. He growled into her mouth when her nails scraped lightly up his spine, pulling her tighter into him.
The kiss wasn't sweet or careful.
It was everything, pent-up tension, frustration, yearning and lust. A violent, beautiful collision of two people who had danced too long on the edge of the inevitable.
And when they finally broke apart, breathless and stunned, their foreheads pressed together, eyes still closed, it wasn't just want that crackled in the silence.