Page 25 of Venomous Desires

The realization sent a thrill through me. “You look good yourself.”

“Am I?”

“Mm,” I hummed, as if I were seriously considering it, though the answer was obvious. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

His mouth twitched like he were trying not to smile properly, but failing anyway. “Unfortunately?” he repeated.

I shrugged, shifting my bag strap higher. “It’s distracting.”

His brows lifted at that, and he looked genuinely caught off guard. I immediately regretted, but he grinned. “You’re bold today,” he murmured. “I like it.”

“Am I?” I echoed his earlier tone, a little lighter now as we both laughed.

Chapter 9

The Prey

Ivan: See you in a few hours. ‘grinning emoji.’

Grinning, I typed.

Seraphina: Waiting. ‘blushing’.

After finishing my assignments, I cleared the table and reached for my clothes. My eyes landed on the sweater I’d been saving for a good day—a chunky beige cardigan with small red bows scattered across the front, fastened neatly with matching buttons. A gift from my father. After years, wearing it again felt like stepping into a memory I hadn’t realised I still carried.

A bittersweet warmth settled in my chest.

I paired it with boot-cut jeans and a red turtleneck underneath.

Standing in front of the mirror, I ran my fingers through freshly washed hair. For once, it behaved. Still, I hesitated for a moment before deciding on something simple.

I exhaled.Perfect.

Lip gloss next.

I reached for my phone. A new message from Ivan wasalready waiting.

Ivan: Asian or American?

I teased my bottom lip, feeling all kinds of emotions.

Seraphina: Chinese. ‘Chopsticks emoji.’

I called a cab, grinning to myself like a teenager being asked out for the first time. Ironically, itwasmy first time.

Through school and my teens, I’d never really shown interest in boys. Because most of them never seemed worth the attention they demanded. It made me keep my distance, somewhere along the way turning into an outright dislike for the idea of them altogether.

There had been exceptions, of course—crushes that stayed harmlessly in my head and nowhere else. But real-life interactions? Those usually ended badly.

Like the time a boy from my class asked me out. I broke his nose.

The next day, his ex-girlfriend broke mine.

The memory made me huff, especially at the way she had looked at me right before I’d headbutted her and taken out two of her teeth.

Anyway. That wasn’t the point.

The point was—I was going on a date. A first date.Potentially.