Page 4 of Venomous Desires

“Yeah? Careless American blood.”

Some students snickered, and I lowered my head. “I apologise.”

She released my wrist, and I cradled it instinctively. “Next time, be mindful.”

I nodded, avoiding her gaze as she adjusted her glasses and strode to the front. Swallowing the embarrassment, I bent to grab my earbuds, only to fumble and drop them again. One rolled just out of reach.

For heaven’s sake.

The earbud slipped from my fingers and rolled under the bench. Muttering under my breath, I crouched and reached for it, only for another hand to snatch it first.

Startled, I jerked upright.

Thunk.

“Ow!” I hissed, clutching my head after smacking it against the underside of the desk.

A soft tug on my sleeve made me look down again. A boy was crouched on the other side of the bench, grinning.

“Looking for this?” he asked, holding up my earbud just out of reach, amusement dancing in his eyes.

For a second, I just stared. Then I reached for it. Our fingers brushed, and I recoiled so fast you’d think I’d been burned, stuffing the earbud into my bag without meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, rubbing the sore spot on my head.

“Ivan.” He held out his hand.

I stared at it for a beat before giving it the quickest handshake in human history. “Seraphina.”

“Exchange student?” he asked.

“Scholarship,” I managed with a small nod.

“Seriously?” His eyebrows shot up. “That’s impressive.”

I looked down at my notebook, pretending to take notes. Instead, I filled half a page with meaningless squiggles.

Smooth.

“So... where are you from?” His voice came a little closer. Close enough for me to notice the flecks of gold in his green eyes through the broken glasses, and I catch the clean scent of rain and cedar clinging to him.

I forgot whatever Ms. Olga had been saying about genetics as I scooted to the edge of my seat, heat creeping up my neck.

Then, because the universe clearly wasn’t done humiliating me, my elbow caught my water bottle. It rolled across the desk.

No. No, no, no—

Before it could crash to the floor, Ivan caught it with one hand.

“Thanks,” I muttered, my face burning.

“I’m from Moscow,” he said. “What about you?”

“Originally the States,” I replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “But we moved around a lot.”

“So you’ve been here long?”

“Just a week,” I shrugged. “Still getting used to everything. The culture’s so different.”