She Called Me Hers'

Some people flinch when they're avoided.

I don't flinch. I fight.

And Lucien Gray was about to learn what it meant to avoid a girl like me.

I didn't dress soft that day. I dressed dangerous. Black crop top. Ripped jeans. My lip gloss was blood-pink, and my stare could kill.

I walked through the halls like a storm barely held together by mascara. The whispering started the moment I passed through the school's front doors.

"She's in one of her moods again." "Don't look at her. Seriously."

I didn't care. Not one bit. Because I wasn't there for them. I was there for him.

But Lucien wasn't where he usually was.

Not by the lockers. Not under the tree where he sometimes sat. Not even in the library, which was weird because that place was practically his sanctuary.

He was dodging me. And that's when I felt it.

This wasn't indifference anymore. This was intentional.

Every time I entered a hallway, he slipped out the other end. In first period, his desk was empty. In second, he sat in the far corner and didn't lift his eyes once.

I drummed my pen against the desk loud enough to echo. Still nothing.

In third period, I spotted him near the side stairwell… with her.

She wasn't from our class. Maybe a year younger. Pretty in an effortless, artsy way. Soft voice. Hair in a loose curly bun. A paint stain on her sleeve like it was a badge of honor.

And she touched him.

She actually touched him. Her fingers brushed his arm and she laughed at something stupid. His face didn't change, but he didn't pull away either.

It was like something inside me cracked.

I didn't go to them right away. I watched. Studied. Let the jealousy melt into a weapon before I used it.

They sat on the stone steps behind the art building just outside the courtyard. It was quiet there. Private.

I let my boots announce me.

"Move," I said, stepping into her sun.

The girl blinked up at me. "Sorry?"

"I said move. Before I show you what happens when hands forget where they belong."

Lucien looked up. Not surprised. Not defensive. Just quiet.

The girl stood slowly. "Is this really necessary?"

I gave her a long look. "I know how girls like you play innocent. You touch, you laugh, you slide in while the real one is looking. But I don't play games I didn't start."

Lucien stood. "Aria, leave it."

"No."

The girl tried to intervene. "I was just—"

"You were just trying to see if he'd pick you." I stepped closer. "He won't."

Lucien stepped in front of her. Not because he wanted to protect her I knew that. It was to stop me.

"You need to stop," he said, low.

My chest tightened. "She touched you."

"She was being polite."

"She was being desperate."

The girl took the hint and left. Smart girl.

I stared at him. "So, you're just letting anyone get close now?"

"You're the one who keeps pushing."

I blinked. "I chase. I don't push."

"It's the same thing to someone who's not trying to be caught."

Ouch.

I stepped back. My voice didn't shake. "You think I want just anyone? I want you. And you're acting like I'm the problem for it."

He didn't answer. He just walked away.

And this time… I didn't follow.

At home that evening, the house smelled like cinnamon and melted cheese.

My mom was humming in the kitchen, hands deep in dough, apron dusted with flour. Dad was dancing with her like they were still young. Leo sat at the counter, kicking his legs and laughing through spoonfuls of ice cream.

It was... warm.

I stepped in and smiled.

"Hey, look who finally came out of the storm," Dad teased.,"

Her royal Highness. princess aria. I said smirking.

"Don't ruin your dinner," Mom warned, tossing a playful glare at Leo.

Leo held up a spoon in defense. "She's the one who came late."

We all laughed. For a moment, I felt normal again.

After dinner, I stayed with them longer. My parents moved to the living room, bickering playfully over what movie to watch. I went to the kitchen to rinse my plate.

Leo followed behind me.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"Sure."

"You don't look it."

I dried my hands slowly. "It's Lucien."

Leo leaned on the counter. "What happened now?"

"He's avoiding me. I don't know why. Like I'm a fire and he's the matchbox that's scared to open."

"Maybe he doesn't want to get burned."

"Or maybe he doesn't want to admit he already is."

Leo tilted his head. "You ever think you might be scaring him?"

"I don't scare boys. I wake them up."

He raised a brow. "Same difference."

I smirked and bumped his shoulder. "I'm not letting him go."

"I know," Leo said. "And that's what's scaring me."

Later, when everyone had gone to bed, I stared at my ceiling. That girl. That brush of fingers on Lucien's sleeve. His silence and not resisting the girl.

I typed ten different messages. Deleted them all.

He was slipping away. And I didn't know how to stop it.

So I posted a picture instead — no caption. Just my reflection in a mirror, half-shadow, lips parted. Something haunting in my own eyes.

I didn't tag him. Didn't need to. He saw it.

He always sees me.

Lucien's POV

He stayed late on purpose.

He knew his parents were supposed to be gone business trip to Brussels, or maybe Dubai, he didn't remember anymore. It didn't matter. They were always leaving.

But this time, they stayed.

He walked in past ten.

And there they were.

Sitting in the living room like statues in a gallery expensive wine on the table, silence in the air.

"You're late," his mother said, barely looking up.

"I had a project," he muttered.

"Your grades came in," his father said. "You've finally stopped embarrassing us."

Lucien stayed quiet.

His mother stood. "It's about time you acted like a Gray. Clean grades, clean image. Just stay focused until the army, and then your real training begins."

"Did you eat?" he asked, barely hearing himself.

His mother blinked. "What?"

"Nothing."

His father poured another glass. "You'll get your uniform delivered Friday. Ceremony day, we leave right after. No parties. No girls."

Lucien clenched his jaw.

"Do you understand me?" his father pressed.

"Yes, sir."

They didn't ask how he felt.

They never did.

He went upstairs. Sat in the dark.

His phone buzzed once.

A post.

Aria.

Her face. Her mouth. No words. Just her.

He stared at it for too long.

Because the one girl they told him to avoid…

was the only one who ever made him feel seen.

The Next Morning

I wore silence. No red. No boots. Just a black hoodie and my mother's old necklace. Something softer.

I passed Lucien in the hall. Didn't look at him. Didn't breathe.

But my shoulder brushed his. And he flinched.

Good.

Because if I couldn't be in his heart, I'd live in his nerves.