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Anya
The classroom smelled faintly of chalk dust and old textbooks, an aroma that somehow made detention feel even worse. Anya sat at the corner desk, tapping her pencil nervously against the surface.
She’d been called here for doodling in margins during class, which, honestly, was an exaggeration—but Mrs. H. never cared about facts.
Across from her, Damian sat upright, spine impossibly straight, hands folded neatly in front of him. His brown hair glimmered under the fluorescent lights, hazel eyes sharp and focused… and completely impossible to ignore.
Ten years. Ten years of being in the same classes, navigating the same hallways, relentless teasing and fighting , and now she was sitting here in detention with him.
The thought should have been terrifying, but instead… it felt like an adventure.
The teacher droned on at the front of the room. “So, the hypotenuse of the triangle is the—”
Anya blinked once. Twice. Her eyelids suddenly felt like lead. The words slurred into a soft hum, melting into the background. Somewhere between “triangle” and the next sentence, her pencil slipped from her hand, landing softly on the desk. Her head drooped slightly, and she drifted into daydream-land.
Her dream was simple: she was standing in Damian’s living room, looking around in awe. She had finally been invited to his house after ten years of friendship.
The couch was ridiculously comfortable. His older brother, probably wouldn’t even know she existed because Damian was… Damian.
And he was standing right there, looking almost impossibly handsome, even in casual clothes.
She laughed softly to herself.
Damian.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she said his name out loud.
Damian
The corners of his mouth twitched. He had been observing Anya’s doodling—not that he ever needed an excuse to watch her—and now she had somehow dozed off mid-detention, pencil slipping gently from her fingers. Typical Anya. She looked ridiculous and adorable, all at once.
And then he heard it.
“Damian…” she murmured, dreamy, half-asleep.
Hazel eyes widened. She had said his name. And not in the polite, orderly tone of a classmate—it had been soft, warm, almost… affectionate.
He tried to maintain his composure. After all, he was Damian Desmond. Poise was a natural state. But then she wriggled in her seat, smiled faintly in her sleep, and let out a small, contented sigh.
A laugh—a proper, full laugh—escaped him before he could stop it. His shoulders shook just slightly, and he covered his mouth, hoping no one noticed.
Anya’s eyes fluttered open halfway. “…Damian?” she said, still in that sleepy, dreamlike voice.
“You… you’re not supposed to be sleeping,” he said, voice surprisingly strained as he tried not to grin.
“I… was dreaming,” she admitted, rubbing her eyes. “About… uh… nothing.”
Damian raised an eyebrow. “About nothing?”
“Yes, nothing,” she said, a mischievous glint appearing despite the haze of her nap. “Just… triangles and… hypotheticals.”
Hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Triangles?”
“You said hypotenuse,” she said, smirking faintly. “So, I imagined… a triangle… with
you and me… at the corners… it was… complicated. But funny.”
And then she laughed—a soft, tinkling sound that made Damian’s chest tighten and his shoulders loosen simultaneously. He tried to pretend he wasn’t affected. Failed miserably.
Anya
Damian’s quiet chuckle didn’t escape her. In fact, it made her grin, sitting up properly. “You’re laughing! Damian Desmond, I’ve never heard you laugh like that.”
“It’s… not relevant,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him with a twitch.
“Oh, it’s very relevant,” she teased, nudging his arm lightly with her elbow. “You look ridiculous when you try to hide it. Cute, but ridiculous.”
He tried to frown. Failed. He hated failing, but she was just… persistent. And adorable.
“I… uh… you shouldn’t make me laugh during detention,” he said, voice slightly strained, though there was no real threat in it.
“I’m not making you laugh,” she said innocently. “You’re… just… reacting to my genius.”
Hazel eyes narrowed again, suspicious but amused. “Genius?”
“Yes! Genius,” she confirmed, wagging a finger. “Ten years of friendship and you’ve never seen my true brilliance until now. Observe.”
She reached for her notebook, flipped it open, and drew a triangle with extra dramatic lines and arrows, labeling each corner with silly, nonsensical names. Damian couldn’t help it—he laughed again, louder this time. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet classroom.
Damian
Okay. Enough. She was clearly enjoying
herself way too much. The corner of his mouth twitched, and then—he caught it. Her grin. That triumphant, mischievous, “I know exactly what I’m doing” grin.
Hazel eyes softened. Ten years. Ten years of knowing this girl, thinking of her as a friend, and somehow, she still managed to surprise him. Even in detention. Even in a ridiculous triangle doodle.
Even when she was making him laugh like some foolish boy instead of the composed Desmond heir.
“I… admit… this is… amusing,” he said carefully, tone controlled but failing miserably.
“See?” she said, pointing dramatically at him. “Admit it, Damian. I’ve unlocked a secret—your funny side. You’re welcome.”
He rolled his eyes, trying not to smile.
“Funny side is… classified.”
“Classified, huh?” she teased. “So… maybe I should… be invited to see your house now. Ten years of friendship and I’ve never been inside! Seems unfair.”
Hazel eyes widened, just slightly. That… might be too bold. She was cute, but bold. Very bold. And… persuasive.
“You… you may visit,” he said, almost muttering, hiding a twitching smirk.
Anya’s grin grew impossibly wide. “Really?”
“Yes… really,” he replied, clearing his throat. “But… keep it… normal.”
“Normal?!” she gasped dramatically. “You mean… boring, unamusing, entirely serious?”
“Yes,” he said, deadpan. “Exactly. Normal.”
She leaned closer conspiratorially, whispering, “I’ll try, but no promises.”
He stared at her, heart… suspiciously warm.
Ten years. And somehow, in detention, with a triangle doodle, she had just made him laugh more than anything in weeks.
He hated it. And he loved it.
Anya
The detention ended. They walked out together, exchanging quiet jokes and playful nudges. The thought of finally going to Damian’s house made her heart race, but she kept up her grin.
Ten years. Ten years of friendship, and now… new territory. Laughs. Secrets. And maybe… something more.
Damian
He watched her skip ahead, notebook clutched to her chest, a satisfied, soft smirk on his face. Ten years. Ten years of keeping her at arm’s length, and yet… somehow, she had broken through his composure in detention, in one moment, with a simple triangle doodle.
She’s a menace , he thought. But in a way that made him… glad.
Yes. She was a menace . And he wouldn’t have it any other way.