Rain's Point of View
I do not get distracted.
Not in boardrooms. Not in courtrooms. Not in shootouts on Turkish docks.
And certainly not in Introduction to Human Rights Law on a Wednesday morning.
Except I'm currently being distracted by the glitter on her hair clip.
Sky Wang plops down in the empty seat between Ren and me with the gravitational force of a meteor. Her oversized lavender sweater slides off one shoulder, and her hair—jet black and knee-length, because of course it is—sways like a curtain every time she turns to say something to the professor.
I feel the weight of her presence like static. She hums while she unpacks her things. Hums.
Ren raises an eyebrow at me. I pretend I don't notice.
Then, like a missile aimed straight at my equilibrium, she spins in her seat and sets a coffee cup on my desk.
A very specific coffee cup.
A monstrous, too-sweet, whipped-cream-topped mountain of a drink—crammed with marshmallows, rainbow sprinkles, caramel drizzle, and chocolate chips.
Exactly like the one she dropped all over me yesterday.
I stare at it like it's a bomb.
"I got you a peace offering!" she chirps.
Then she produces two pastries from her bag, wrapped in pastel napkins. One strawberry. One chocolate.
"For your shirt," she explains, completely unfazed. "Which I may or may not have drowned in sugar fluff."
Ren coughs—he's laughing. Bastard.
I blink. "You... bought me dessert?"
"And coffee!" She leans in, whispering, "Extra marshmallows. Because you looked like the type to secretly like them."
"I don't."
"You will." She grins, then pulls out a glitter pen and starts taking notes.
I sit frozen, the cup still in front of me. It's absurd. It smells like a candy store. I've ordered assassinations with less hesitation than I have right now.
But I take a sip.
It's disgusting. It's perfect. It tastes like childhood dreams and nightmares rolled into one. And—God help me—it makes me want to smile.
I glance sideways. She's now doodling hearts around the professor's name. She hasn't looked at me once.
Ren leans over and mutters under his breath, "You're screwed."
I don't disagree.