The next day in class, Celeste couldn't concentrate no matter how hard she tried. She stared at her textbook, at the neat rows of printed words, but none of it stuck. The professor's voice faded into the background, a dull hum she couldn't hold onto.
Her thoughts kept slipping—back to him.
Ever since that afternoon on the rooftop, her mind had been a mess. She felt stuck—caught in a loop of questions and feelings she couldn't untangle, no matter how hard she tried.
"I was looking for someone."
"Not what—who."
What had he meant by that? The question had gnawed at her, burrowing into the back of her thoughts like an unsolved riddle, whispering to her in the quiet moments when she least expected it. Surely, he hadn't meant her. That would be ridiculous… wouldn't it? She had spent most of her life being invisible, dismissed as an outcast, existing on the fringes of a world that had never wanted her. Mortalis like her were nothing. They passed through life unnoticed, unimportant. And yet, Jase—a Luminary, a being who existed on an entirely different level, who had been raised in a place where power dictated everything—had openly admitted that he was looking for someone when he came to Alas.
And the way he had looked at her when he said it…
Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned the page of her book, but she didn't process a single word. It was already too late. Her mind had betrayed her. Jase's words replayed like an echo she couldn't quiet, his voice low, deliberate, laced with something unreadable. His golden eyes, usually distant, had softened just enough to make her pulse falter. It was absurd. She shouldn't be thinking about him. She shouldn't be overanalyzing every look, every word, every change in his voice.
But she was.
And worse—it affected her.
Celeste let out a sharp breath, snapping herself out of the spiral. With a frustrated sigh, she pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying to cool the heat in her face.
This is ridiculous.
She needed to clear her head. To stop letting him take up so much space in her thoughts.
Because if she didn't—if she kept slipping deeper into this confusing, dangerous feeling—she wasn't sure she'd be able to pull herself back out.
*****
Celeste wanted to clear her mind and she thought that immersing herself with books would help to keep her mind off him. That's what brought Celeste to the library during her free period—looking for peace in the quiet, hoping the scent of old books and the stillness between the shelves might calm her racing thoughts.
Books had always been her escape. They never expected anything from her, never stared too long, never made her heart skip the way he did.
She ran her fingers along the spines, scanning titles, trying to find something—anything—that could take her mind off Jase. Off the way his words had stuck with her since that night on the rooftop.
Her eyes landed on a book just out of reach. She stretched onto her toes, fingers brushing the worn cover when—
Her foot slipped.
A sharp gasp caught in her throat as gravity betrayed her, and before she could brace for impact, a firm hand caught her waist, steadying her effortlessly. Warmth pressed against her side, strong and sure, sending an unexpected shiver rippling down her spine. And then, him.
A low, amused voice murmured near her ear, so close that she felt the ghost of his breath against her skin. "You're not very good at this, are you?"
Celeste froze.
Her heart leaped into her throat, her pulse thundering as her body went rigid beneath his touch. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was—she already felt him, already recognized the warmth that lingered between them, the quiet, dangerous confidence in his tone. Jase.
One of his hands remained steady against her waist, fingers pressing lightly through the fabric of her uniform, while his other hand had braced against the shelf beside her, effectively caging her between his body and the towering bookshelf. She could feel the heat of him, the barely-there shift of his breathing, the casual ease with which he had caught her—as if it had cost him no effort at all.
Celeste's breath hitched.
Suddenly, she noticed everything—the warmth of his hand on her waist, the scent of him in the air, fresh and clean. Her heart stumbled in her chest. And then she looked up—met his gaze.
His golden eyes were steady, calm, like nothing about this moment surprised him. Like being this close, touching her like this, was something completely normal.
"Careful," he murmured.
The warmth in his voice sent a sudden rush down her spine, settling low in her stomach, and before she could stop it, her face flushed even hotter.
Why did he always affect her like this? Why did he always sound so calm, so sure, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her?
Panic kicked in.
She jerked away so fast she nearly lost her balance again, her hands gripping the edge of the shelf as she put much-needed distance between them. "I—I was fine!" she stammered, her voice coming out embarrassingly higher than usual.
Jase's smirk deepened. "Sure you were."
"You don't have to sound so pleased with yourself," she muttered, her voice sharp—but not enough to hide the blush creeping up her neck.
Jase leaned back slightly, still watching her with that infuriatingly amused expression, the kind that said I know exactly what I'm doing to you. "If you say so."
Celeste turned away before he could see just how red her face had become, moving so quickly that the ends of her hair brushed lightly against his arm. Her heart was still hammering far too loudly, betraying her, and no matter how hard she tried to push the moment aside, she couldn't. She could still feel his hands on her, the imprint of his touch lingering long after it was gone, the weight of his gaze pressing against her even when she wasn't looking at him.
And Jase noticed.
The way she avoided meeting his eyes for the rest of the day, the way her fingers fidgeted when she thought he wasn't watching, the way her breath caught ever so slightly whenever their eyes did meet, no matter how much she tried to hide it.
And he found it—
Cute and entertaining. And it was his first time having such feelings.
*****
That evening, the soft light in the kitchen cast a gentle glow over the small dining table where Celeste sat across from her granny. The simple dinner—steamed rice, stir-fried vegetables, and grilled fish—sat between them, filling the room with a quiet warmth that always felt like home.
They ate in a familiar silence, the clink of chopsticks the only sound for a while—until Celeste finally spoke.
"Granny," she said, her voice quiet, uncertain, "what does it mean when someone keeps showing up in your thoughts?"
Granny glanced up from her rice, chewing thoughtfully before responding. "Depends. Are these thoughts... good ones?"
Celeste hesitated, then nodded. "Sort of. It's more than that, though. His words, the way he looks at me—it's like it stirs something in me I can't explain. Sometimes it's frustrating. Sometimes it makes me feel... off-balance. But I can't stop thinking about him."
Granny's lips curled into a gentle smile as she set her chopsticks down. "Hmm… sounds like the start of attraction to me."
"Attraction?" Celeste echoed, her brows lifting slightly.
Granny nodded, her eyes twinkling. "And maybe even the early signs of love. That kind of feeling sneaks up on you. You don't even notice it at first." Then, with a playful grin, she added, "Is my little Celeste getting a boyfriend soon?"
Celeste's face flushed as she quickly looked back down at her bowl. "It's not like that," she muttered, but her heart fluttered all the same.
Granny gave a small chuckle and reached over to pat her hand. "You say that now. But the heart always knows before we do."
That night, Celeste lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts a tangled, restless mess. She tossed and turned, pulled the blanket over her head, shut her eyes tight—again and again. But sleep wouldn't come.
Because every time she closed her eyes, he was there. His voice—smooth, teasing—echoed faintly in her mind. His golden eyes, sharp and unreadable, watching her like he was waiting for something she didn't know how to give.
And worse, she could still feel it—the firm press of his hand at her waist, the soft brush of his breath near her ear in the library.
It sent a shiver down her spine just remembering it. And no matter how hard she tried to forget, she couldn't stop feeling like he was still right there.
Celeste let out a muffled groan, burying her flushed face into her pillow, completely mortified by how much space he was taking up in her thoughts. This is bad.
"I can't like him."
"He's a Luminary."
"And I'm just a Mortalis."
But deep down, she already knew. It was too late.