So what's your excuse?
The morning sun was just beginning to filter through the trees as Agatha and Jen walked across the school parking lot. Agatha kept her gaze fixed ahead, tuning out Jen’s steady stream of chatter, but her sister was relentless.
“I mean, I still think it’s totally unfair,” Jen was saying, her tone earnest. “I’m sixteen, Ag, and it’s not like I’m asking for the world here. Just a date! With a nice person. Who could even say no to that?”
Agatha rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not the one who makes the rules, Jen. Take it up with Dad.”
Jen huffed, her pace quickening to keep up with Agatha. “You could at least support me! I mean, you’re so okay with not dating anyone, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are!”
Agatha clenched her jaw, irritation simmering. The last thing she needed was a lecture on why she should care about high school dating. “Maybe you should try not obsessing over things you can’t change,” she muttered, her voice clipped.
Jen’s expression softened, a little too understanding for Agatha’s liking. “Oh, come on, Ag. You could loosen up a little. It wouldn’t kill you, you know.”
That was the final straw. Agatha exhaled sharply, pushing past her sister with a brisk step. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied coolly, storming off without looking back.
She rounded the corner too quickly, nearly colliding with someone in her path. Alice—a freshman Agatha vaguely recognized from the hallways—let out a startled gasp as her books slipped from her hands, scattering across the ground.
“Oh—sorry,” Agatha mumbled, more out of obligation than genuine apology. She started to walk past, but Jen rushed forward, her expression instantly concerned.
“Wait! Let me help you with that,” Jen said, bending down to gather Alice’s things, her smile warm and sincere.
Alice’s cheeks flushed as she scrambled to pick up her scattered papers. “Th-thank you,” she stammered, looking flustered but grateful. Her gaze darted between her fallen books and Jen’s face, clearly caught off guard by the unexpected kindness.
“No problem!” Jen replied brightly, stacking a few of Alice’s notebooks in her arms before handing them back. “I know what it’s like to have a hectic morning.”
Alice smiled shyly, her fingers brushing against Jen’s as she took the books. “Yeah, it’s…um, it’s kind of my specialty.”
Jen chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey, if you ever need someone to help you lug all this stuff around, just let me know. I’m kind of a pro at handling chaos.”
Alice blinked, clearly taken aback by Jen’s friendliness. “Oh…thanks. That’s really nice of you.”
Agatha, watching from a few feet away, crossed her arms, unable to stop the small smirk that formed as she noticed Alice’s flustered expression. “Better hurry up, Jen, or you’ll be late,” she called over, her voice tinged with faint amusement.
Jen shot her a quick, unbothered glance, then turned back to Alice with a smile. “I’ll catch up with you, Ag.”
Agatha rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, turning and making her way down the hallway, leaving Jen and Alice to their little moment. As much as she found her sister’s constant optimism exasperating, she couldn’t deny that Jen had a knack for drawing people in, even when they were practically strangers.
And, in some way she wouldn’t admit, Agatha envied that lightness, that ability to connect so easily. But she shoved the thought aside, her irritation lingering as she walked through the bustling hallway.
Agatha hadn’t meant to think about Rio Vidal. She was fully prepared to ignore whatever it was that had intrigued her, to bury that brief flicker of curiosity and carry on as usual. But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.
As she strolled down the corridor to her locker, she felt that familiar prickle of awareness—the sensation of someone watching her. She set her jaw, refusing to let it get to her, even as she sensed the figure leaning against the lockers, waiting.
She cast a quick, sidelong glance, only to find Rio casually leaning against the metal, hands tucked in her pockets, that same lazy grin tugging at her lips. She wore a well-worn leather jacket over a fitted t-shirt, faded jeans slung low on her hips, and boots that looked like they’d seen their fair share of adventures. Everything about her seemed effortless, the kind of cool that felt both calculated and somehow completely natural.
Agatha pursed her lips, her gaze flicking over Rio’s outfit before she forced herself to look away. She knew the type—she’d seen it before. It was that messy, laid-back look that probably worked on people, the kind of image that made you think there was something worth discovering underneath, as if the attitude was just a layer you could peel back. And Rio wore it well, Agatha had to admit, even if she found it annoyingly transparent.
But as she turned to face her locker, she couldn’t shake the weight of Rio’s gaze, the way it seemed to pin her in place. And despite her best efforts to ignore it, her pulse quickened, her mind churning as she sensed Rio’s presence just a few feet away, watching her, waiting.
“Miss Harkness,” Rio drawled, her tone laced with easy confidence, a grin tugging at her mouth as Agatha finally turned to face her. “Fancy running into you here.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes, hiding the warmth that threatened to rise to her cheeks. “Do you make it a habit of lurking around every corner?”
Rio’s grin widened. “Only the interesting ones.” Her gaze flicked over Agatha again, slow and assessing, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge, as if she were daring Agatha to deny it.
Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line, her arms crossing over her chest in a stance she hoped looked casual. But her pulse betrayed her, hammering steadily beneath her skin, and it was all she could do to keep her expression cool, uninterested. “Well, I hate to disappoint, but you won’t find anything interesting here.”
Rio didn’t flinch. Instead, she took a step closer, her gaze unrelenting, like she was reading something invisible etched beneath Agatha’s surface. Each step closed the space between them, leaving barely enough room for Agatha to breathe, and suddenly the air felt charged, thick with something unspoken.
“Funny,” Rio murmured, her voice low, smooth. “I don’t think you actually believe that.”
Agatha stiffened, her pulse quickening as Rio’s gaze pinned her in place, unblinking, like a weight pressing against her skin. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way Rio stood there, watching her with that maddening certainty, as if she’d already seen right through every wall Agatha put up.
Rio’s scent—something earthy, warm, a hint of something wild and untamed—wrapped around her, and Agatha’s resolve wavered, a barely-there flicker that she fought to hide. She could feel the warmth radiating off of Rio, could practically hear the steady beat of her own heart, each pulse louder, sharper, in the charged silence between them.
She set her jaw, tightening her grip on her own composure. “Whatever you think you know,” she replied, her voice low and sharp, though she could hear the edge of her own vulnerability threading through, “you’re wrong.”
But Rio’s expression softened, just a hint, as her eyes remained locked on Agatha’s. Her gaze held steady, never once breaking, and Agatha felt a flush creeping up her neck despite herself, a betrayal of the calm facade she so carefully wore.
“Am I?” Rio asked, voice soft, a quiet challenge that left Agatha’s heart stumbling over itself.
The words hung between them, suspended in a tension so thick it was almost tangible. Agatha felt her control slipping, the practiced mask she wore around everyone—cold, detached, untouchable—beginning to crack under the weight of Rio’s attention. She could practically feel the intensity radiating off her, like a slow burn, eroding her defenses.
She opened her mouth to reply, to shut Rio down, to end this unsettling pull, but the words died on her lips, tangled in her throat. Her gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, flicking to Rio’s mouth, noting the hint of a smirk, the subtle, maddening way her eyes danced, as if she could see right through her.
Finally, feeling her cheeks warm in a way she couldn’t quite hide, Agatha turned her gaze to her locker, desperate to anchor herself, to steady her racing thoughts. “If you’re just here to amuse yourself,” she managed, though her voice felt weaker than she wanted it to, “I’d suggest finding someone else.”
But Rio only tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You think I’m just here for fun?” She sounded almost offended, like the suggestion itself was absurd.
Agatha scoffed, though her voice wavered, betraying the turmoil swirling inside. “Isn’t that all you do?”
Rio didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let her gaze linger, her eyes holding a warmth that Agatha found impossible to ignore, something deeper than the usual amusement, something that left her feeling bare, exposed. It wasn’t fair—the way Rio could just stand there, seemingly calm, in control, as if she held every answer to questions Agatha hadn’t even asked.
“Maybe I just enjoy a challenge,” Rio murmured finally, her voice barely above a whisper, soft, calm, as if the game had been hers all along.
Agatha felt her heart skip, heat blooming in her cheeks as she clenched her fists, hating the way Rio seemed to slip so easily beneath her skin. She wanted to brush her off, to hold on to her practiced indifference, but something about Rio’s tone, the quiet sincerity in her eyes, left her shaken.
“Then you’re wasting your time,” she replied, her voice clipped, though the words felt hollow, empty, even to her own ears.
Rio’s smirk softened, a look of faint amusement, as if she saw right through her deflection, her attempts at cool detachment. “If that’s what you want to believe,” she replied softly, her tone carrying a quiet challenge, daring Agatha to question it.
Agatha’s jaw tightened, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. She held Rio’s gaze, feeling a frustrating mix of irritation, defiance, and—though she wouldn’t admit it—something else. Something warm and unsettling, something that left her feeling raw, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words, until finally, Rio leaned back, her smirk softening into something almost gentle, something that left Agatha’s pulse hammering in her chest, a confusing, infuriating ache.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Rio murmured, her voice low and smooth, lingering in the air between them.
And just like that, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she disappeared from view. Agatha stood there, heart pounding, a faint, unbidden warmth still clinging to her skin, the memory of Rio’s gaze burning long after she’d gone.
And as much as she hated it, she knew she’d be thinking about this for a long time.
Rio watched Agatha walk away, her cool indifference lingering in the air long after she’d disappeared down the hall. She’d barely flinched, shutting down Rio’s every attempt with that razor-sharp tongue of hers, leaving Rio more intrigued than discouraged.
Just as she was mulling over her next move, Billy sidled up, a smirk already plastered on his face. “Ouch. That one’s gotta sting,” he drawled, folding his arms as he leaned against the lockers. “Guess you’re not as smooth as you thought, huh?”
Rio shot him a sideways glance, unimpressed. “And you’re an expert on this because…?”
Billy shrugged, feigning innocence. “I just figured you’d have her wrapped around your finger by now. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be good at?”
Rio rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as a lazy smile tugged at her mouth. “Please. This was just round one,” she replied smoothly, but there was a glint in her eyes that hinted at a deeper determination. “Didn’t expect her to fall at my feet, Billy. Some people actually take a little finesse.”
Billy raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Sounds like excuses to me. I’m just saying, she’s not exactly your type, right? Too… what’s the word? Uptight? Or maybe you’re losing your touch.”
Rio’s smirk didn’t falter. “Trust me,” she said, her tone deceptively casual, “I haven’t lost a thing.”
Billy laughed, clearly amused. “Good luck, then. Because she doesn’t look like the type to go for ‘charming delinquent.’”
Rio tilted her head, watching Billy with a glint of amusement. “You know, I think I’m going to enjoy proving you wrong.”
Billy chuckled, clearly entertained by the idea. “Well, I’ll be watching. Just don’t come crying to me when she tears you to shreds.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Rio replied, her tone deceptively light as she glanced down the hall, where Agatha had vanished moments before. Her expression hardened with a quiet determination, her gaze sharpening. “She hasn’t seen anything yet.”
As Billy walked off, still chuckling to himself, Rio stood alone in the hallway, her mind racing with plans. Agatha Harkness wasn’t going to be an easy win—and that’s exactly why she was going to be worth it.
Agatha didn’t expect her afternoon to be interrupted. She’d found her usual table at the corner of the campus café, settled into her book, a cup of tea steaming beside her. It was one of the few places she could be alone, where she could sink into herself without anyone breaking through.
But then Rio Vidal walked in.
Agatha didn’t look up immediately—she didn’t need to. She felt Rio’s presence the second she entered, an awareness prickling at the edge of her senses, a feeling she stubbornly tried to ignore. She kept her eyes on the page, willing herself to focus. But the closer Rio got, the harder it became to pretend she wasn’t there, her heart betraying her with a quickening beat.
Finally, when the soft scuff of boots stopped beside her, Agatha lifted her gaze, barely disguising her irritation. Rio’s face hovered over her, a faint, amused smile tugging at her lips, dark eyes sharp and glinting as they met Agatha’s.
“Afternoon, Harkness,” Rio greeted, her tone low and smooth, carrying that infuriatingly relaxed drawl.
Agatha’s lips pressed together, her fingers tightening around the edge of her book. She knew she should ignore her, brush her off, but the warmth of Rio’s gaze, the unwavering certainty in her eyes, made that option feel next to impossible. “Is this some kind of new hobby?” she asked, her tone clipped. “Following me around?”
Rio’s smile didn’t waver. She tilted her head slightly, the movement so subtle it felt like a deliberate challenge. “Public café,” she replied, easing herself into the chair across from Agatha without waiting for an invitation. “You don’t have a monopoly on solitude here.”
Agatha exhaled sharply, a small, involuntary sound that escaped before she could stop it. She wasn’t used to people crossing her boundaries so effortlessly, and Rio’s unbothered demeanor grated at her more than she’d like to admit. She tried to mask the faint flush creeping up her neck, but Rio was watching her too closely, eyes flicking over her face, catching the smallest hints—the tightening of her jaw, the way her fingers tapped rhythmically against the spine of her book.
“What do you want, Vidal?” Agatha asked finally, her voice low, almost clipped, though she could feel the faintest flicker of something else beneath her tone—something she refused to name.
Rio leaned back, folding her arms across her chest, her gaze steady, unwavering. “Maybe I just wanted some company.”
“Then you’ve got the wrong table,” Agatha shot back, but her words felt thin, lacking the usual steel she relied on. Her pulse picked up, each beat a reminder of how deeply Rio got under her skin.
Rio chuckled, a soft, low sound that vibrated in the space between them. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
There was something in her tone—confidence, certainty—that left Agatha feeling stripped bare, as though Rio was seeing right through her practiced calm, her well-crafted indifference. Agatha’s cheeks burned, and she tore her gaze back to her book, hoping to steady herself.
But then Rio leaned forward, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “Let me guess. You’re the type who sits here, nose buried in a book, pretending you don’t care that everyone around you is wondering who the hell you are.”
Agatha’s gaze snapped back up, her pulse fluttering in her throat. She wanted to shut her down, to cut Rio’s words off with a single icy look, but they seemed to linger in the air, settling under her skin in a way she couldn’t ignore.
Rio’s smirk softened, her expression shifting to something almost sincere, as if she were genuinely curious, genuinely interested in the answer. “You know, I get it. Being mysterious, keeping people at arm’s length—it’s a good way to keep control. But you’re fooling yourself if you think no one sees through it.”
Agatha’s breath caught, just for a second, a quick hitch she knew Rio heard. She felt heat rush to her cheeks, irritation flaring as she clenched her jaw. She hated that Rio thought she had her figured out, hated the way she leaned in, close enough to see beyond Agatha’s armor.
Agatha tilted her head, a faint, practiced smile tugging at her mouth. “Fooling myself?” she echoed, voice smooth, soft. “Is that what you think?”
Rio leaned back, arms still crossed, eyes gleaming with a hint of challenge. “That’s what I know.”
Agatha laughed softly, a sharp, mocking sound that held no warmth. She leaned forward just slightly, mirroring Rio’s posture, letting her gaze linger on Rio’s face, flicking briefly to her mouth before snapping back up. “You must think you’re pretty charming, don’t you?”
Rio’s smirk widened, her eyes dancing with amusement. “I don’t think it—I know it.”
Agatha’s smile deepened, her eyes gleaming with a glint of mischief as she leaned in just a fraction closer, letting her voice drop to a near-whisper. “And here I thought charm required actual substance.”
Rio’s expression didn’t falter, though her gaze flicked down to Agatha’s lips, lingering there just a beat too long. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of substance, Harkness.”
Agatha raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Is that so?”
Rio’s smirk softened, her gaze growing darker, more intent. “Why don’t you find out?”
For a moment, Agatha let herself stay there, caught in the weight of Rio’s attention, feeling the tension wrap around her like a net, each heartbeat pulling her in deeper. She felt the faintest urge to lean in, to see what would happen if she let her defenses slip, if she allowed herself one moment of indulgence.
But then, just as quickly, she snapped back, straightening in her seat, her expression hardening. “I’ll pass,” she said, her voice sharp, dismissive, though she felt her pulse hammering against her throat.
Rio’s gaze flickered with something almost amused, like she saw right through the deflection, right through the calm, unaffected mask. “Are you sure?” she murmured, leaning in, her voice a quiet, dangerous whisper. “Because it doesn’t look like you want me to leave.”
Agatha clenched her jaw, heat rising to her cheeks as she forced herself to meet Rio’s gaze, unflinching. “You’re more persistent than I expected,” she replied, her voice steady, cold, though she knew the words rang hollow.
“Funny,” Rio replied, her tone maddeningly calm. “I was about to say the same thing about you.”
Agatha’s fingers curled tighter around her book, her pulse quickening as Rio’s gaze held hers, refusing to let go. She wanted to look away, to shrug off the weight of Rio’s attention, but her eyes stayed locked, her resolve slipping, just a fraction.
“You think you know me, Vidal?” she said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, a hint of challenge threading through her tone.
Rio’s smirk widened, her eyes glinting with amusement. “I don’t think I do,” she replied, her voice low, “but I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
The words hung between them, heavy, charged, each syllable sinking under Agatha’s skin and twisting something inside her she wasn’t ready to face. She could feel her control slipping, the careful, calculated mask she wore around people thinning with every second that passed in Rio’s presence.
And she hated it.
“Is this what you do?” she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. “Throw out lines, act like you’re interested, and wait to see who falls for it?”
Rio didn’t flinch. Instead, her gaze softened, her eyes lingering on Agatha’s, and for a moment, Agatha felt a flicker of vulnerability, a crack in the cool, collected facade Rio usually wore.
“Maybe with other people,” Rio replied softly, her voice carrying an edge of something real, something raw. “But you’re not other people.”
The sincerity in her tone threw Agatha off balance, her heart stumbling in her chest as she searched Rio’s face, half-expecting to find a glimmer of deceit. But there was none—only that steady, unflinching gaze that seemed to strip her bare, peeling back the layers she so carefully kept hidden.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Agatha whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them, tinged with a vulnerability she hadn’t meant to reveal.
Rio’s gaze didn’t waver, her expression softening just a bit as she took in Agatha’s reaction, her own eyes dark and unreadable. “Then maybe it’s time I change that.”
The words sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine, and she clenched her jaw, fighting to keep the heat from rising to her cheeks. This was exactly what she didn’t want, exactly what she’d been trying to avoid—and yet, here she was, pulse racing, mind spinning, caught up in the magnetic pull of Rio Vidal and unable to break free.
Agatha narrowed her eyes, her tone cutting as she held Rio’s gaze. “You really think you’re going to charm me into whatever little game you’re playing?”
Rio’s smirk widened, her gaze glinting with that infuriating mix of mischief and confidence. She leaned in, her eyes flicking over Agatha’s face, taking her in slowly, as though savoring the challenge. “Who says it’s a game?” she murmured, her voice low, soft, a barely-there brush against the edge of Agatha’s resolve.
Agatha’s breath hitched, just for a fraction of a second, before she could steady herself. She hated how Rio could slip under her skin, how her words and her gaze could leave her feeling exposed. But something in her refused to step back, refused to let Rio think she’d gained the upper hand so easily.
She tilted her head, letting a faint smile curve her lips, her gaze softening as she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a murmur that matched Rio’s. “Oh, so you’re serious?” Agatha’s voice was smooth, almost a purr, her fingers reaching out to brush lightly along Rio’s hand, a fleeting touch that sent a spark through the air between them. “Then maybe you’d better prove it.”
Rio’s eyes lit up, her smirk slipping into something softer, something real, as Agatha’s hand lingered against hers. She watched Agatha’s expression, noting the way her gaze softened, the way her fingers curled just slightly around her own, and for a brief, perfect moment, Rio thought she’d broken through.
“You know,” Rio murmured, her voice softening, a warmth creeping into her expression that she couldn’t quite hide, “I think you might like this as much as I do.” Her fingers tightened around Agatha’s, her gaze unyielding, as though she were savoring every second of the moment, every small reaction Agatha gave her.
Agatha leaned in closer, their faces barely inches apart, her gaze flicking to Rio’s mouth before sliding back up to her eyes, and she let her hand linger in Rio’s grip for just a beat longer. She could see the faint flush on Rio’s cheeks, the faint spark of triumph in her gaze, and something inside Agatha twisted, thrilled at the idea of pulling her in, just to knock her back.
“Oh, Rio,” she murmured, her voice a soft, almost affectionate sigh. She let the moment stretch, her fingers grazing Rio’s hand, feeling the steady warmth of her touch. She watched Rio’s lips part, watched her expression flicker with the beginnings of a smile.
And then, with a flick of her wrist, Agatha pulled her hand free, dropping it back to her side, her smirk hardening as she leaned back in her seat. “Please,” she scoffed, her tone sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade. “As if I’d be interested in someone who thinks they’re irresistible.”
Rio’s face faltered, her expression slipping from that faint, vulnerable hope to a stunned realization, the flush deepening in her cheeks as she straightened. She blinked, recovering quickly, but Agatha didn’t miss the flash of frustration in her gaze, the brief moment where Rio realized she’d been played.
Agatha arched an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest as she let her gaze drift dismissively back to her book. “What’s the matter, Vidal?” she asked, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Did you really think you’d already won?”
Rio’s smirk returned, though there was a tightness around her eyes, a glint that spoke of a bruised ego she’d never admit to. She leaned back, slipping her bag over her shoulder with an easy grace, her gaze locking onto Agatha’s, unyielding. “You play a dangerous game, Harkness,” she murmured, her voice low, carrying an edge that sent a thrill down Agatha’s spine despite herself.
Agatha lifted her chin, her own smirk widening. “Then I suppose you’d better keep up.”
Rio’s eyes narrowed, but her expression shifted, a renewed gleam of determination sparking in her gaze. She leaned down, her face just close enough that Agatha could feel her breath, a whisper against her cheek, soft and teasing. “Let me know when you change your mind.”
And then, just as quickly as she’d appeared, Rio turned and strode out of the café, her footsteps steady, unhurried, as if she hadn’t just been bested. But Agatha could tell—there was a tightness in her stance, a tension in her shoulders that betrayed her frustration.
As Rio disappeared from view, Agatha felt a pulse of satisfaction, a rush of triumph that left her breathless. But beneath that victory, beneath the amusement, something else lingered, something she wasn’t ready to name—a spark that flared to life and left her wondering if this game, this push and pull, was only just beginning.