Can you ever just be Whelmed?

Agatha prided herself on her routine. Certain spots on campus, certain times of day, certain people to avoid. It kept her life predictable, controlled, and quiet. She knew exactly where to walk, how to sidestep anyone lingering in her path, how to blend into the background as much as she wanted. But lately, her carefully curated world had been disrupted. Because no matter where she went, Rio Vidal seemed to find her.

It had started innocently enough. Agatha had been sitting on a bench by the main quad, a spot shaded by sprawling oaks, where she could read between classes without interruption. Her mind was fully absorbed in the dense text, the world around her fading into a gentle murmur. But then, she felt it—a prickle of awareness at the edge of her senses, a sensation that had become unnervingly familiar. Someone was watching her. She looked up, and there she was.

Rio stood a few feet away, hands tucked casually into her pockets, her leather jacket catching the light. That smirk—a mix of arrogance and amusement—played on her lips as she met Agatha’s gaze, her eyes flickering with that unmistakable glint of challenge. Agatha’s pulse quickened, but she fought to keep her expression calm, unaffected, even as Rio strolled closer, her movements deliberate, almost leisurely, like she had all the time in the world.

“Studious as ever, Miss Harkness,” Rio drawled, her voice low, carrying that infuriatingly familiar note of teasing that seemed to slip effortlessly under Agatha’s skin.

Agatha’s eyes flicked back to her book, her tone ice-cold. “And persistent as ever, Vidal. Do you bother every girl with a library card, or is this some special form of torture you’ve designed just for me?”

Rio chuckled softly, undeterred. “Just you,” she replied, lowering herself onto the bench beside Agatha with the audacity of someone who owned the entire quad. Their knees nearly brushed, but Agatha didn’t shift, holding her ground like it was a battle she refused to lose.

She didn’t look up, her fingers gripping her book just a little too tightly. “Fantastic. If I ever need an award-winning lesson in how not to take a hint, I’ll be sure to consult you.”

Rio leaned back slightly, her smirk unwavering as her dark eyes studied Agatha’s profile. “You’re quick. I like that.” She tilted her head, voice lowering to a playful murmur. “Makes me wonder what else you’re good at.”

Agatha finally snapped the book shut, the sound sharp in the quiet air. She turned to Rio, her expression a mixture of irritation and disbelief. “Are you under the impression that this is charming? Because I can assure you, it’s not.”

“Maybe not yet,” Rio replied with calm, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “But give it time. I grow on people.”

“Like mold?” Agatha shot back, her tone dry as bone. “Lovely. Can’t wait.”

Rio’s grin widened, and she leaned in just slightly, enough to make Agatha’s pulse skip in annoyance—or something far more irritating. “You say that, Harkness, but your eyes tell a different story,” Rio said softly, as if she’d uncovered some great secret. “You’re not as immune to me as you’d like to think.”

Agatha arched a brow, folding her arms tightly over her chest. “And yours tell me you’re terrible at reading people. You’re mistaking my lack of interest for something else entirely, Vidal. But I’ll give you points for persistence.”

“Persistence is a virtue,” Rio said easily, as though Agatha’s barbed words only amused her. Her smirk softened, her gaze never wavering. “And I have a feeling it’s going to pay off.”

Agatha scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Your ego is almost impressive. Almost. Do you carry it everywhere, or is this just a special display for me?”

Rio chuckled, leaning back casually as if she hadn’t just been insulted. “You make it sound like I have to try hard. Honestly, Harkness, you’re making this way too fun.”

“Fun,” Agatha echoed flatly, narrowing her eyes. “You think this is fun?”

“Absolutely,” Rio said with a grin, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re… unpredictable. Keeps me on my toes.”

Agatha let out a humorless laugh, rolling her eyes. “Great. I’ll be sure to add ‘unpaid entertainment’ to my resume.”

For a moment, Rio didn’t reply. She just looked at Agatha, her gaze steady, unblinking, as if she were searching for something beneath the sharp sarcasm. Agatha felt her pulse quicken, hated the way Rio’s silence unnerved her far more than her teasing ever could.

Finally, Rio tilted her head, her voice dropping to a softer, almost serious tone. “You know, you’re a lot more fun when you let your guard down.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, heat rising to her cheeks. She leaned forward, her expression cold, her tone cutting. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you don’t speak. See how we both have room for improvement?”

Rio’s smirk widened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something softer in her gaze—something almost fond, like she thought Agatha’s defiance was cute. “Duly noted,” she murmured, standing slowly and brushing off her jacket.

“Good,” Agatha replied, her words clipped, determined to have the last word. “Now go bother someone else.”

But Rio didn’t move immediately. She stayed there for just a second longer, her gaze lingering on Agatha’s face with that infuriating mix of amusement and curiosity. And then, with a slow, deliberate smile, she stepped back, her tone low as she said, “See you around, Harkness.”

Agatha watched her retreating figure, her jaw tightening as her pulse refused to settle. She hated the way Rio’s smirk lingered in her thoughts, hated that she couldn’t stop replaying every second of their conversation.

And as much as she wanted to tell herself she’d won this round, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rio Vidal had just made herself an unrelenting presence in her life.

Agatha had just exited her last class of the day when she spotted Rio lounging against a pillar in the courtyard, her arms folded loosely, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at her lips. The sun caught the edges of her leather jacket, and Agatha's stomach twisted—though she told herself it was irritation and nothing else.

Agatha slowed her pace for only a moment before forcing herself to straighten her shoulders. She refused to let Rio think her presence did anything more than mildly inconvenience her. “You’ve really made loitering into an art form, haven’t you?” she called out, her voice smooth, dismissive.

Rio’s eyes flicked up, a glint of humor breaking through her otherwise serene expression. “Takes practice,” she replied, pushing off the pillar with an easy grace. “But I’m pretty good at most things when I set my mind to them.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, her stride deliberate and unhurried as she closed the distance between them. “If this is your idea of charm, you’re wasting your time.”

Rio shrugged, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe,” she admitted, a sly smile curling her lips. “But I’m having fun.”

Agatha stopped a few feet away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She kept her gaze sharp, daring Rio to meet it. “Believe it or not, Vidal, this isn’t a game. You can’t just…show up, smirk a few times, and expect me to swoon like some lovesick idiot.”

“I don’t expect that,” Rio said lightly, her expression softening in a way that made Agatha’s pulse quicken despite herself. “You’re not a lovesick idiot, Agatha. You’re more…interesting than that.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, though she quickly masked it with a scoff. “Interesting,” she repeated, the word falling flat and uninviting from her lips. “What an absolutely thrilling compliment.”

Rio stepped closer, her movements deliberate, her dark eyes fixed on Agatha’s as though nothing else in the courtyard existed. “It’s the truth,” she said quietly, her voice lower now, carrying the faintest edge of sincerity that made Agatha’s stomach tighten. “You make people work to understand you. I like that.”

Agatha’s heart raced, but she refused to let her composure falter. “I don’t make people do anything, Vidal. They either figure it out, or they don’t. And I couldn’t care less either way.”

Rio tilted her head, the smirk returning but tempered with something more thoughtful, something irritatingly steady. “You say that,” she murmured, “but I don’t think you mean it.”

Agatha clenched her jaw, the words scraping against her defenses in a way that felt too close, too real. “And what would you know about it?” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “You don’t know me.”

Rio didn’t flinch. She took another step closer, the space between them narrowing, the air feeling heavier with every inch. “Not yet,” she admitted, her tone maddeningly calm. “But I’m working on it.”

Agatha’s cheeks burned, and her fingers curled into fists at her sides as she tried to steady her breath. “You’re wasting your time.”

Rio smiled faintly, that damnable confidence unwavering. “You keep saying that,” she replied softly, “but you haven’t walked away yet.”

Agatha opened her mouth to retort, to tell her off, to do anything that would push her away. But the words caught in her throat, tangled in the weight of Rio’s gaze, the warmth of her voice curling around her like a net. For the first time, she found herself unsure what to say, unsure how to regain control.

Rio seemed to sense it, her smirk softening into something more amused than arrogant. “I’m not as easy to shake off as you think, Harkness,” she said, her voice light but carrying a quiet certainty that made Agatha’s chest tighten.

Agatha took a step back, her spine rigid, her voice clipped. “And I’m not as interested as you seem to think I am.”

Rio didn’t move, her dark eyes holding Agatha’s with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “We’ll see,” she murmured, her tone light but laced with a challenge that made Agatha’s pulse stutter.

And then, just like that, Rio stepped back, her smirk soft and lingering as she turned and walked away, her hands tucked casually in her pockets. Agatha stood there, her arms still crossed, her jaw tight, her thoughts a chaotic mess of anger, irritation, and something she refused to name.

As Rio disappeared into the distance, Agatha exhaled sharply, as if she’d been holding her breath the entire time. She told herself she was annoyed, nothing more. And yet, she couldn’t ignore the faint ache in her chest, the infuriating memory of Rio’s gaze, her voice, the way she moved like she had all the time in the world.

Agatha turned sharply, stalking off in the opposite direction, telling herself she’d won this round. But no matter how far she walked, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Rio Vidal had left her mark once again.

The campus café was a cacophony of clattering mugs and murmured conversations. Agatha stood in line, arms crossed, her book tucked under one elbow. She was clearly out of place in the warmth of the bustling room, her sharp gaze flicking over the overly bright smiles of the baristas and the crowd of students pretending they weren’t just there for Instagram-worthy photos.

When it was finally her turn, the barista looked flustered, fumbling with the register as he struggled to clear the order ahead of hers. Agatha tapped her fingers against the counter, her impatience palpable.

“Ready?” the barista asked, glancing up nervously, his hands trembling as he tried to key in her order.

“Obviously,” Agatha replied crisply. “Small black coffee. No room, no frills. And if you could manage not to spill it, that would be a delightful bonus.”

The barista blinked, his cheeks flushing, but before he could stammer out a response, Agatha dug into her bag, pulled out a handful of bills, and tossed them into the tip jar. The gesture was casual, almost dismissive, but the bills fluttered down like a quiet rebuttal to her own sharp tone.

She caught the barista’s startled glance and arched an eyebrow. “Service workers deserve respect,” she said flatly, her voice quieter now but still cutting. “Even the ones who can’t count change without sweating.”

The barista swallowed hard, giving her a weak nod before turning to fill her order.

Agatha sighed, stepping to the side to wait for her drink. Her eyes flicked toward a group of students nearby, two girls laughing over their phones while a third boy—probably their “leader,” she thought dryly—swaggered up to the counter, loud enough to be noticed. She felt her lip curl at the manufactured charm of his voice, the way he leaned on the counter like he owned it. She didn’t notice him look her way until he was suddenly at her side.

“Let me guess—something bitter to match the vibe?” he asked, grinning at her like they were already old friends.

Agatha gave him a slow, unimpressed once-over, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. “Let me guess,” she replied, her tone razor-sharp. “You thought that line would make me forget you smell like Axe body spray and desperation.”

His grin faltered, but he quickly recovered, brushing it off with a chuckle. “Hey, just trying to brighten your day. Maybe even cover your coffee.”

Agatha turned fully toward him, her gaze icy. “How charitable,” she said, her voice like steel. “Tell me, do you also donate to tax-deductible causes, or am I just a special case?”

The boy blinked, clearly unsure if he’d been insulted or not. “Uh—”

“I don’t need you to buy my coffee,” she cut in smoothly. “And next time, try charming someone who hasn’t figured you out before you opened your mouth.”

The barista appeared at that moment, saving him further embarrassment as he handed Agatha her coffee with a shaky smile. She muttered a clipped “thanks” before turning on her heel and making a beeline for the door.

She barely had time to take a sip before she spotted her.

Rio Vidal stood across the quad, arms crossed casually, her weight leaned against one hip, exuding the same unbothered confidence that set her apart from everyone else. Her dark eyes gleamed as they locked onto Agatha’s, a slow smile tugging at her lips like she’d been waiting for this exact moment.

Agatha’s pulse quickened, irritation flaring as she realized she was trapped—she’d have to pass by Rio to get to her next class. Her grip on her coffee tightened as she steeled herself, determined to keep her expression neutral.

Rio didn’t move as Agatha approached, her gaze dropping briefly to the coffee cup before flicking back up to meet Agatha’s. “Didn’t take you for a coffee person,” Rio said, her tone light, teasing.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, taking a deliberate sip before answering. “And I didn’t take you for someone who cared.”

Rio chuckled softly, completely unfazed. “Maybe I just like knowing the little things.”

Agatha’s breath hitched slightly, her pulse skipping as Rio’s words landed with an intimacy that felt unearned but disturbingly effective. She glanced around, half-hoping for an escape route, but the courtyard felt too open, too exposed. “If you’re so interested,” she said, her tone sharp enough to cut, “why don’t you try asking a real question?”

Rio tilted her head, studying her with a quiet intensity that made Agatha’s skin prickle. “Alright, then,” she said softly. “Why do you act like you don’t care?”

The question hit harder than Agatha expected, her chest tightening as the words hung in the air between them. Her grip on the coffee cup tightened, and she forced herself to meet Rio’s gaze with a hard glare. “It’s not an act,” she said, her voice cold, firm. “I don’t care.”

For a moment, Rio didn’t respond. She just looked at her, that exasperatingly attractive smirk softening, her dark eyes flickering with something Agatha couldn’t name. And then she smiled again—smaller this time, quieter, almost...fond. “You’re a terrible liar,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

Agatha stiffened, heat rushing to her cheeks. “And you’re delusional if you think you have any idea who I am,” she snapped, her words like a shield she’d learned to wield too well. “Whatever game you’re playing, Vidal, find someone else to play it with.”

Rio stayed silent, letting the words hang between them as if weighing them. Then, slowly, she tilted her head, her smirk returning but with less arrogance, more patience. “Who says it’s a game?” she murmured.

Agatha’s jaw tightened, her pulse racing. “It’s always a game with people like you,” she shot back, her voice sharper now. “You think you can flash a smile, toss out a few lines, and everyone will fall at your feet. But not me.”

For a moment, Rio didn’t respond. She just stood there, her gaze steady, her smirk fading into something more thoughtful, something Agatha couldn’t quite place. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding, and for a second, Agatha thought she might have actually gotten through to her.

But then Rio’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with quiet determination. “You’re right,” she said softly, her tone low, almost intimate. “You’re not like everyone else.”

Agatha clenched her fists at her sides, her pulse racing as Rio’s words sank in, as if they carried more weight than she was willing to admit. “And that’s exactly why you should stay away,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability threading through it making her hate herself a little.

Rio tilted her head, her smile softening. “Or maybe it’s why I shouldn’t.”

Agatha’s breath caught, her composure wavering for a split second before she snapped back, her expression hardening. “You don’t know anything about me,” she said, her tone sharp, final. “So stop pretending like you do.”

Rio’s eyes lingered on her, studying her face with a quiet intensity that made Agatha’s skin prickle. And then, slowly, she nodded, as if conceding—for now. “Alright,” she said simply, stepping back, her tone light again. “But I think you’re wrong, Harkness.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, refusing to let her guard slip even as Rio turned and strolled away, her movements deliberate, unhurried. She watched her go, her chest heaving with the effort it took to stay composed, to keep every crack in her armor from showing.

And when Rio disappeared around the corner, Agatha exhaled sharply, forcing herself to ignore the way her pulse still raced, the way her mind replayed Rio’s words like they meant something.

Because they didn’t. They couldn’t.