The hall was warm — thick with leftover applause and the low hum of conversations from students and faculty still buzzing from the debate. Chairs scraped lightly against the floor, someone laughed near the stage, and yet somehow, in all that noise, Caelis heard nothing but her own pulse hammering in her ears.
She stood near the back, posture perfect, hands calmly folded behind her. On the outside, she was every inch the composed debater, the one professors kept bragging about.
On the inside?
She had—objectively—lost her mind about thirty seconds ago.
Because she saw her.
Astrid Santiago.
She was moving through the crowd with a confidence that didn’t demand attention — it earned it. Not the arrogant kind. Just steady. Self-assured. The kind of grace that told you she knew exactly who she was.
Her lanyard bounced softly with each step. Her long brown hair glinted under the warm hall lights. And her eyes — sharp, warm, too observant for Caelis’ comfort — scanned the room, then locked onto her like a key finally turning in the right lock.
Caelis straightened, pulse kicking.
Astrid smiled, polite but genuine. “Attorney Del Rosario.”
There it was. The voice. Clear, steady. Warm enough to curl around Caelis’ spine.
“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Caelis almost forgot how to breathe.
Almost.
She forced her body into control, offered a poised smile and extended her hand. “Good things, I hope, Doctor Santiago.”
Astrid laughed lightly — and oh, Caelis liked that sound way too much. “Not quite a doctor yet.”
“And I’m not quite an attorney,” Caelis countered, tone playful but refined.
Their hands met.
The world stilled.
Astrid blinked — not out of surprise, but recognition. Like her body registered something before her brain could name it.
Warmth. Familiar. Strange. A spark without the dramatics of thunder and lightning.
Just… real.
Astrid let out the smallest breath, eyes flicking down to their hands before she gently let go.
Get a grip, she scolded herself internally. You are a functioning adult, not a broken Bluetooth device.
“I wanted to say,” Astrid began, smoothing out an imaginary crease on her blouse, “you were incredible during the debate earlier. Your argument was airtight — I was honestly blown away.”
Caelis’ lips tugged upward. 'She noticed.'
“Thank you. I’m glad it landed well,” she replied, voice steady — too steady. Her fingers were still tingling.
Astrid tucked a strand of hair behind her ear again — a habit Caelis was now painfully aware of.
“I actually… had a few questions about some of the points you raised. I wanted to ask them earlier but, well…” She gestured toward the crowd. “Limited time. Plus, you were surrounded by fans.”
“Fans?” Caelis raised an eyebrow. “They were just asking for citations.”
“Citations and selfies,” Astrid teased gently.
Caelis tried (and failed) not to smile too hard at that.
Astrid hesitated — visibly gathering courage.
“Would it be alright if we continued the conversation sometime?” Her voice softened, suddenly careful. “Maybe over coffee? Strictly academic curiosity, of course.”
She said it like a disclaimer on medication:
Side effects may include… attraction.
Caelis pretended to consider it, even though her brain had already done a full victory lap.
“That sounds fair,” she said smoothly, pulling out her phone and handing it over. “Here.”
Astrid typed in her number, then paused — thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a beat too long.
When she handed the phone back, her voice dipped just slightly lower.
“I won’t ask too many questions. Just enough to… make it interesting.”
Caelis let out another one of those low chuckles — the kind that lived in her chest rather than her throat.
Astrid felt it.
Not heard.
Felt.
Right in the ribcage.
They held eye contact — a little too long for two people who just met — and the silence between them grew full, warm, almost pulsing.
Caelis tilted her head. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Astrid exhaled, almost relieved. “Me too.”
But neither of them moved.
Not immediately.
The conversation hovered there, like it was waiting — begging — for one of them to break, to flirt a little too obviously, to tip their professional courtesy into something undeniably charged.
But instead—
“Well,” Astrid said softly, stepping back, “I should go. But… congratulations again. You really were brilliant.”
Caelis gave a small bow of her head, tone soft but deliberate.
“Thank you, Astrid.”
Her name.
The way Caelis said it — slow, like she was tasting each syllable — sent a shiver straight down Astrid’s spine.
“See you soon?” she asked.
Caelis nodded once, face calm.
But the second Astrid turned away, Caelis’ shoulders dropped one full inch and her composure melted like butter under a heat lamp.
She closed her eyes.
Exhaled.
Quietly whispered:
“…Holy shit.”
She hadn’t thought she had a type.
Apparently her type was:
Women who ask her out disguised as academic discussions.
Down the hallway, Astrid walked with her hand over her chest — pressing down as if her heart was trying to escape through her ribs.
That was not just academic admiration, she told herself.
That was… something.
And she wanted more.
Not just of Caelis Del Rosario, the debate champion.
But of the woman underneath the poise.
The one who smiled like she knew more than she said.
The one who made a simple handshake feel like the beginning of something dangerous.
Something promising.
Something she absolutely wanted to feel again.
---
YOU ARE READING
Only When No One's Looking
RomanceThey were always careful. Careful with their words. Careful with their distance. Careful not to let the world notice the way their eyes never quite let go of each other. Behind locked doors, love bloomed in whispers. But love that can only exist in...
