Judas didn't know how long they'd been studying.
The sun started to set through his window. He winced as his hand cramped from writing notes he'd probably never read again.
He glanced over, irritated to see Amelia Hart sitting on his couch.
Seriously, why is my couch a chick magnet?
She was only a few feet in front of him as he rested on a chair. They were close enough that their knees occasionally brushed, her notebook open across her lap while she explained functions in a way that seemed almost passionate.
"You're not even listening," she said, glancing at him.
"I am."
"Then what did I just say?"
Judas opened his mouth. Closed it. "...something about the X value?"
She sighed, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. "You're hopeless."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
Amelia shook her head, golden curls bouncing, and went back to the problem. She tapped her pen against the page twice—thinking, or trying to.
But her eyes would drift to the side. Her shoulders tensed.
"You okay?" he asked finally.
She blinked. "What?"
"You keep spacing out."
"I'm fine." Her voice was calm and controlled. The same tone she used when giving presentations or shutting down guys who asked for her number. But her hand gripped her notebook tighter.
Judas frowned. "You sure?"
Amelia set the pen down. Looked at him for a moment. She seemed to be deciding something—Weighing whether the risk was worth it.
Then she exhaled.
"Do you know what it's like," she said quietly, "to have everyone expect perfection from you all the time?"
The question hit him sideways.
"I—what?"
"Every day." Her voice was softer. "I wake up and I have to be her. The girl who has it all together. The one who never makes mistakes. Never shows weakness. Never..." She trailed off, staring at the notebook. "...never just exists."
Judas didn't know what to say, so he just listened.
"Yesterday, when Tyson cornered me, I was terrified." Her voice cracked slightly. "But I couldn't show it. Because if I show fear, the image breaks. And if the image breaks..." She looked at him, and her eyes were glassy. "...then what am I?"
His throat tightened.
"You're Amelia," he said simply. "A classmate. Labels are one thing, but we're all just trying to figure things out in our own ways."
She stared at him like he'd just said something world-shattering.
"No one calls me that," she whispered. "Everyone calls me Hart. Or Miss Hart. Or just... doesn't talk to me at all."
"That's stupid."
She laughed out of character. "Maybe. But it's been like this for so long, I forgot there was a difference." Her voice was warmer than he'd ever heard it.
[AMELIA HART – AFFECTION: 35% → 42%]
Behind the kitchen counter, crouched in the shadows like a feral cat watching prey, Sera's eyes narrowed.
Her fingers dug into her palms.
Amelia scooted a bit closer to the edge of the couch, and this time it wasn't subtle.
Her knee pressed fully against his. When she leaned forward to point at something in his notebook, the movement pulled her cropped hoodie up, exposing the curve of her lower back, the gentle dip of her spine, a glimpse of lace above her waist.
Judas's eyes dropped. He couldn't help it.
"This part here," Amelia said, her voice catching slightly. She traced the equation with one finger, but Judas wasn't looking at the math anymore.
He was looking at the way her hair rested on her shoulders. The exposed curve of her neck. The way her lips parted when she concentrated. The rise and fall of her chest, the fabric stretching—
"Judas?"
Their eyes met.
She knew. Knew exactly where he'd been looking.
The blush spread across her cheeks fast, but she didn't pull away or snap at him.
Biting her lower lip, she leaned even closer.
"I..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I don't do this. I don't let people in. But you..." Her hand trembled as it moved from the notebook to rest on his leg. "You make me want to try."
Her fingers slid up his thigh making every nerve ending in his body light up like a slot machine hitting jackpot.
[WARNING: AFFECTION THRESHOLD APPROACHING]
[CURRENT: 42% → 48%]
"Amelia..." Judas's voice came out rough.
She moved again dropping from the couch in one smooth motion that put her knees on either side of his hips. Settled into his lap with a soft gasp that short-circuited his brain completely.
Her thighs pressed against his as he felt her body heat through fabric.
"Is this—" She swallowed, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "Is this, okay?"
Okay?
The untouchable goddess of UNLV was in his lap, looking at him like he was the only person in the world who mattered.
"Yeah." He barely recognized his own voice. "It's... yeah."
Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. "I need you to understand something." Her voice cracked. "I've spent my entire life being looked at. But no one's ever actually seen me. Not until you."
Her hand slid from his shoulder to his chest, right over his hammering heart.
"You see me. The real me. And that's terrifying and wonderful and I just don't know what to do with it."
His hands found her waist without thinking. The hoodie had ridden up even more and his palms found bare skin--impossibly soft.
Amelia's breath caught, but again, she didn't pull away.
"You don't have to do anything," Judas said quietly. His fingers flexed against her waist. "You're enough."
Her eyes glistened as they met his. "No one's ever said that to me before."
"Then everyone else is an idiot."
She laughed softly with a genuine smile. Her hips shifted slightly as Judas tightened his grip involuntarily.
She felt it. Felt exactly what she was doing to him. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating, and a shaky breath escaped her lips.
"Judas..."
"Amelia—"
She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. "I've never felt like this before. Like I'm going to lose my mind if I don't—"
She kissed him instead of finishing.
Hard and desperate, like she'd been holding back for years, and someone finally gave her permission to let go.
Every thought evaporated in the heat of her mouth against his. She tasted like cherry lip gloss, her lips soft and insistent, leaving no room for rationality. Her hands slid from his shoulders into his hair, nails scraping his scalp in a way that pulled the air from his lungs.
She swallowed the sound, kissing him harder.
Her body pressed flush against him, chest to chest, her breathing ragged between kisses. The kiss deepened. Turned hungry. Amelia's tongue traced his bottom lip, and when his mouth opened in surprise, she didn't hesitate, devouring him.
Her hips rolled—instinct without thought—and Judas's hands slid to grip her hips tight enough to bruise. Amelia made a sound between a gasp and a moan that destroyed what was left of his self-control.
"Judas—" She broke away just enough to breathe, "I—we shouldn't—"
But even as she said it, she was leaning back in.
Kissing him again.
Her hands slid down his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. When she finally pulled away again, she was trembling. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered against his lips. "I never—I don't—"
"Breathe," Judas managed, voice wrecked. "Just breathe."
She did.
One shaky breath.
Then another. Her forehead rested against his, golden curls falling like a curtain around them, creating a world where only they existed.
"You make me feel like I can just... be," she whispered. "It's nice."
His thumb rubbed small circles on her hip, and she shivered.
"I like the real you better anyway," he said.
She laughed breathy and overwhelmed before kissing him again.
This time slower. Deeper. Her lips moved against his like she was memorizing the shape of his mouth, the taste of him, the way he responded when she did that thing with her tongue that made his fingers dig into her hips.
She gasped into his mouth.
Stared at him with wide, glassy eyes.
[AMELIA HART – AFFECTION: 48% → 65%]
[MILESTONE ACHIEVED: FIRST KISS]
[EMOTIONAL BOND: CRITICAL LEVEL]
[WARNING: SUBJECT ATTACHMENT ESCALATING RAPIDLY]
Behind the counter, Sera's nails dug crescents into her palms deep enough to draw blood.
She should look away.
Should give them privacy.
Should—
She watched.
And that weird feeling in her chest got so much worse.
What is this? Why does watching them feel like someone's carving out my insides? Stop it. You're his guide. This is the quest. This is what's supposed to happen. This is GOOD.
But the logic didn't make the feeling go away.
Didn't make it hurt any less.
Amelia jerked back suddenly, gasping for air, eyes wide and horrified.
She stared at Judas like she'd just woken up from a dream and found herself in a nightmare.
"I—" Her voice broke. "I just—oh my god—"
Her hand flew to her mouth, touching her mouth like she couldn't believe what she'd done.
"Amelia—"
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have." She scrambled backward, trying to get off his lap, nearly falling in her panic. "I don't know what I was thinking! I wasn't thinking!"
"Hey, wait—" Judas's hands steadied her, but she flinched away from the contact like it burned.
"I have to go." She grabbed her bag with shaking hands, notebook forgotten on the table, hoodie still ridden up, hair a mess, lipstick smeared. "I have to. I can't—"
"Amelia, stop."
But she was already at the door, tears streaming down her face, looking at him like he'd seen every secret she'd ever kept. Like he'd peeled back the perfect idol mask and found the desperate, lonely girl underneath. And she couldn't handle being that exposed.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice breaking completely. "I'm so sorry."
Then she was gone.
The door slammed shut.
Judas sat alone, lips still tingling, trying to process what just happened.
[AMELIA HART – AFFECTION: 65%]
He stared at the number floating in his vision.
Sixty-five percent.
Like she was a video game character. A conquest. A percentage to max out.
His stomach twisted uncomfortably.
Was any of this real? Did Amelia actually want him, or was the system manipulating her feelings? Making her attracted to him through some cosmic cheat code?
And if it was real—if she genuinely liked him—was it fair to pursue her when he had a literal guide designed to be "exactly what he needs"? When there would be more quests? More targets?
"I'm a piece of shit," he muttered to his empty apartment.
But even as the guilt gnawed at him, another part of his brain whispered: She kissed you. She chose to come here. She chose to open up. The system might have created the opportunity, but her feelings are her own.
Right?
...Right?
He didn't know anymore.
[EMOTIONAL STATE: OVERWHELMED]
[STATUS: FLEEING]
[ANALYSIS: SUBJECT EXPERIENCING VULNERABILITY PANIC]
"...what," Judas said to his empty apartment, "the actual fuck just happened?"
Sera materialized on the opposite end of the couch, arms crossed, expression carefully neutral except for the slight pout tugging at her lips.
"Well," she said, voice light but strained, "that was quite the performance."
Judas turned to look at her, still trying to remember how to breathe normally. "Performance?"
"Mhmm." She examined her nails with exaggerated disinterest. "Very passionate. Very dramatic. Very..." She glanced at him, and something flashed in her eyes before she looked away. "...hands-on."
"Sera—"
"Sixty-five percent," she interrupted, gesturing at the fading notification. "That's excellent progress. Way ahead of schedule. She really went for it." Her smile was too bright.
Judas stared at her.
"Are you... pouting?"
"What? No." She straightened, expression shifting to mock offense. "I don't pout. I'm a professional guide providing professional analysis of your quest progress."
"You're literally pouting right now."
"Am not."
"Your bottom lip is sticking out."
Sera's hand flew to her mouth. "It is not—" She caught herself, then huffed. "Okay, maybe a little. But it's not—I'm not—" She waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine. Everything's fine."
"Is it?"
"Yes." Her voice was firm. Then, quieter, "why wouldn't it be?"
Judas opened his mouth, then closed it.
Sera stood, stretching in a way that seemed too casual. "Anyway, she'll probably text you later. Apologizing. Spiraling. The usual post-vulnerability panic."
"Sera."
"Hmm?"
"You watched the whole thing, didn't you?"
Her shoulders tensed slightly. "I'm your guide. Monitoring quest progress is part of my job."
"That's not what I asked."
She was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I watched."
"And?"
"And what?" She glanced back at him, expression unreadable. "You want me to rate your technique? Give you pointers for next time?"
"I want to know if you're okay."
Sera blinked. Like the question surprised her.
"I'm..." She trailed off, brow furrowing. "I don't know, actually. I feel... weird."
"Weird how?"
"Just weird." She hugged herself slightly, looking genuinely confused. "Like something's off. Like there's this thing in my chest that won't stop." She shook her head. "Never mind. It's probably just system lag or something."
"Sera—"
"It's fine," she said firmly, smile returning, playful but strained. "I'm fine. You're fine. Everything's fine." She angled her head down at him, eyes gleaming with manufactured mischief. "Though I have to say, you never looked at me like that."
Judas felt his face heat. "Like what?"
"Like something you want to devour." Sera's pout returned, more pronounced now. "All desperate hands and hungry kisses. Very protagonist-core. Very hot." She crossed her arms. "I'm just saying, I'm right here and I'm very pretty and you've never once looked like you wanted to—"
She stopped abruptly.
Cleared her throat.
"Anyway." Her voice was too bright again. "Point is, good job. Keep it up. Try not to die before you finish the quest." A purple glow began to overtake her shadow. "I'll leave you to process your... feelings."
"You don't have to go."
"I kind of do." She glanced at the couch where he'd been kissing Amelia, where she'd been grinding against him, where things had gotten way too heated way too fast.
"But," his voice trailed off.
"But what?"
Judas didn't have an answer.
"Never mind," he said finally.
Sera studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
"Yeah," she said softly. "Never mind."
The light intensified.
"Get some rest," she said, voice distant now.
Then she was gone leaving only the scent of vanilla.
Judas sat in the silence of his apartment, fingers unconsciously touching his lips. They still tingled. He could still taste cherry lip gloss. His body still felt the weight of Amelia in his lap, the heat of her body pressed against his, the desperate way she'd kissed him like she was drowning and he was air.
"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered to his empty living room.
No answer came. Just the ticking of his cheap wall clock and the weight of choices he didn't know how to make.
He moved to his bedroom, collapsing onto his bed fully clothed. Stared at the ceiling.
I really need to hit the casino again... This is a lot.
He rolled onto his side, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.
No notifications, like usual.
"This is insane," he said to his ceiling. "I kissed the campus idol. Had her grinding on me like we were in some kind of fever dream."
His body was still humming with leftover adrenaline. Still half-hard from what had happened on that couch. Still replaying the way Amelia had moved, the sounds she'd made, the desperate need in every touch.
The phone buzzed.
He grabbed it so fast he nearly dropped it.
Unknown: This is Amelia. Can we eat lunch together tomorrow?
She knows where I live and... she has my number?
The coincidence sat heavy on his chest.