Chloe didn’t have to turn around to know he was watching her again in that quietly dangerous way of his that makes her think of a black panther.
He is seated a few rows behind Chloe in their Fundamentals of Economics class, but in her mind she can see him as vividly as if he were sitting right beside her. To say he is tall, dark and handsome is equal parts true and a disservice to the cliché. At 6’2″ he is taller than anyone she knows. His skin is the rich, deep tone of dark chocolate and his eyes are an indulgent shade of brown that leave her breathless with every glance. But it is his mouth, with his full, African lips made for kissing, that haunts her daydreams and stars in her fantasies. His bottom lip, tinged with a soft pink, seduces Chloe into quiet fantasies of gently nibbling on it.
Chloe removes her books and stationery from her backpack and resists the temptation to look back at him. Instead, her mind wanders from his lips to his hands. How would they feel on her? Would he touch her gently or handle her roughly? The only answer is both, please and thank you.
Lost in thought, she subconsciously purses her lips that are painted scarlet maroon as her thoughts stray back to his lips. Is he into messy top lip kisses, she wonders. The sterile brightness cast over the lecture hall by the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead is a stark contrast to the carnal thoughts she can’t seem to silence. The buzzing chatter of her classmates echoes around her, a rising tide of excitement that marks the last lecture of the week. Normally, Chloe would be gossiping with Sophia, her seatmate and best friend, but the empty chair beside her is evidence that Sophia is still out sick.
The door swings open and the lecturer enters with a folder in her hand and purpose in her stride. The noise in the room drops to a murmur and as Chloe places her backpack beside her feet, she gives in to temptation and hazards a glance at him over her shoulder. His eyes immediately find hers as if he was telepathically daring Chloe to look at him. They stare at each other for a searing moment, eyes locked in a blistering silence that’s louder than words, before he slowly and deliberately lowers his eyes to her mouth. When he next looks at her, the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable and it sends heat spiralling through Chloe’s core. Being bold in a way she hardly is in real life, Chloe repeats after him and lowers her hazel eyes to his mouth. Thoughts of kissing him immediately consume her and her senses flare with the imagined taste of him. Her intimate imaginings send heat rushing to her cheeks, and in that moment, she is thankful for the melanin that keeps her secrets safe beneath her skin
“Good morning, class,” she calls out. “Let’s pick up where we left off—page fifty-two.”
Chloe starts to open her textbook but a flicker of motion beside her draws her attention. Expecting to see a random classmate taking Sophia’s empty seat, she is stunned to see her black panther sitting next to her, all coiled grace and lethal calm, his eyes ablaze with desire. The silent pull of his gaze casts a spell over Chloe and in an instant the air between them explodes with the sexual tension that has been brewing between them for a month now.
“Who can tell me what opportunity cost is?” the professor asks. “With a real-life example, please.”
It is with Herculean effort that Chloe turns away from him, certain that those are the last words she will retain from the day’s class. All her nerve endings are attuned to the man next to her dressed in all black—black boots, black jeans and a black long-sleeved sweater that emphasises his muscular arms with reckless abandon. He smells like designer cologne, fresh laundry and something darker, something more dangerous. For the next two hours, hands rise and fall around her as students engage with the lecture, but Chloe barely registers any of it. She is drowning in her black panther, her senses of sight and smell drunk on him. Hearing, touch and taste teeming with jealousy.
“Remember to submit your assignments by the end of next week,” the lecturer says, her voice booming over the scrape of chairs as the class ends. “Late submissions will not be accepted.”
Their classmates swarm the door, laughing, chatting and escaping into their weekend plans, but Chloe doesn’t move and neither does he. Only when the classroom has emptied out does he adjust his chair to face her. His mouth is curved into a half-smile and the contrast of fire in his eyes with the casual tilt of his head sparks something primal in Chloe.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly, all her unspoken longings let loose in that one word.
“Hi,” he replies, voice low and decadent.
She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but gets interrupted by her phone vibrating in her backpack. She ignores it without a second thought as, in that moment, there is nothing and no one more important than the man sitting next to her. She has spent the last month recalling things they never did, like sharing meals and inside jokes, exploring their city and each other’s bodies. Yet until now they have never spoken. Not once. But in her head, they have lived a thousand lives, doing all the things that lovers do. They have kissed beneath streetlamps and behind closed doors. He’s whispered things that made her blush and beg. She’s screamed his name in ecstasy, only to whisper sweet words of devotion to him minutes later as they lay between tangled sheets. And just like that, he’s here—no longer a possibility, but a choice. If opportunity knocks only once, she won’t hesitate for a second to fling the door wide open.
Her phone finally stops vibrating but the fragile silence that cloaks the room immediately lifts as it starts vibrating again, signalling an urgency from the caller on the other end of the line. Chloe groans inwardly and fishes out her phone to silence it, but one glance at the screen and her heart sinks.
Sam.
Her on-again-off-again boyfriend. More off than on. They’d been dancing the same doomed dance since high school—passion, resentment, breakup. Rinse, repeat. He’d dumped her after their university acceptances to different schools came through, claiming he needed to “find himself” and didn’t want to be tied down to his high school sweetheart. But a few weeks later he was back, apologising, promising, pleading. She took him back against her better judgment and the advice of her friends.
And now, the man who’s haunted her dreams sits beside her, real and waiting, while Sam’s name blinks on her screen like a dying signal.
“Don’t you want to get that?” he asks, nodding toward her phone, a glint of amusement quietly smouldering in his eyes.
She shakes her head. “It can wait.”
There’s a pause before he leans in slightly, confidence draped over him like a second skin.
“I was hoping we could get lunch at The Plaza,” he says. “I’ve been trying to play it cool, but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I’d do almost anything to get to know you.”
Her breath catches in her throat. When he puts it like that…
“I’d love that,” she says. “But let’s go to Leo’s instead. They’ve got food and happy hour until eight.”
His smile in response glows with the same lustrous intensity as a full moon rising into a sky scattered with stars. She smiles back, feeling the paper-thin tether to Sam stretch and snap quietly inside her. She’d call him later. Or maybe tomorrow. She didn’t need to explain herself—he had done the discarding before. It was her turn now. Sam may not have liked his taste of freedom, but she’s about to find out what it tastes like for herself. No more saving her heart for someone who only wants it when it’s convenient. If her twenties are meant for exploration, then she was done apologising for wanting more.
“Perfect,” he says. “But there’s something important we should do first.”
“Oh?” she asks, cocking her head.
“I’m Marcus,” he says, holding out a hand. “Nice to officially meet you, Chloe.”
Of course he knows her name. The same way she’d known his all along.
As she takes his big hand in her small one, a jolt of electricity snakes its way up her arm, the thrill of finally touching him undeniable. Chloe may not know what the future holds for her and Marcus, but she intends to have a marvellous time finding out.
PS: This story was originally published in Libretto Magazine in August 2025.
Lwile the Leo 