His gravelly voice stops me cold, and my stomach drops straight through the floor.
I scowl, debating whether I should pretend not to hear him and just keep walking. But I already knew this moment was inevitable. I turn around slowly, trying not to let the panic show on my face.
The classroom empties, the door clicking shut behind the last student. It’s just us now, and I’m caught standing under the heat of his gaze like I’m in the spotlight.
“Yes?” I manage, my voice tight.
“A couple of things,” he says, leaning back in his chair like this is totally normal. Like I didn’t have my hands all over him, his body pressed against mine. Like I didn’t whisper somethingborderline embarrassing in his ear about him smelling like cinnamon whiskey.
He’s acting like none of it happened. And maybe that’s the worst part.
“First, your rendition of me… quite the masterpiece, I must say.”
He smirks.
Smirks.
My cheeks blaze with heat and my lungs forget how to function.
“I almost made a copy to hang in my office.”
He says it like it’s casual, but that smirk? It’s the same one he had when he called me “beautiful” at the bar, right before spinning me like we were in a romance movie. I laughed at the time, but now I want to crawl under my desk and die.
“Second,” he continues, “it didn’t fit the requirements of the assignment. Not even close. But I’ll admit, you’ve got serious talent. Pulling that off with just a pencil in under an hour? Impressive.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. Like this whole situation is no big deal.
“So I won’t punish you this time. I’ll let you off with a warning.”
My heart is doing somersaults in my chest. I swear I see something in his eyes, a flicker of emotion. A crack in his facade.
Or maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe it’s just what I want to see.
Either way, I’m not about to let him hold all the cards. If he’s pretending like nothing happened, fine. I can pretend too. Two can play this game.
“Well, I appreciate the compliment,” I say sweetly, forcing a grin onto my face. “If you did make a copy, I hope you frame it. Or at least get it laminated.”
I tilt my head slightly, watching him. Testing him.
His expression shifts, his stare sharpening for a split second. His posture tenses, jaw clenching tight. He’s trying to stay composed, but I can see it. I feel the tension underneath his calm facade.
He clears his throat.
“Well, Miss Sophie,” he says, his voice suddenly clipped with an edge. “I think we’re done here.”
And just like that, the wall between us slams back into place.
“Enjoy the rest of your day.”
He turns back to his computer, his tone final like he’s just slammed a door shut in my face.
I stand there for a second longer, my pulse pounding and my mind blank. I want to say something clever or witty, but nothing comes. So I just turn and walk toward the door, swaying my hips just a little more than usual.
And yes, I hope he watches me leave.
The next two classes drag.Not only are they boring me to tears, but I feel numb. By the time lunch hits, I’m starving and restless and basically vibrating out of my own skin. I can’t focus, I can’t sit still. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath all morning, and I’m scared that if I let it out, I’ll say something that I shouldn’t.
I spot Sal by the lockers and latch onto her like a lifeline, tugging her arm and steering us straight past the cafeteria.
