"The kind that don't involve you," I shoot back, fighting to keep a straight face.
"Ouch, you wound me, babe." He clutches his chest like I just stabbed him, his lips twisting into an over-the-top pout.
"And here I thought we were past the cold shoulders. You said you were giving me another chance."
I bite back a snort, "I didn't say I'd make it easy. Besides..." I turn just enough to look at him. "If I remember right, what I actually said was, 'I can't promise you anything.'"
"Semantics," he grumbles, crossing his arms like a sulky little kid before peeking at me from the corner of his eye.
I'm halfway through pulling out last week's notes when it hits me. "Wait... you haven't even asked about your sister. Don't you want to know if she's still in the dorm?"
Zach just shrugs, lazy grin tugging at his mouth. "I already know where she is."
I arch a brow. "Oh, do you?"
"Mm-hmm." His grin widens like he's letting me in on a secret. "She stayed at the pond last night. In my room. Pretty sure she's planning on moving in permanently at this point."
I snort, shaking my head. "That explains a lot. At this rate, I forget I even have a roommate. Her bed's always empty. I feel like I live alone."
We both smile at that, a quiet moment stretching between us.
Then he cocks his head, eyes gleaming. "You know..." His voice drops low, smooth as velvet. "I could fix that."
"What?"
"I could switch places with Sam." He leans in just a fraction, enough to make my pulse jump. "I can be your roommate."
"What...huh?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His smirk deepens, his voice all teasing warmth. "I'd be the perfect roommate. Quiet. Respectful." His voice dips, lazy and smooth, and his thumb traces the back of my chair like he's imagining it's my skin.
He pauses just long enough to make my breath catch before adding, lower, rougher:
"Well—depends on how respectful you want me to be." His grin curves slow, wicked, his eyes dragging over my face. "I can bevery... hands-on when needed."
The last line lands like a spark, the air between us going hot and charged.
"Hell, I'd even warm your bed for you if you asked... nicely."
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingers just long enough to make my pulse trip. "You'd never have to sleep cold again."
My thoughts scatter instantly, wild and traitorous, sketching a crystal-clear image in my mind: Zach stepping out of my bathroom, hair wet, steam curling around him, water sliding down his chest, a towel hanging low on his hips.
Heat rushes up my neck so fast it makes me dizzy.
My knees press together under the desk, like that'll stop my brain from going places it absolutely should not be going right now.
I tear my gaze back to my notes, gripping my pen so hard it nearly snaps, anything to keep from looking at him again — but he's still there, close enough to feel, that cocky grin telling me he knows exactly what I'm thinking.
"Sugarplum," he drawls, clearly reading every thought on my face. "You're blushing."
"I am not," I snap, but it comes out too soft, too breathless.
The corner of his mouth tilts up, a slow, almost sinful curve that sends a shiver racing down my spine. "You so are. You're thinking about it, aren't you?"
I whip my head toward him, cheeks blazing, ready to deny it—but the professor walks in, clapping her hands for everyone to settle, and just like that — poof — the moment's gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
