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“Seriously?!”
Alistair grins. “Solid A, A minus performance.”
Oh. My. Fucking. God. I want to crawl into myself or melt into a puddle and drip through the cracks in the floor.
Alistair saw me naked. Worse, he saw me masturbating.
Just kill me now.
Suddenly I scowl as I yank my gaze back to him.
“I’m sorry, wait, did you say A minus?!”
He grins. Asshole.
“I’m just saying, I could have been more drawn in, as an audience member.”
I groan as I sink down into a ball, burying my face in my jacket. “You are such a dick…”
“Like, I didn’t really get what your motivation was.”
“Please stop talking.”
“And your technique could use some work.”
I lift my face again and glare death at him through the fiery blush spreading across my face. “Excuse me?!”
He just shrugs and leans back against the wall.
Then his phone dies as well.
Shit. Now we’re in absolute darkness.
I gulp, hugging myself again as my pulse quickens.
“You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
We’re both silent another minute.
“My technique,” I mutter. “Does not need work.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Well, that’s settled then.”
I grin. When did this conversation turn into something that feels like flirting?
“You know what, scrap the minus. Solid A performance.”
I roll my eyes, my face still throbbing. “Gee, thanks, professor.”
“I’ll admit, I might have been swayed by your pandering to the judges.”
I sigh heavily. “There weren’t…” I shake my head. “What does that even mean?”
