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Matteo doesn’t even flinch. Just tilts his head, grinning like he knows exactly why I’m acting like this.

I hate him.

(We’ve already established that’s a lie.)

“You looked very focused,” he muses, nodding toward my laptop screen. “Writing about my goal?”

I level him with a look.

“You mean the tap-in after arealstriker did all the work?”

His brows shoot up.

“Ouch.”

“Oh, please. You’ll survive.”

Matteo leans in slightly, voice dropping low.

“So, about that date…”

I freeze for half a second before schooling my expression into one of practiced indifference.

“What date?” I ask, keeping my tone flat.

“The one we’re going on.”

I scoff.

“We’ve never talked about going on a date.”

“We’re talking about it now.”

I open my mouth, then close it again, unwilling to let him see even a flicker of surprise - or worse,excitement.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who hasn’t even asked properly,” I point out.

Matteo chuckles, tilting his head.

“Do I need to? You’ll say yes anyway.”

I narrow my eyes.

“You don’t know that.”

He leans in just a fraction more, his breath warm against my ear.

“I do,bella.”

I straighten, brushing him off.

“Shh.”

His grin widens.

“Shh?”

“Yes,shh.” I dart my eyes around the room, paranoid. “I’m working.”