His eyes flick to mine.
“…kissing,” I finish, barely above a whisper.
The air between us pulls tight.
I immediately take a huge bite of my muffin. Mostly to shut myself up. If I’m eating, I can’t talk.
Alfie takes a slow sip of his coffee. Unbothered.
Except for the way his fingers tap once against his cup.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” His voice is low, smooth, infuriatingly amused.
I pause mid-chew. “Excuse me?”
He tilts his head. “Because if I remember correctly, you were practicallymouth fucking me.”
I nearly choke.
I manage to swallow, my face burning nuclear hot. “Excuse me! You’re the one who hadmepressed against the display case trying to tongue-fuckmy—” I clap my hand over my mouth, horrified, as several students turn at the only other occupied tables.
He lifts a single eyebrow. “And?”
“And you started it!” I whisper, loud enough to reach only his ears. “You pulled me into that hallway like some sexy science nerd?—”
“Sexy science nerd?”
I wave my hands aggressively. “Not the point!”
His lips twitch. Like he’s fighting a smirk.
Oh my god.
He’s enjoying this.
I stab my muffin with unnecessary force.
“Anyway”—I huff, regaining control—“the point is, we’re taking the fall for Ethan’s fire experiment, just because the only working security camera caught us engaging in… extracurricular studies.”
He takes another sip of coffee.
Doesn’t react.
Doesn’t deny it.
I narrow my eyes. “Nothing to say?”
Slowly, he leans forward, forearms braced on the table, voice dropping to that low, measured tone that should not make my stomach flip.
“Tara.”
I swallow. “Yeah?”
A pause.
Then, a smirk so subtle, so infuriating, it should be illegal.
“You’ve got muffin crumbs on your face.”
