Page 62 of Fall Fake-Out

That’s what’s unsettling.

No glaring.

No pouting.

No dramatic reaction to us eating lunch together, which isn’t the reaction I expected. She just watches.

Like she’s waiting to see what Ari and I do next.

And if it were up to Ari, we’d do nothing next.

I glance down at the bag of strawberries she just pulled out alongside a container of fruit dip.

“Feed me a strawberry.”

“I am not feeding you.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s weird.” She gestures around the cafeteria. “I cannot feed you a strawberry and still be a respectable teacher at this school.”

“The irony of you saying that after literally straddling me in front of the marching band is iconic.” She glares back at me, but I don’t even care. We have to get things rolling before lunch is over. I nod toward the fruit. “For maximum effect, I suggest seducing me with one of those things. You do know how to seduce a man, don’t you?”

Her head kicks back. “What? You don’t think I can?”

“I’ve yet to see evidence of those skills from you.”

That competitive spark ignites instantly behind her eyes, just like I knew it would.

Ari was never built to walk away from a challenge.

Especially not one involving her pride.

Around us, students continue eating and talking, but I notice more eyes shifting in our direction. A couple of teachers glance over too. Ari notices it as well. For half a second, I think she’s going to back down. Choose professionalism and caution. Then her gaze flicks toward Ashtyn’s table, and something shifts.

Slowly, she drags a strawberry through the pale-pink fruit dip with entirely too much concentration, like suddenly this is a high-stakes culinary event.

The dip coats the fruit, thick and smooth. I’m still smirking when she lifts the strawberry toward her own mouth instead of mine.

Just enough to lick it.

My smile falters as I watch her tongue sweep over the tip of the strawberry for the smallest taste.

Students are moving around us. Trays clatter. Somebody across the cafeteria yells about tater tots, but I stop hearing it all.

Ari tilts her head slightly, lashes lowering for half a second before she looks back up at me through them. Then the corner of her mouth curves. Not a full smile. Worse.

A knowing one.

“You want a taste?” she asks softly.

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. So I close it again and swallow—hard.

That seems to encourage her.

She leans forward over the cafeteria table, slow enough to make me painfully aware of every inch she moves closer. One elbow rests lightly on the table as she holds the strawberry out between us. But instead of bringing it close enough for me to take a bite, her gaze drops briefly to my mouth then back to my eyes, but the look behind her stare is full of fire.

Sweet mercy.