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All of my body is alight under his touch, and I can’t help but think that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“I didn’t say that,” I answer him, and I know he notices that I corrected him on what I said but not on what I want.

I think I just screwed myself over, and I really should tell him that I don’t want him to make a habit out of it, but the words refuse to leave my mouth.

Like I said, I’m screwed.

16

Louis

I’ve been sending her flowers for four weeks now.

I think on the first Saturday, when nothing was delivered to her place, she believed I would stop.

But instead I brought her breakfast, made sure to bring the lime pie she liked the week before and the passion fruit éclair that she ate so fast I barely had time to see her do it.

I brought flowers directly to her class, and I watched her the entirety of the detention morning—making her squirm in the process.

It’s Saturday again, and I didn’t try to steal her keys this time.

But I didn’t come empty-handed either.

Sneaking into the school with flowers has been surprisingly easy. As long as I arrive early and don’t cross paths with the students going to their regular detention, no one is around.

Normally I wouldn’t care. I would just barge in with my flowers, and if anyone is unhappy about it, they can fuck right off.

But I know it would probably make it difficult for Constance, and I don’t want that.

I’m okay with making her blush and teasing her, but my aim isn’t to make her uncomfortable or to put her job in jeopardy.

Which is why I’ve been waiting for almost half an hour next to her classroom door with pastries and flowers again when she shows up.

The first thing she does when she sees me is roll her eyes. It’s supposed to be in exasperation—I think—but she can’t hide her smile at the same time, and I see right through it.

She refuses to admit it, but she likes my attention.

“If you’re trying to make it a habit,” she tells me when she sees the bouquet of pink roses, primroses, and lilies I’ve brought with me today, “that won’t work. You only have one Saturday left after this one to stalk me on the weekend days.”

Fuck. She’s right.

I was getting used to seeing her on Saturday mornings, and I didn’t realize that we were this close to the end of my month and a half of detentions.

“Well, if you want, we can go out for breakfast every Saturday morning after that,” I say with a teasing smile.

I’m teasing her, yes, but some part of me keeps hoping that she’ll finally cave at some point and will agree to meet me outside of school.

No. I’m not hoping. I know it will happen. I just don’t know how long she’ll keep resisting me, how long she’ll keep resisting this thing between us.

The wait is killing me.

“Nice try, but no,” Constance answers me, but I can’t help but see her eyes trailing over my body.

Yes, it’s just a matter of time.

She opens the door, and I follow her into the classroom, but this time, instead of going to my seat at the front of the class, I follow her to her desk.

As she unceremoniously drops her keys on the right side of the desk and her bag on the other side, I come behind her.