His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
Hood flipped up, I slump into my usual spot at the back of the old classroom, a strategic choice for observation and, admittedly, the occasional nap. Out comes the arsenal: a notebook, a red pen, and a black pen. I click the black one on repeat as the room steadily fills with the buzz of students.
There's always a hangover after Fall Reading Week at GoldwenU. We all feel it.
My hangover just happens to be much, much worse. A Camila Delgado Hangover.
She's busy. I miss her.
Hell, even Fox ran into her a few days ago. But me? No such luck.
Dr. Jones, a beacon of knowledge in a tweed jacket and fedora, makes his way to the front, scratching the dark skin of his jaw. I straighten up slightly, a reflex.
The classroom door splinters open again, admitting a few latecomers—or rather, an intruder in the form of Camila. She's maneuvering behind a group of guys, shrouded in a dark hoodie, the hood up. Sneaking.
What the hell?
She makes her way up to me, a shadow. "Didn't peg you as a back corner kid," she says, voice muffled under the hood. "I totally am."
My smile is dazed. "Hey, Rocky."
As she attempts to slide into the seat next to me, she stumbles, curses softly, then winces as she settles. I raise a brow, amused and somewhat concerned. She catches my eye, pulling the hood further down to hide.
I can't believe she's here.
Then, her tone shifts, hesitancy creeping in as she looks at me. "Haven't seen you in three days," she says, eyes darting away before locking back onto mine. "Fox mentioned this is your last class today, and I just..." She trails off, biting her lip.
"What?" I prompt, leaning closer.
She sighs, shaking her head. "Nothing. Oh, I had a Kick drink. And Fox told me to water it down. I dumped out a whole third." She pouts, and it's ridiculously cute. I can't help but smile, pride swelling. "But I needed the other two thirds," she adds.
She shifts in her seat, getting more comfortable. "I wanted to see why you like studying history so much. So, I'm here to learn."
I glance around, aware of the class filling up, the buzz of pre-lecture chatter dimming. This is risky. Dr. Jones, with his keen eyes and sharper mind, is not one to miss much.
"Should I go?" Cam whispers, uncertainty lacing her words. "I don't want to get you in trouble."
The thought of her leaving tightens something in my chest. "Stay," I say, quicker than I'd intended. The thrill of possibly getting caught for this, for her, makes every risk worth taking. She's here for me, to understand a part of my world. How could I not want her to stay?
