Intoxicating

I Know What Imma Do To You

Leia's POV

Friday night rolled around, and the three of us piled into Courtney's car, heading to our favorite milkshake spot. The air was filled with the kind of carefree chatter only a night out with friends could bring. Zan was still wearing her band hoodie, hair a little mussed from practice, and Courtney was behind the wheel, blasting some old pop hits we all pretended to hate but secretly knew every word to.

When we pulled up to the diner, the neon sign flickered above us in a comforting, familiar way. We snagged a booth near the window, the warm light bouncing off the chrome countertops as we ordered the usual-chocolate for Courtney, vanilla for Zan, and strawberry for me.

As we waited for our shakes, Courtney leaned across the table, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So... I'm thinking of finally cutting my hair short. Like, really short." She mimed a bob around her chin, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

I laughed. "You've been saying that for ages. What's stopping you?"

She rolled her eyes with a smile.

We were Courtney laughing and sipping on our shakes, just enjoying the simplicity of the night.

Then, as if on fucking cue, the door swung open, and a group of familiar faces strolled in. Timothée, Marcus, Troy, and Blake-loud as ever, laughing as they made their way toward a booth on the other side of the diner. Courtney noticed them first, her eyes widening as she looked at me. I looked up, and there he was, Timothée's gaze landing on me almost immediately.

My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed hard, gripping my milkshake a little tighter. His eyes lingered for a moment too long, that familiar, cocky glint evident even from here. I quickly looked away, but I could feel his stare, warm and unsettling, still on me.

Courtney shifted in her seat, pulling her hood up and glancing quickly over her shoulder. "Is he still staring at me?" she asked in a hushed voice.

But I knew better. Timothée's eyes weren't on her-they were on me.

I could feel the weight of his gaze, the heat that came with it, and now that I understood what it meant, it was impossible to ignore. He was interested in me sexually. My pulse quickened as his stare held mine, a silent challenge, something almost daring in his eyes that seemed to say he knew exactly how to get under my skin.

Courtney's voice cut through my thoughts. "Leia?" She reached across the table to get my attention, and I snapped out of it, shaking off the flush creeping into my cheeks.

I forced a casual smile. "I think he's just... glancing around." But the truth simmered beneath the surface, the realization that he wanted me-wanted something from me-making it harder to look away.

Courtney rolled her eyes, sipping her milkshake with a scoff. "What a fucking loser," she muttered, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him. "Can't believe I wasted so much time on that."

I nodded, feigning agreement, but my eyes betrayed me. Every few seconds, I found myself stealing glances in his direction, drawn to him despite everything.

He caught me once, his smirk unmistakable. A spark of something-curiosity, attraction-passed between us, lingering just long enough to make my cheeks heat up before I quickly looked away.

Courtney sighed, oblivious. "Honestly, good riddance."

"Yeah," I murmured, forcing a smile, but the flickering tension between Timothée and me was impossible to ignore.

As Courtney continued her rant, my thoughts drifted, pulled like a magnet back to Timothée. It was as if every time I glanced away, my gaze would find its way back to him. He sat in the booth, laughing at something one of his friends said, but his eyes flickered over to me more than once. Each time, there was that smirk, that look that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.