I lifted the camera, adjusting the settings. Professor Marshall had insisted we document our project with photo proof, which meant I had to capture everything, including Betty’s notes.
Which was annoying as hell, but right now? It gave me an excuse to look at her.
Betty sat across from me in the small study room, the fluorescent lights casting shadows that made it too easy to notice things I shouldn't – like the soft curve of her neck, or how her cheerleading uniform hugged every inch of her in ways that made my mouth go dry.
"Hold still," I muttered, focusing the lens on her. "You're in the shot."
She shifted awkwardly, and the movement sent a jolt of heat through my pants.
"Do we really need to do this? Can't we just pretend we filmed it?"
I lowered the camera, giving her a pointed look.
"You're asking me to cheat?" I raised an eyebrow, fighting back the smirk that threatened to surface. "Shocking."
She rolled her eyes, ducking her head to focus on the textbook.
"You're real tense, you know that?" The question formed in my mind, dangerous and tempting.
"I'm just trying to finish this project," she snapped back, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.
I smirked, shifting the camera back up, but I wasn’t focusing on the screen anymore.
I was focusing on her.
The camera clicked as I captured the page, but my attention was elsewhere – on the way her hair fell forward, on how her teeth caught her bottom lip in concentration.
My mind wandered to dangerous territory.
Would she make that same expression if I kissed her? Would she shiver with delight if I traced the curve of her neck with my tongue? Would she—
"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. "What?"
"You heard me." I leaned back, crossing my arms, trying to look casual even as my heart hammered against my ribs. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"
"Does it look like I have time for one?" Her attempt at deflection was almost cute.
"That's not an answer." I watched her squirm, satisfaction mixing with something darker as color crept up her neck.
I didn’t say anything else. Just let the silence stretch, let the weight of the question hang between us.
She exhaled sharply, turning back to her book, but her focus was shot.
Finally, under her breath—so soft I almost didn’t catch it—“No.”
I leaned forward. “What was that?”
“No. I haven’t.” Her jaw clenched, defiant even in admission.
Something about the way she said it stopped me. The teasing edge I’d been holding onto wavered.
I studied her—really studied her—for the first time. The way her shoulders tensed like she was waiting for me to laugh at her, the way her fingers fidgeted with the corner of a page, her knuckles turning white.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
“Interesting,” I murmured.
The smugness was gone. The teasing tone was softer now. I watched her closely.
“So… no boyfriend,” I said, tilting my head. “And never been kissed?”
Her eyes flicked to the camera on the table.
Recording.
She froze, eyes darting to the camera still recording on the table. "Why are you asking me this?"
My gaze locked onto hers, and for a moment, I forgot about the bet, about Stacey, about everything except the way she looked at me – scared but curious, like she couldn't decide if she wanted to run or stay.
I could’ve shrugged it off. Could’ve let it drop. But for some reason, I didn’t want to.
I smirked, but it didn’t feel like my usual smirk. “Just curious.”
She tried to look away.
“You’re getting tense again, Fatty Betty,” I said, my voice dipping lower. “Relax.”
Her eyes snapped back to mine, wary. I leaned in. And I wasn’t teasing anymore.
“Why do you care?” she asked, her voice too quiet.
She wasn’t snapping back. Wasn’t throwing some sharp insult my way like she usually would. She was… waiting.
Like she wasn’t sure what my answer would be. I leaned in closer, voice dropping.
"You're missing out a lot." The words came out husky, revealing more than I intended.
"I don't think so." But her voice wavered, betraying her.
I let my gaze drop to her lips, then back to her eyes. "You really think that?"
The space between us seemed to shrink, and I could feel her breath on my skin. She was close – too close.
"You don't wonder what it's like?" My voice was barely a whisper now, rough with want I couldn't hide.
She sucked in a breath, her lips parting slightly. The air in the room shifted.
I could feel her warmth now, close enough that if I wanted to, I could close the space completely.
I could’ve kissed her.
I could’ve pushed her just a little further—just enough to see if she’d pull away or if she’d let me.
But I didn’t. Instead, I let my hand brush against hers on the table.
Light. Barely there. But enough.
Enough for me to feel the way her fingers tensed, the way her breath hitched, the way her body froze completely.
“You really don’t?” I murmured.
But my eyes betrayed me again, trailing down the slope of her neck to where her uniform stretched tight across her chest.
That ridiculous pleated skirt barely covered her thighs, and Christ, she had no idea what she was doing to me. No idea about the images flooding my mind – her spread out beneath me, those soft thighs wrapped around my waist, her lips parted on a moan...
The door swung open, shattering my dangerous train of thought. Stacey sauntered in, her presence like a bucket of ice water down my spine.
"Hey, Archibald," she purred, all false sweetness and sharp edges. "Are you picking me up tomorrow for Froshie’s Night?"
The thought of spending another night pretending with Stacey made something in my chest constrict. "Nah. Going with the guys," I said, not bothering to soften the dismissal.
Her smile faltered for just a second before she recovered, hiding the rejection behind practiced indifference.
She left without another word, the door closing behind her with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.
"Froshie's Night?" Betty's voice was soft, curious. Nothing like Stacey's calculated tones.
I turned to her, and immediately regretted it. She was looking at me with those wide, honest eyes that made something in my chest ache.
"Big event for all the freshmen," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral even as my body hummed with awareness of her proximity. "Didn’t anyone tell you?"
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
I snorted. “Everyone’s invited. Just show up.”