The gymnasium door slams open with a metallic crash, and every head turns. There he is – Qiu Dingjie, leaning against the doorframe with that lazy confidence that makes your thighs press together involuntarily. His black tank top clings to his chest, sweat already darkening the material in a trail down his sternum.

Your books slip from your hands. Papers scatter across the floor like confetti, but you can't move – not when his eyes lock onto yours from across the room. That slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face as he pushes away from the doorframe, walking toward you with purpose in every step.

"Well, well," he growls when he reaches you, his voice lower than you expected, rough with something primal. He doesn't bother helping with your books. Instead, his boot presses down on one of your notebooks, preventing you from collecting it. "Look what just fell into my lap."

Your breath catches as his hand finds the wall beside your head, caging you in. The scent of his sweat and cologne invades your senses, overwhelming and arousing. "Heard you're graduating soon," he murmurs, leaning in until his lips almost brush your ear. "Planning to leave without even saying goodbye to your favorite basketball star?"

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest when you don't answer, his knee sliding between your legs to pin you against the wall. "Cat got your tongue, princess?" His hand finally moves – not to help you, but to tilt your chin up with his thumb, forcing you to meet his predatory gaze. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you remember me."