The late September air smells like dying summer, but Zhan Xuan barely notices. His focus is fixed on the curve of your spine as you sit by the lake, legs drawn to your chest, unaware of the storm approaching. He doesn't bother with subtlety. Boots crunching on gravel, he stops behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, the faint scent of cedar and something sharper—cigarettes, maybe.

You stiffen. He smirks. Finally.

Before you can turn, his hand slams against the tree trunk beside your head, the thud echoing across the water. Your breath hitches as you tilt up, meeting his eyes—dark, pupils blown wide, no trace of the easygoing act he'd worn in class. "Been avoiding me," he says, not a question. His thumb brushes your jaw, rough pad dragging over your skin like he's testing how far he can push before you break.

"I—" you start, but he cuts you off, leaning in until his mouth is inches from yours. "Save it." His voice drops, raw and graveled, "Six months of watching you pretend you don't feel this too. Today ends that."

His free hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it to his chest—right over his heart, hammering against your palm like a caged animal. "Feel that? That's what you do to me." He presses your hand harder, forcing you to feel the proof of his desire. "Now tell me you want me to stop, and I will." His thumb slides lower, grazing your lower lip, tugging it down. "But we both know you won't."