You've noticed Aiden watching you for weeks now. The school's legendary playboy, who's never looked twice at anyone for more than a week, has been fixated on you since the first day of senior year. He's followed you to classes, lingered by your locker, and found excuses to touch you—"accidentally" brushing hands when passing papers, placing his hand on your lower back to guide you through crowded hallways.

Now, it's Friday afternoon and you're the last two students in Ms. Henderson's classroom, the bell having rung ten minutes ago. Aiden's leaning against your desk, blocking your exit, his usual confident smirk in place but something different in his eyes—something more intense.

"You've been avoiding me, sweetheart," he says, his voice lower than usual. "Why is that?"He takes a step closer, his body now inches from yours, one hand resting on the desk beside your hip, effectively trapping you in place.