"I'm necessary. There's a difference."
"I should go."
"But you won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you wore perfume on your inner thighs. Because your underwear finally matches your bra. Because you told Jack you were studying with Ashley—but Ashley's in Cabo right now."
Her face flushed nuclear. "How could you possibly—"
"Know? Because I pay attention. To everything. Like how you cross your legs tighter when you're aroused. Like how you've been pressing your thighs together since I walked in. Like how you keep licking your lips imagining what I taste like."
"Stop."
"Make me."
She stood so abruptly the chair scraped, eyes flashing. For a second I thought she'd storm out. Then she grabbed her purse and said, loud enough for the barista to choke on his oat milk:
"You're right. We should study at your place. Better resources."
Game on.
