During Bio, he's quieter than usual. He doesn't crack his usual dirty jokes under his breath or try to distract me with whispered teases. Instead, he keeps sneaking glances at me, his expression unusually tight, almost nervous. Every time our eyes meet, he looks away too quickly, like he's been caught.
It unsettles me more than I want to admit. Mateo isn't the type to look nervous.
When the final bell rings, I'm still thinking about it. But before I can even ask what's wrong, Mateo grabs my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and tugs me out of the classroom. His grip is firm, urgent.
"Oh, are you excited about something?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as he pulls me through the flood of students desperate to escape the building.
"Shut up," Mateo mutters under his breath. And maybe I'm imagining it, but I'd bet money there's a light blush coloring his cheeks.
That's… new.
