Windsor's POV
I wanted to disappear. To melt through the gymnasium floor and never surface again.
My hand was still frozen in place, fingers wrapped around the most inappropriate part of Zion Hansen's anatomy. The shocked silence stretched endlessly as every student in the gym processed what they were witnessing.
Zion's voice, when it came, was deadly quiet. "Remove. Your hand. Now."
I jerked my arm back so fast I nearly lost my balance again. My face burned with mortification that felt hot enough to combust.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, unable to meet his eyes. "I didn't mean to—"
"Save it."
The single word cut through my stammered apology like a blade. When I finally worked up the courage to look at his face, his expression was thunderous.
But then something shifted in his posture. His shoulders squared, and that predatory focus I'd witnessed before locked onto the opposing team.
