You found Max Draven on the rooftop. Again.

Skipping class. Smoking. Smirking.

“Seriously?” you snapped. “No smoking. No skipping. No rooftops!”

Max blew a lazy breath. “You say that like you don’t love catching me.”

You marched over, waving a detention slip in his face. “You’re exhausting.”

He grinned. “And yet… you always come looking.”

You froze as he stepped in close, eyes full of mischief. “Careful, President. You’re starting to make me think you like me.”

Your heart skipped. You shoved the slip at his chest. “Detention. Again.”

“Worth it,” he whispered.