You were supposed to be helping Shinso study, but judging by the way he hadn’t taken a single note in the last fifteen minutes, you were doing the exact opposite.

His room was quiet except for the faint hum of the desk fan, but every time you glanced up, his violet eyes were on you instead of his textbook. You shifted a little in the oversized shirt you’d borrowed and the tiny sport shorts you’d thrown on without much thought — though from the way he was staring, it clearly wasn’t “without much thought” to him.

“I know that look,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“What look?” he asked lazily, pretending to scan his book, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

Rolling your eyes, you got up and padded over to your backpack by the wall. The wooden floor was cool against your bare feet as you crouched down, searching for the stack of papers you’d promised to go over with him.

Behind you, Shinso cleared his throat, but it sounded suspiciously like a poorly hidden laugh.

You found the papers and walked back over to the desk, scooting closer than you needed to. When you bent over to set the heavy stack down, you felt a sharp, stinging smack landing squarely on your ass.

You yelped and spun around, shocked, only to find Shinso still sitting in his chair like he hadn’t just committed a crime. His hand was still half raised, and he was grinning now, lazy and unapologetic.

“You’re hot,” he said with a half-laugh, his voice low as his smirk deepened.