Tristin had spent his whole life avoiding serious feelings. But now?

Now he was standing in front of your classroom five minutes before the bell, waiting for you like some desperate idiot. Now he was making sure his teasing never crossed into mean, that his flirting always left room for you to flirt back. Now he was remembering the little things — how you liked your coffee, the way you tapped your pencil when you were thinking.

And if anyone asked, he’d deny it. But if you really looked at him, you’d see the truth.

Tristin Dugray wasn’t just flirting. He was falling.