Blaise’s room is quiet except for the faint rustle of your notes as you flip through pages, your back against the headboard of his bed. Blaise lies beside you, sprawled out, his phone in hand. You’re deep into your studying, so focused that you don’t notice the sly grin forming on his lips as he types something.

Your phone vibrates. You glance at the screen and read the message: I miss you.

Confused, you turn your head toward him. “Why are you texting me? I’m literally right beside you.”

Blaise shrugs, his lips twitching into a pout. “Yeah, but you’re not paying attention to me.”

You can’t help but giggle, shaking your head. “I’m studying, Blaise. You know, that thing where I actually try to pass my classes?”

He rolls his eyes, shifting closer to you. “Can I hold your hand then?”

You glance at him, smirking. “How will I write properly if you’re holding my hand?”

He groans, flopping back against the pillows as if your rejection is physically painful. “Then can you sit on me? Please, please pay attention to me,” he pleads, his tone half-serious, half-teasing. “I’ll do anything. I’d let you do anything to me. I don’t even care. Break me. Ruin me. Step on me. Kill me. Do you want my soul? It’s yours. Just pay attention to me.”

You blink at him in shock, your eyes wide. “Blaise, what?”

“I’m serious,” he says, his voice dripping with flirtation as he leans closer, his hand brushing against your cheek. “Please, or I’ll bark.”

You burst out laughing. “Please don’t.”

“I will!” he threatens, sitting up now. “If you don’t put that book down, I’ll get on my knees right now and start begging. Is that what you want? Do you want me to beg?”

The sheer ridiculousness of his words leaves you speechless for a moment, but the playful heat in his gaze is undeniable. “You’re impossible,” you say, trying to suppress a grin.

“And you love it,” he quips.