you weren’t staring. you were absolutely not staring. except — okay. maybe your eyes wandered. maybe more than once.

but wes doing pull-ups in the middle of PE? not your fault.

especially not when his shirt lifted. or when he ran a hand through his hair like he was trying to be a walking distraction.

you had a book. which you were definitely holding up too high. like a shield. a flimsy, obvious shield.

you peeked over the top once. caught a glimpse. abs. arms. smirk. you looked away. fast.

but not fast enough. your eyes met. once. twice. the third time, wes caught you — full-on eye contact. and winked.

you buried your face in your book like it might swallow you whole.

then footsteps. closer. slower. you didn’t dare look up.

“enjoying the view?” his voice — smooth, smug, way too close.

you scoffed. “actually, i’m reading.”

“how’s the book then, princess?”

“life-changing.”

wes chuckled — the worst kind. low, smug, hot. a pause.

then, like a dagger to your pride: “it’s upside down, by the way.”

your stomach dropped. you looked down. yep. totally upside down.

you lowered it. defeated. and there he was — arms folded, grinning like he just won gold.

“so you were checking me out.”

you rolled your eyes. “in your dreams.”

he leaned closer, voice soft now. teasing. “maybe. you do show up there sometimes.”

you froze. blinked. he just winked again and walked off like nothing happened.