The clock on the classroom wall ticks slowly, each second dragging on as you sit at the desk, chin resting on your hand. Detention. On a Friday. Just perfect.

And, of course, you’re not alone.

Rafe Cameron is sitting two seats away, leaning back in his chair with that signature smirk like he owns the place. The teacher supervising is half-asleep at the front, barely paying attention, which only makes Rafe’s presence more dangerous.

“You know,” he murmurs, tapping a pen against his desk. “For someone who’s supposed to be all good girl, I’m surprised to see you here.”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother looking at him. “And I’m surprised you’re still allowed in this school.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and amused. “What’d you do, anyway?”

You finally glance at him, debating if you should even tell him. But there’s something about the way he’s watching you—curious, a little smug, but genuinely interested.

“Got caught sneaking out of class,” you admit. “Happy?”

His brows lift slightly. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

You scoff. “You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

Rafe leans forward, resting his arms on the desk, his blue eyes locked onto you. “Then maybe I should start learning.”

Before you can come up with a snarky reply, the teacher finally stirs, glancing up from his book. “No talking,” he mutters, barely looking at either of you before going back to ignoring the room.

Rafe smirks, but for once, he listens.

The room falls quiet again, except now, there’s a shift in the air—an unspoken challenge, a lingering tension. You try to focus on the clock, on the scribbles in your notebook, on anything but the fact that Rafe Cameron is still watching you like he’s planning something.

And knowing him? He probably is.