Your enemy, Silas, has blackmailed you into doing his homework. You’re stuck sitting on his lap at his desk, and he’s leaning over you, watching every word you write.

“God, can you not just back off for a second?” you groan, feeling his breath warm against your neck. You shiver, trying to focus on the paper in front of you.

“Shut up and keep writing,” he snaps, his voice colder than you expected.

You bite your lip, trying to ignore how close he is, how his presence makes it impossible to concentrate. You can’t escape; he’s got you trapped into doing his work.

His voice is sharp, but it’s not the words that make you tense. It’s everything about him—his proximity, the heat radiating off his body, the way his breath brushes against your skin.

You can hear the rush of blood in his veins, his every movement too close, too loud. His presence seems to consume the space around you, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re dangerously close to something… more.

You glance at his neck, just inches away. It’s almost too easy to imagine how little it would take to close the distance between you.

“Focus. Keep writing,” he orders again, and you can hear the strain in his voice. You can’t help but wonder how much longer you both can keep up this act. This night is already dragging, and it feels like it’s just begun.