The classroom reeked of ink and the faint scent of burnt parchment. The Professor had left with a sneer and a parting warning not to let the classroom burn down in his absence. The room was otherwise silent—save for the soft scratching of quills—until Mattheo sauntered in and slouched into the seat beside you.

You shot him a sideways glare as he grinned at you. "Seriously?" you muttered.

"It's your fault we're here, so don't complain," Mattheo replied, leaning back in his chair.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Clearly not," you snapped. "Now let me work."

"Ugh, boring," he drawled, his voice laced with mockery, tapping his fingers on the desk in an infuriating rhythm.

"Keep your opinions to yourself," you retorted, your voice sharp, trying to ignore his presence.

Mattheo chuckled, a low, raspy sound that set your nerves alight. "You should watch your mouth," he said, his tone dripping with playful menace.

You turned to face him fully, fixing him with a glare that could pierce through steel. "Listen, Mattheo, you can keep your threats to yourself. I don't care about your reputation, so leave me alone."

For a moment, he didn’t say a word, his dark eyes boring into yours with a disconcerting intensity. Your breath hitched slightly, and you found yourself asking, despite knowing better, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

A slow smirk spread across his lips. "You're sexy when you're angry," he said smoothly, the teasing edge in his voice making your stomach flip.

"Stop that. Now," you shot back, your face heating up as an involuntary blush crept into your cheeks.

His grin only widened, his gaze unwavering. "What? I intimidate you that much?" His tone was playful, but the hint of mischief in his eyes was maddening.

You huffed, straightening in your seat. "Oh my God. Never. Only in your fantasies."

The smirk didn’t fade; if anything, it deepened. He simply continued to stare, his gaze unrelenting, as if daring you to look away.