The library smelled of old paper and pinewood polish, the kind of scent that promised quiet and secrets. You never liked being here late, not because of the quiet, but because the quiet had a way of making people like Rafe Cameron stand out.

He was already there when you arrived—slouched in the corner booth, ink-stained notebook cracked open, smirking like he knew something you didn’t.

He probably did.

“You’re late,” he said, pen spinning between his fingers. “I was beginning to think you chickened out.”

You slid into the booth across from him, setting your bag down with a thud. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron. I just had better things to do.”

His grin widened, the kind that made you want to slap him or kiss him—depending on the mood.

“You bring the notes?”

You pulled out the finished assignment, slid it across the table. He didn’t even glance at it.

“You know,” he said slowly, tapping his pen against the table, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

He ignored that. “If I’m gonna keep passing this class, you’re gonna have to keep doing more than just my homework.”

You raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I mean maybe it’s time you get something out of it too. You do this whole good girl act so well. But I don’t think you’ve ever actually let loose.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. “Get to the point.”

His smile was sharp, calculated. “You help me pass English. I teach you how to make someone beg.”

Silence hung for a second too long.

You scoffed, reaching for your bag. “You’re disgusting.”

“But you’re still sitting here.”

He wasn’t wrong. Something about his arrogance, his control—it infuriated you. But it also sparked something deeper, something you didn’t want to name.

He leaned in closer, voice low and serious now. “It’s not about being dirty. It’s about power. Control. Confidence. You wanna know how to have it?”

You swallowed hard.

“Then say yes.”