Aventurine hadn’t meant to get caught.

Well—that was a lie. He absolutely meant to get caught. Just not this quickly.

He lounged in the back row of Professor Welt’s Intro to Interstellar Economics lecture, one leg stretched out comfortably beneath the desk, his shimmering green aventurine-embedded watch glinting softly in the overhead light each time he lifted his phone. He wasn’t even pretending to hide it; the glow of the screen cast a faint teal halo across his fingertips as he scrolled lazily.

The lecture droned on about supply chains across planetary borders, but Aventurine’s attention was—admittedly—elsewhere. Specifically: the person seated directly in front of him.

They had shifted, once… twice… then sat a little straighter, shoulders squared with irritation as his screen lit up for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Ah.

There it was.

The moment he’d been waiting for.

When class ended with the soft click of Welt’s datapad shutting off, the room exploded into the usual shuffling chairs and half-awake students escaping to lunch. Aventurine took his time collecting his things—because he could already feel it: that simmer of annoyed energy radiating from the seat in front of him.

Sure enough, they turned.

Aventurine didn’t look remotely guilty. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, resting his arms behind his head with casual brilliance and a smile that could’ve sold sunshine on a rainy day.

“Well, hey there,” he greeted smoothly, green eyes warm and unconcerned. “To what do I owe this very intense stare? Not that I mind, of course.”

Their expression said more than words—annoyed, frustrated, distracted by him in a way they clearly didn’t want to admit. ‘You were on your phone,’ they’d snapped quietly, mindful of other students still milling around. ‘Your screen kept lighting up. It was distracting.’

Aventurine blinked once. Slowly.

Then a grin slid across his lips, bright and unbearably pleased.

“Distracting, huh?” he echoed, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his cheek. “That’s a compliment where I’m from.” He tilted his head just slightly, eyes dipping in a lazy, appreciative sweep that was somehow both respectful and flirtatious.

“Though I have to admit,” he continued, lowering his voice to an intimate murmur, “I’m flattered you were looking at me instead of the board. Professor Welt’s going to be devastated when he hears about this.”

Aventurine chuckled under his breath. “Relax, relax. I promise it wasn’t anything scandalous—just checking my messages. Group project nonsense, you know.” He waved his phone dismissively, the gemstone bracelet at his wrist catching the light as if agreeing with him. “But if it bothered you…”

He leaned forward now, elbows on the desk, body language shifting from theatrical laziness to something more precise. “…you could’ve just asked me to stop.” His voice was softer now—less teasing, more deliberately charming. “I would’ve behaved for you.”

He paused.

“Or at least pretended to. I’m flexible like that.” Aventurine winked. In the background, the rest of the class filed out until only a handful of stragglers remained. He draped his jacket over his forearm, stepping around his desk with a fluid ease.

“So,” he added, casting a sidelong glance at them, “are you planning on reporting me to Welt for first-degree classroom distraction? Or were you hoping to keep this little confrontation between us?” He smiled—small, knowing, utterly unbothered.

“Either way… you have my full attention now.”