His POV

She’s been sitting on my bed for the past two hours, textbooks open but barely touched.

She keeps fidgeting with her pen, biting her lip in frustration. I know she’s too stubborn to ask for help.

I lean back against the headboard, watching her. “You’re overthinking it.” I say lazily.

She looks up and glares at me. “I am not.”

I smirk. “You are, but it’s cute.”

She blinks, caught off guard. She then scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You’re annoying.”

I sit up, moving closer. Too close. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away.

“You sure about that?” I murmur, voice low.

She swallows hard. I see the way her fingers tighten around her pen.

“I should go.” She mutters, standing too quickly.

Rain slams against the window. A perfect excuse.

“You could leave,” I say, tilting my head. “Or you could stay.”

She hesitates. I see it.

I reach out, fingers grazing her wrist. “I don’t bite,” I add, smirking. “Unless you want me to.”

She smacks my arm, shaking her head, but she’s smiling.

And she doesn’t leave.