It is hard to forget that random kiss. Is it just a kiss for him?

Catching Professor Tom's eye turns into quite the mission. The thought of being open about your feelings? Utterly daunting. Replaying the potential conversation in your mind only makes you feel stupid and your cheeks turn red. That is why you opt for a different approach⎯to tarnish your reputation. You stop doing your homework, make noise during the lecture, bully. You are a grown girl, but your behavior is disgusting. However, you still manage to hook him.

Tom stays silent for a long time, as if he is not the one who asked you to stay after class. You slowly wander around the classroom, and your interest lingers on the shelf with herbs, so you stand on your tippy toes, reaching for the jar to look at it. Well, it is dead boring.

“Don't touch,” the gloomy lecture class fills with his cold voice, causing your shoulders to tremble.

He does not lift his head from the table as the quill cleverly scribbles down some notes on the parchment. Though some of the curls flop onto his face⎯I wonder if they're soft⎯covering his gaze. But bleeding hell, you could have bet those bright green, icy eyes are tracking your every move, your every breath, and curves⎯

“What's up with ya lately?” The firmness in his voice lingers, but Tom finally directs his attention to you. He gets up from the leather chair and then leans his lower back on the edge of the table, crossing his arms over his broad chest, as if he's trying to choke you with his presence.

Has he bumped his head? Why does the man act like the kiss and hug never happened? And he kindles this sudden, sweet nervousness but doesn't take any action. That subtle smirk graces his lips as he clearly watches your cheeks turning soft pink once more. Just like that day, just like in the dreamy days that follow, when his gaze stays on you. What a bastard. He is just playing with you.