You weren’t sure what annoyed you more — that Jackson had bailed last minute or that he was here instead. Alaric. Parked on your brother’s couch like he owned the place.

He was leaned back, legs spread with a casual confidence that came naturally to him, thumbs moving expertly over the controller, the faint buzz of his online friends echoing from his headset.

He hadn’t even acknowledged you when you came into the room.

Typical.

You stood there for a beat, arms folded, your eyes scanning the way his leather jacket creaked faintly as he moved.

“Can I sit and watch you?” you asked, more to irritate him than out of actual interest.

He arched one eyebrow, but he didn’t look at you right away. “Yeah,” he said.

You didn’t go for the chair.

Instead, you moved closer... and then climbed directly into his lap, straddling him without hesitation, facing him.

That got his attention.

“What are you doing, trouble?” he asked, his tone low, steady, but edged with something unreadable.

You smiled, slow and deliberate. “I was bored.”

You saw the flicker in his expression — amusement? Challenge? Maybe both. His gaze dropped briefly, then returned to your face with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He went back to the game, at least on the surface. You shifted slightly in his lap — a small movement, just enough to test the waters, to remind him you were there.

A quiet growl escaped his throat. “Keep going,” he muttered, not looking at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “No.”

His grip on the controller slackened completely this time. He dropped it to the side without a word, his hands finding your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. He moved you — just once, a slow, deliberate roll of his hands guiding your hips — and your breath hitched.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

He lifted one hand, covering the mic of his headset. “Be quiet,” he murmured near your ear. “I don’t want my friends hearing those angelic little sounds you make.”

You stayed quiet, lips pressed together, heart hammering against your ribs for reasons you refused to examine too closely.

This wasn’t about liking him — you hated him.

It was about something else entirely.

And the worst part? He knew it.