(Michelle Lui's POV)
When Steven asked me if I wanted to get coffee after class, I said yes.
Calmly.
Softly.
Like a reasonable human being.
Internally, however, I was on fire.
Small, adorable, highly flammable flames.
Camille made eye contact with me across the room and mouthed:
"OH MY GOD, YOU TWO ARE A THING."
I shook my head frantically.
"WE ARE NOT A THING."
She pointed at Steven.
Then pointed at me.
Then pointed at the empty space between us.
"THE AIR IS A THING."
I threw my pen at her.
Angie, behind her, studied me with narrowed, bitter eyes.
Camille caught my pen and flung it back, whispering, "You're glowing again."
"I AM SWEATY."
"Sure, darling."
I wanted to hide under my desk.
But the professor entered, everyone sat straighter, and I tried—tried—to look like the embodiment of academic seriousness.
During Class — The Quiet Shift
But concentration?
Impossible.
Steven sat beside me the entire lecture.
Not just sat.
