CHAPTER 12
Felix stood there, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"Drink the hangover tea on the table before you go," he said, his voice leaving zero room for argument.
Before I could protest, he walked away.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. My head was still killing me.
Fine.
I grabbed the cup, chugged the disgusting tea in one gulp, and gagged.
Gross.
Bag in hand, I bolted out the door.
—
By some miracle, I made it to class just in time.
The teacher walked in the second I collapsed into my seat, breathless but victorious.
One problem, though.
I couldn't focus.
My eyes kept darting to the door, searching. Waiting.
But Adrian never showed up.
I ignored the strange pang of disappointment in my chest. It wasn't like I wanted to see him.
Shaking off the thought, I tried to refocus. But then—
Sports class.
My stomach twisted.
I couldn't change.
—
Standing outside the boys' changing room, I chewed my lip, waiting for everyone to leave.
Once the coast was clear, I exhaled in relief and slipped inside.
Good. Empty.
I was about to take off my shirt when—
A shadow loomed over me.
The air shifted.
Slowly, I turned.
And there he was.
Adrian.
His presence swallowed the entire room, his eyes sharp, dark, unreadable.
I couldn't breathe.
"Why haven't you changed?" he asked, his voice smooth, casual—yet charged with something electric.
I swallowed hard. "I—I was just about to."
He tilted his head, his gaze studying me too closely. "You waited for everyone to leave."
I stiffened.
He noticed?
"I just—don't like changing in front of people," I said quickly.
A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
"Then change in front of me."
My brain short-circuited.
"W-What?!"
His smirk deepened.
"We're both guys, aren't we?" he murmured, stepping forward.
I instinctively stepped back.
Cold wall.
Trapped.
His arms boxed me in, one hand pressed against the wall beside my head, the other—
Oh God.
His other hand was on my waist.
A jolt of heat shot through me.
"Go on," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.
My pulse skyrocketed.
I shoved at his chest. Big mistake.
His fingers curled around my wrist in one swift move, spinning me effortlessly until my back was flat against the wall.
I gasped.
Too close.
Way too close.
His touch wasn't rough. It wasn't forceful. But it was firm.
Dominant.
Dangerous.
"What do you want?" I forced out, hating how breathless I sounded.
His lips brushed my ear.
"I want you to change."
My body went rigid.
"I—I can do it myself," I stammered.
Adrian hummed, unconvinced.
His fingers tightened on my waist—just enough to make my skin burn.
I was going to die.
Then—
I felt it.
The slow, deliberate slide of his fingers.
Lifting my shirt.
Inch by inch.