Jacob strode confidently towards Tiffany’s desk, his trademark smirk growing wider with each step. He could feel the eyes of their classmates on him, but he only had eyes for her. As he approached, he noticed the slight tension in her shoulders, the way she pointedly avoided looking at him.

“This seat taken?” he asked playfully, sliding into the desk directly behind her.

Tiffany’s sigh was audible. “You always sit here,” she muttered.

Jacob leaned forward, close enough to catch the faint scent of her strawberry shampoo. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her silky hair. Unable to resist, he gently tugged on a strand, watching it spring back into place.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I think I might actually learn something in class today now that I’ve got such a great view.”

He saw the tips of Tiffany’s ears turn pink, and he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Jacob twirled another lock of her hair around his finger, marveling at its softness.

“Stop that,” Tiffany hissed, but she didn’t turn around.

Jacob chuckled, releasing her hair but not moving back. “Make me,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

Tiffany’s entire body went rigid, her muscles tensing as if preparing for battle. In a flash, she whirled around, her hand swatting Jacob’s away with surprising force. Her eyes, usually a warm hazel, now blazed with an icy fire that could have frozen hell itself.

“I said, stop it,” she growled through gritted teeth, her glare piercing enough to make even the bravest soul flinch.

But Jacob wasn’t just any soul. He was enthralled by her fire, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Instead of backing away, he leaned in even closer, his face mere inches from hers. His voice dropped to a low, husky whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down Tiffany’s spine.

“You know, Tiff,” he murmured, his lips barely moving, “anger looks good on you. Really brings out the gold flecks in your eyes.”

~-~

Tiffany’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat of Jacob’s words ghosting across her skin, causing her to squirm uncomfortably in her seat. Her mind raced, torn between the urge to slap him and the unexpected flutter in her stomach.

“I… you…” she stammered, struggling to form a coherent thought with him so close.

“What? Use your words, princess,” Jacob drawled.

“You are an absolute moron, Jacob,” she hissed, her words dripping with venom.

Jacob’s response was unexpected. A deep, rich laugh burst from him, filling the air around them. His eyes crinkled at the corners, genuine amusement dancing in their depths. The dimples in his cheeks were more prominent.

Tiffany stared at him. She had seen him grin like an idiot before but had never seen him laugh so freely.

He was handsome in general, sure. But when he laughed, he was…breathtaking.

He leaned back, running a hand through his tousled hair. “A moron, huh? Most girls find me charming.”

“Then bother them,” she muttered.

Jacob opened his mouth to say something else but stopped as the bell rang and Mrs. Hawthorne walked in.

“Saved by the bell,” he said and smirked, turning around to face the teacher.

Throughout the rest of the class, Jacob’s fingers kept finding their way to Tiffany’s hair, idly twirling a strand around his index finger. He leaned forward, his breath warm against her neck as he whispered, “Your hair’s so soft, Tiff. Ever think about letting it down?”

Tiffany stiffened, a shiver racing down her spine. She gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the teacher’s words, but Jacob’s touch scattered her thoughts.

“Stop it,” she hissed, not daring to turn around. “I’m trying to pay attention.”

Jacob chuckled softly, his fingertips grazing the nape of her neck. “Come on, where’s the fun in that?”

Tiffany’s face flushed. She clenched her fists, willing herself to concentrate on the lesson, but Jacob’s persistent touch made it nearly impossible.

“I swear, Jacob,” she muttered, her voice strained, “if you don’t knock it off…”

“You’ll what?” he teased, his voice low and playful.

Tiffany squirmed in her seat, torn between the desire to turn around and snap at him and the unsettling awareness of how his touch affected her. She bit her lip, struggling to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside her.

She turned to look at him, only to find his intense gaze already fixed on her. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, a spark of electricity passing between them before Tiffany hastily looked away, her heart racing.

Why was he looking at her like that?

Suddenly, Jacob leaned forward again, his lips close to her ear. “Hey, Tiff,” he whispered, his voice filled with mischief. “What do you call a fake noodle?”

Despite herself, Tiffany found herself curious. “What?” she murmured back, trying to keep her voice low.

“An impasta,” Jacob replied, his grin evident in his voice.

Tiffany couldn’t help it. A snort of laughter escaped her before she could clamp her hand over her mouth. She turned to face Jacob, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

“Is there a problem back there?” Mrs. Hawthorne called out to her.

Tiffany blushed and hid behind her notebook. She turned back to Jacob again.

“That was terrible,” she whispered.

Jacob was smiling widely, his crystal grey eyes sparkling. “Ah, but it made you laugh,” he whispered back.

“So what?” she hissed.

“I decided my number one mission is to make you laugh at least three times a day,” he said nonchalantly.

“Jacob and Tiffany. Don’t make me send you two to the principal’s office!” Mrs. Hawthorne calld out again.

Tiffany’s face burned with embarrassment as she straightened in her seat, trying to hide behind her notebook once more. She shot Jacob a glare, but his carefree grin only grew wider.

“Oops,” he muttered with a wink, clearly unfazed by the teacher’s warning.

Tiffany clenched her jaw, determined not to let him get to her anymore. She turned her attention back to the board, her mind racing as she tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to flutter whenever Jacob was close. How could someone be so infuriating and yet…so charming?

For the rest of the class, Jacob stayed quiet, but she could still feel his presence, the occasional tap of his pencil on his desk or the way he leaned slightly forward as if about to say something.

When the bell finally rang, Tiffany wasted no time packing her things, eager to escape before Jacob could continue his teasing. But before she could make her exit, his voice stopped her.

“Hey, Tiff, wait up.”

She paused, her heart thumping in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him, crossing her arms defensively. “What now, Jacob?”

He shrugged, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your plan for the prom?”

Tiffany blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Ehh…prom?” she stammered.

“Yeah, prom.” Jacob leaned against the doorframe casually, his gaze never leaving hers. “You know…dumb high school dance all the girls dying to go?”

“I know what prom is,” Tiffany said gruffly.

“You going with anyone?” he asked.

Tiffany furrowed her brows, feeling her pulse quicken. She hadn’t really thought about prom—mostly because the idea of dressing up and spending an entire evening around people, including Jacob, seemed exhausting.

“I… don’t know yet,” she replied cautiously, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Jacob raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning a shade softer, more sincere. “You should let me take you,” he said, the playful tone gone from his voice.

Tiffany’s heart skipped a beat, the sudden seriousness in his eyes catching her off guard. “Why would I do that?” she asked, crossing her arms, trying to hide the warmth rising to her cheeks.

“Because,” he said, stepping a little closer, his voice low, “You think I am hot?”

Tiffany snorted. “No, I don’t! You should take Amber. She thinks you are hot as fuck. Now get out of my way!” she squealed and pushed him out of the way before striding down the hallway.