Page 63 of Fall Fake-Out

She moves the strawberry closer, slow enough that anticipation starts doing dangerous things to my brain and my heart rate. I lean forward before I even realize I’m doing it, eyes fixed on her fingers, her mouth, the faint pink flush rising into her cheeks.

She’s enjoying this.

Enjoying playing with my emotions.

And I don’t even care.

If anything, her confidence is the sexiest part of all of this.

I open my mouth, and for one deeply humiliating second, she leaves me hanging there until she moves the strawberry close enough for me to eat.

The fruit dip is sweet. Cold.

Doesn’t matter.

Because Ari’s still looking at me like that.

My eyes close briefly as I chew, and I hear a muffled sound from the next table over that suspiciously sounds like someone choking on a laugh. Eyelids flip open, and two sophomores at the next table over are literally pointing at me, making fun of me.

“Well?” she asks.

I shift my gaze to her. There’s a satisfied grin covering her lips. I wouldn’t describe it as cute. More like tantalizing.

“Miss Langford,” I say carefully, “that was wildly inappropriate for school lunch.”

Her lips twitch, but then she remembers where she’s at. The tension evaporates. The look disappears as she glances around the cafeteria like she regrets the last twenty seconds.

And just like that, it’s over.

But not for me. I’ll be thinking about this for days to come.

She destroyed me with that strawberry. And what I can’t figure out is why. Why did this one moment affect me more than the thousands of other flirtatious interactions I’ve had in my dating career?

It’s not supposed to be real.

So why does it feel more real than anything else?

Ari leans back in her chair, pops another strawberry into her own mouth, and shrugs like she didn’t just completely derail my central nervous system in front of the student body.

“Don’t ever tell me I don’t know how to seduce a man,” she says smugly.

Oh, I won’t make that mistake again.

“Yo, Stevie!” a boy hollers while passing our table. “Gettin’ hot with Miss Langford!”

Several students laugh.

Across the cafeteria, Ashtyn watches us silently.

No dramatic reaction.

No obvious jealousy.

She just slowly stirs her straw through her drink while staring directly at Ari like she’s studying her.

That calm expression unsettles me way more than a tantrum would.

“Do you think your little strawberry stunt worked?” I ask.