Phil’s POV
Staring.
He’s staring at me.
I can literally feel his eyes, moving over my profile, sliding down my body—raking my hand through my hair, I peek over at him and he meets my gaze unashamed. Theo. Averting my eyes forward, back toward the teacher, still droning on and on about I don’t even know what . . . I can’t focus at all. How am I supposed to focus under these conditions?
His leg keeps bumping mine.
He’s tapping his pen pointedly, impatiently.
Glancing over toward Diana, I see that she hasn’t noticed what he’s doing. She’s completely spaced out, just like the rest of the class is. Some taking notes, some staring blankly ahead at nothing. My eyes flicker through the room, worried somebody might see.
How doesn’t anybody see what he’s doing
