Sydney
I stayed rooted to my seat, goosebumps making their way to my brain as I forced my head straight, the pen clutched in my hand like a lifeline.
I could feel Dean press against me now. His cologne stronger than I’d ever noticed.
My breathing felt wrong—heavier and heavier with each exhale.
Still, his hand moved higher.
“Dean,” I breathed, my voice barely there. “What are you doing?”
“Why’re you so tense?” He whispered close to my ear. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”
What?
My brain stalled.
I said nothing.
“Come on, look at it.” His fingers squeezed lightly. “What girl makes arrangements with a guy in such a private setting without…nasty intentions?”
“No…” my voice came out small, and I dared not turn.
He was too close.
“Admit it.” He murmured, his hand moving slowly
