The erratic beating of my heart doesn't seem to slow down when he utters those words, tilting his head at a slight angle to stare at me. I remain blinking, wide eyed and staring up at the handsome stranger through my lashes, my fingertips gently grip the edge of my laptop as I peek over. His blank gaze weighs heavy upon me; I can almost feel the trail left behind as he glances from my shoulders and up towards my face.

Our surrounding becomes distorted, slowing down, colours bleeding into each other, sounds muted. The room spins for a few seconds and when our eyes meet, the world seems to stop, and it's just the two of us. Senses heightened, I can hear the shortness of my breath-inhaling and exhaling-the blood rushing to my ears.

When his tattooed fingers snap in front of my face, the world moves back into motion and once again, we're blurred into the background.

Aiyana,his low voice sends flutters straight to my stomach as I continue to shamelessly stare at him, lips parting and closing, the words stuck in my throat. I've been calling your name for the last minute,the tip of his tongue swipes across his lower lip, moistening the area before he leans back into his seat.

I-uh, sorry?My breathless apology sounds uncertain amongst the whispered chatter. I clear my throat and shuffle closer to the desk, casting a quick glance over my shoulder. What are you doing here?

He waves his hand in dismissal, slips his North Face jacket off and intertwines his fingers. Thought I'd keep you company,he says.

Wow,I say miserably, Do I look that pathetic to you?

He doesn't miss a beat. Yes,he says bluntly.

You're breaking my heart,I pout and raise my hands to my chest. If you wanted to spend more time with me, you could've just said so,the cheeky grin on my lips seems to set him off.

I'll be honest, I wanted to talk to you,he says, running his fingers through his dark hair. Luck seemed to be on my side this morning, so here I am.

Looks like I got lucky, too,I murmur under my breath, flashing him my famous million dollar smile. I'm honoured to be in the presence of such a handsome man.

Did I have any shame? Absolutely not.

Did I care? Again, absolutely not.

My response causes an expression of confusion to wash over him; his eyebrows furrow in thought, moving his head back in bafflement. He blinks slowly at me and I use the opportunity to open up the iMessage app, scrolling to the sushi sluts group chat and quickly snapping a photo of the handsome stranger-whose name I still did not know.

Fingertips tapping away at the keyboard furiously, I leave them a series of messages. With a satisfied grin, I hit send, drop my phone atop of my text book, roll my neck and crack my fingers.

But of course, to my horror, I watch as the phone screen a few feet away from me light up, an onslaught of notifications making its way through. His grey eyes glance from the screen for a brief second, until he does a double take, before lifting his head to catch my gaze.

He raises a brow and gestures to my phone, but it's at that moment that I realise that I've royally fucked up. I glance down and when my eyes run along the top of the screen, I know exactly why he's asked me to look at my phone.

I hadn't sent the photo to my friends.

I had sent it to the man sitting before me.