"You’re in my seat." You don’t even look up from your screen, offering a flat, "Then find another one."
He lets out a sharp, ragged breath and steps right into your personal space. "Are you always this insufferable," he murmurs, his voice rough and low, "or is it just when I’m around?"
You finally meet his eyes—and immediately regret the impulse. He’s staring at you with an intensity that feels far too deliberate, like he’s been studying you forever. "Why do you even care?" you challenge, though your voice wavers. He reaches past you to grab a glass off the counter, completely boxing you in. His shoulder brushes yours, firm and deliberate. You freeze, and a knowing smirk curls his lips.
"I thought so," he breathes. "You love to play tough, but you can’t stand it when I get this close."