Page 49 of Symphony for Lies

“What are you—?”

“Good. My turn.” His brown eyes dragged over me, deliberately slow, from the top of my head to the tips of my shoes before sweeping back up to my face.

My fingers tightened around the chair’s armrests, trying to snap myself out of whatever spell his presence had cast.

Before I could turn back toward my desk, his hand shot out, gripping the back of my chair.

“I’m not done yet,” he murmured as he leaned in closer.His mint-tinged breath brushed against my skin, and the fine hairs on my nape stood on end.

I blinked rapidly, and when I met his eyes again, I felt like I was being pulled under, caught in something I didn’t know how to escape.

“Do you always get this close to people, or do you just enjoy making them uncomfortable?” I muttered breathlessly, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck.

Zane tilted his head with a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his lips.“Uncomfortable?” His gaze flickered to my lips, lingering for a beat too long. “You sure that’s what you’re feeling?”

I cursed the heat pooling in my core.

“I don’t seem like the one flustered here.”

I rolled my eyes and spun back to the desk more forcefully than necessary. “Don’t flatter yourself, Zane.”

He chuckled, stepping closer.

I pressed myself against the desk, trying to put some distance between us, but it was useless.

“What are you even doing here?”

“Simon told me you were still here.” His expression remained relaxed, almost amused. “Figured I’d check in on you and let him hang out with his friend.”

I looked up at him.“And why would you need to check in on me?”

“Because I wanted to see you.”

My mouth parted slightly, caught off guard by how effortlessly he admitted that.

Zane didn’t even blink. His gaze drifted over the classroom, then landed on my notes.“What’s that?”

Oh. Right.I had completely forgotten why I was sitting at my desk in the first place.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” I answered quickly.

“Oh, I doubt that.” Zane leaned forward, his body barely brushing against me as he reached for the notebook. The heat of his proximity sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine.

His finger slid against mine as he took the pen from my grasp. Just for a moment. A brief touch. Fleeting. But it left a mark anyway.

I forced my gaze away from his long, elegant fingers that made everything he did look effortless.

He studied the notes I had scribbled down, his expression shifting into something unreadable.“You wrote it wrong.”

My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He removed the F from my notes and replaced it with an E.

“See? The sequence is D, G, A, E. It’s a common progression in classical compositions. It actually sounds like something, even on paper.” He tapped the page. “Now it makes sense.”

I blinked at the scribbled notes, racing to process it. “Oh.” The sound left my lips involuntarily.

He might actually be right.

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