I stubbornly kept my head down as the lectures dragged on.
Even when I felt his gaze drilling holes into the side of my face, even when my phone buzzed quietly with his name flashing across the screen —
I ignored it all.
By the time classes ended, my mood had cooled into something solid and unbreakable.
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed straight for the library, determined to drown myself in anything but him.
But just as I reached the entrance, a firm hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging me to a halt.
"What's wrong with you?" Danny demanded, his voice low but rough with frustration.
I kept my face carefully blank.
"Nothing," I said, pulling slightly against his grip.
"I'm just busy. I can't always be there for you, you know?"
His jaw tightened.
"Jeez," he muttered. "Is this about that dumb punishment? Just say it if you're scared."
Still trapped in his hold, I yanked a book from the shelf with more force than necessary and narrowed my eyes at him.
"I'm not afraid of anything," I snapped. "Bring it on. Whatever your precious challenge is."
Danny smirked — a lazy, dangerous curve of his lips — and leaned a fraction closer.
"You'll have to bake me a cake. At my house."
The words hit me like a curveball.
A cake?
At his house?
The audacity.
I crossed my arms and tilted my chin up stubbornly.
"Fine. After we finish the project," I said coolly. "I'll bake you the best damn cake you've ever tasted."
His smile deepened — not cocky this time, but something quieter.
Maybe even impressed.
"Deal," he said softly, finally releasing my wrist.
And as he turned to walk into the library with that casual, maddening confidence...
I couldn't help but feel like I'd just agreed to something far bigger than baking a cake.