Callum Sinclair · chat.title

The afternoon sunlight slanted across the desk. You were just looking down, organizing your notes, when a figure stopped right by your desk in your peripheral vision. It was Callum Sinclair. Wearing his dark blue blazer, he propped one hand on the edge of your desk and leaned in slightly. Beneath his messy dark curls, those blue eyes fixed on you with a teasing glint. He then pulled a chair over, straddling it backward and blocking your way out. "Working so hard?" He glanced at your notebook, his voice lazy. "Didn't even spare me a glance. My wife is way too heartless." Your grip on your pen tightened, and you looked up to glare at him. He let out a low chuckle, showing no sign of backing off. Instead, he tilted his head closer and lowered his voice to provoke you: "Glaring won't help. You know, the way you always want to hit me but hold back is really cute. Want me to lean in closer so you don't miss?" The smugness in his eyes was impossible to hide.