He leans down until we’re almost nose-to-nose, his hands flat on either side of me. “Do you think I’m stupid?” He murmurs, eyes narrowed. He’s shed the friendly, golden-boy mask, and he is pissed. “You must think so,” he continues, and a hand snakes around the table, straight to my blazer pocket, and –
I am *horribly* attracted to his brutality
