you can feel like

“You’ve tried,” you deadpan, mentally cursing yourself for caving and responding; he’s like a fucking dog with a bone. 

“And yet,” he whispers, leaning in like he’s telling you a secret. “We’ve yet to do anything about it.”

“There won’t be anything done about it.”

“About what?” 

You pause to look at the idiot. He stops too, smiling at you unbothered by the bodies of other cadets who have to navigate around the two of you in the hallway. 

“About the undeniable chemistry,” you drawl. 

It was clearly a trap—the bastard's brows rising victoriously. “So, you feel it too, huh? I knew it. You like playing hard to get, gorgeous?” 

“For the love of Amari, you are unbelievable,” you groan, barely restraining yourself from stomping your foot petulantly as you pivot and continue towards the classroom. 

Ridoc seamlessly falls into step with you. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“It sure sounded like one.”

You shoulder your way through the door of the lecture hall and descend the stairs to find a seat. Your shadow is hot on your tail and ready to take the empty seat beside the one you stop at, only to come up short and frown down at your bag as you unceremoniously dump it there. 

“What do you want, Gamlyn?”

You hear the telltale huff of a thoroughly unimpressed dragon in the back of your mind—which you translate to something along the lines of don’t play dumb, Stubborn One—that you do your best to ignore.

“Uhm, to act on this thing going on between us, obviously.” A man truly has no right looking so good while being so obnoxious.

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

Ridoc’s dark eyes flash in excitement, a dimple appearing as he smirks at you. “Not yet, maybe.”

“Get over it,” you huff, slamming down into your chair and readying your notebook for class to start. “It’s not happening.” 

He heaves a sigh as he steps around you and takes the seat on your other side. 

“Fine, but can I at least ask why?” 

You look over at him, really look. 

There’s an unruly curl that insists on hanging over his forehead despite him constantly pushing it back, still a touch damp from whatever shower he took after sparring this morning. His tanned skin looks like it’d be warm to the touch, as though perpetually sun-kissed despite it being notoriously cloudy lately. His lashes are dark and long and, dammit, Ridoc is pretty. 

He’s pretty and distracting and insistent and strong and loyal and you have no doubt he’d be so much fun. 

But…

“You don’t get told no a lot, do you?” 

His eyes flash down to your shoulder for a moment before they return to your eyes. “No, not really.”

“Fine.” You turn your focus to the front of the room, watching as Professor Devera enters and sets up at the podium. “You want to know why it isn’t going to happen?”

“Please.”

Fuck, and now he’s begging. 

“Because I have no interest in being just another notch on your bedpost.” 

The silence that meets you leaves you thinking the conversation might finally—blissfully—be over. 

So why does that thought leave your stomach feeling hollow? 

“Oh,” Ridoc hums. “I see.” 

You let out a sigh, still not looking at him. “Yeah.” 

“So you want to be a notch, just not another.”

“I- what?”

“Hey, no judgement, I can work with that.” He’s smiling again; one dimple mocks you as he too moves his attention forward, watching Colonel Markham enter the room to join the professor at the front. “I have to admit, I’m not usually a relationship kind of guy. But for you? I can make an exception.”

Your mind has stuttered to a complete halt, only a faint sound of amusement coming from your dragon among the eerie ringing that has replaced the sound of the quickly filling classroom. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Ridoc turns and grins—grins!—at you. “You don’t want to be just another notch on my bedpost? I’ll replace the whole frame. Brand new, just for you. I’ll take up fucking carpentry and build it myself if that’s what you’d like.” 

All you can bring yourself to do is shake your head, as if rattling around Ridoc’s words in your brain will make them settle into something that makes sense. “You’re crazy.”

His grin grows impossibly wider. “Crazy about you.”

“Ew.”

“What? Too cheesy? Okay, I’ll dial it back. Sorry, new to this whole exclusive thing.”

 “Who’s exclusive?” Rhiannon asks as she takes the seat on your other side.

“We are!” Ridoc answers for you, slapping a hand on your thigh.

You flick his hand away, turning towards your new seatmate to deny it all when Rhiannon sighs happily. “Thank gods! Fucking finally, he hasn’t shut the hell up about you in weeks, you know?”

What…the fuck? 

“Oh, Ridoc?” Violet chimes in from Rhiannon’s other side. “His dorm room’s been so disturbingly quiet lately, I thought we were going to have to do a wellness check.”

Rhiannon snorts. “For the love of Loial though, please learn how to sound proof your room.”

But your brain must have taken some serious damage during sparring that you can’t remember because not only have you still not figured out how the hell this conversation ended up here of all places, but the only thing you manage to focus on—and parrot weakly—is, “weeks?” 

Ridoc’s thigh presses into yours as Devera calls the class to attention, the rider’s grin downright wicked as he leans over and whispers loud enough so only you can hear.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? The roster’s been cleared for weeks, babe. I’ve been waiting for you.”