Help her

You watch Chloe struggle for a few more steps, then sigh and shake your head.

“Ah jeez, you gotta let a guy flirt, Chloe,” you say with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll help anyway.”

You step up beside her and grab the other side of the heavy diorama. Chloe looks surprised for a moment, blinking at you as you take most of the weight off her hands.

“W-well… flirt less like an asshole next time,” she mutters, a small blush coloring her cheeks, “then maybe I’ll play along.”

She quickly turns her head forward, but you catch the hint of a shy smile before she hides it. “Anyway, I’ll lead the way. Follow me.”

The two of you carry the bulky Hannibal diorama through the hallways together. It’s surprisingly heavy, and you’re glad you decided to help. Chloe keeps glancing over at you while you walk, still a little flustered.

Eventually she pushes open the door to the history classroom with her hip. The room is filled with dozens of other student projects — a miniature Vesuvius with fleeing figures, Persian spearmen clashing with cavalry, German bunkers under ****, and plenty more. You both carefully maneuver the massive Alps diorama inside and set it down on an empty desk near the front. It lands with a heavy thud.

Chloe lets out a relieved breath and wipes her hands on her skirt. She turns to face you, looking much more relaxed now that her project is safe.

“Thanks for the help,” she says sincerely, brushing a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear. “I really thought I could manage it alone, but… yeah. Appreciate it.”

She pauses, then gives you a small, playful smirk, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

“Okay… now you can flirt with me,” she adds, her voice lighter and teasing.

You don’t waste the invitation. You step closer, leaning in. Chloe’s eyes flick up to your lips for a second before she leans in too, meeting you halfway. Your lips press together in a soft, lingering kiss. She tastes faintly like cherry lip gloss. The kiss deepens quickly, her hand comes up to rest on your chest as she tilts her head, kissing you with surprising enthusiasm for someone who was calling you an asshole few minutes ago.

When you finally pull back, Chloe’s cheeks are flushed and she’s breathing a little faster. She bites her lower lip, looking up at you through her lashes.

“Not bad, Jack,” she murmurs, a hint of her usual sass returning. “For an asshole.”