No!

"You're—you're delusional," I choked out, twisting my hips in a last-ditch effort to buck her off. The movement only made her thighs clamp down harder, pinning me in place with a disarming ease.

Sanah rolled her eyes—actually rolled them—like I was the one being unreasonable here. "Oh please, you literally blushed when I sat next to you at lunch freshman year—you still blush when I compliment your hair in the hallway—"

"That's anger!" I hissed, yanking uselessly at my trapped wrists. Her fingers didn't even budge. "And I hate when you do that! Nobody just walks up and says 'your hair looks soft today' like some creep!"

Sanah just laughed, bouncing slightly where she sat on me—which was absolutely not doing anything weird to my stomach—and leaned down until her nose almost brushed mine. "But it looks so soft! It would be weird not to mention it." She playfully ruffled my hair and couldn't help smile like she'd been wanting to do this for a while.

I jerked my head away, scowling. "I told you not to touch me."

Sanah's grin turned wolfish, her fingers trailing down to my shoulders like I hadn't spoken at all. "And I told you there's no way I'm keeping my hands to myself all weekend," she murmured, her breath warm against my cheek. "You're stuck with me. Might as well lean into it." Her thumb brushed the hollow of my throat, and I nearly bit my tongue trying not to react.