Valentine stood frozen, the sunlight slipping through the curtains and painting gold across her face.
Her heart pounded violently against her chest. Words hovered on her lips but refused to come out.
"You're late."
The deep voice sliced through the silence. He didn't look up — his eyes stayed fixed on the stack of papers before him.
Thud.
Her heart skipped again.
Valentine didn't even bother to wonder how he'd known it was her. She was too focused on surviving the suffocating pressure in the air.
"I— I'm sorry, President. I forgot the time," she stammered, struggling to breathe properly.
He didn't reply. The sunlight caught the edge of his glasses as he adjusted them, his half-unbuttoned shirt revealing just enough of his chest to make her brain stop functioning.
"Smack!"
Her palm smacked her forehead before she could stop herself.
His head lifted, eyes locking on hers.
"Sit," he ordered, voice calm but heavy with authority.
Valentine took a deep breath and nodded, trying to keep her racing emotions in check. Why was she acting like some schoolgirl in love?
Her gaze darted around the room until it found a sofa near the window. She was halfway there when his voice stopped her again.
"Not there. Here."
He pointed to the seat directly across his desk.
Blinking, she changed course and sat. It was only then she realized how close they were — if not for the table, they would've been too close.
Her heart thudded again. What was she even thinking?
"I apologize if this sounds disrespectful, President, but… I have somewhere I need to be," she said finally, forcing her voice steady.
He gave a short grunt in response.
Seriously? That's it?
Valentine frowned. What's with him and one-word replies? Can't he just talk like a normal person?
"Did I upset you?" he asked suddenly, leaning back in his chair, one brow raised — his tone a mix of curiosity and mild sarcasm.
Her eyes widened. Did he just read my mind?
"N-no! Of course not," she said quickly, forcing a polite smile.
He sighed, turning his attention back to the papers.
"Come back tomorrow morning."
"What?!" Her brows shot up.
"You were late. I don't tolerate lateness. On your way out, give this to the disciplinary head. He'll assign your punishment."
"Wait— what?" Valentine shot to her feet. "I was barely fifteen seconds late! I apologized, and you didn't even let me explain—"
"Make that two more weeks added to your punishment," he interrupted, looking up now, his gaze sharp.
Valentine froze.
"First," he said, his tone low but clear, "you were disrespectful. Normally, that would cost you points. I didn't deduct them because of the… bond we're soon to share. Second, you trespassed into the Student Council building."
Her mouth fell open. "H-how did you even know—?"
"You don't need to know." He waved a hand dismissively. "Close the door before you leave. No—wait."
"Wait?" she repeated coldly.
"I'm leaving too."
"What? No, you can't! I have a meeting after this," she said, frowning.
"Meeting?" His tone shifted — darker now. "With who?"
"The Vice President." She crossed her arms.
"You won't go," he said flatly.
She blinked in disbelief. "Excuse me? You can't just decide that."
"I can," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Valentine glared at him. Who did he think he was?
Lifting her chin, she said, "That's not possible. I already promised him."
André stood up. The motion was slow — deliberate.
Valentine instinctively stepped back. Every step he took forward, she took one back, until her back hit the cold wall of his office.
Her breath caught. Her heartbeat thundered.
He leaned closer, his arms braced against the wall, caging her in. The space between them vanished, his breath fanning her ear.
Her knees felt weak. Her pulse screamed.
Then—
She pushed him.
"What— what do you think you were about to do?" she stuttered, refusing to meet his gaze.
André chuckled. The sound was low and teasing.
When she finally looked up, a smirk played at his lips.
"What were you thinking?" he asked, voice dripping with amusement. "I just wanted to whisper something to you."
Her jaw dropped.
She had seriously imagined something else?
Oh God.
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized the scene she'd just acted out in her mind.
André's smirk deepened. He'd seen everything — her flustered face, her wide eyes, her embarrassment.
Valentine wanted to disappear.
She was now officially… a laughingstock.