Tina pushes through the cafeteria doors with Tyler's hand in hers, and the room tightens. She feels it before she sees it — the way conversations don't stop so much as bend, voices dropping half a register, heads turning in sequence like dominoes. Fluorescent light buzzes overhead, catching the sheer fabric of her crop top, and she knows exactly what they're seeing. The outline of her nipples. The curve of her waist. The way her blue ripped jeans hug every inch of her ass.

She doesn't look at them. She looks at Tyler.

His hand is warm and steady in hers, but she can feel the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his breathing has gone shallow. She squeezes once. Reassuring. Then she leads him through the maze of tables, past the cluster of girls who whisper behind their hands, past the guys who watch with a mix of confusion and hunger.

They don't matter. Only he does.

She pulls out a chair at their usual table — the one near the back, tucked against the wall where he always sits with his friends — and pushes him gently into it. He looks up at her, eyes wide, his mouth already opening to stutter out something. She doesn't let him finish. She just swings her leg over his lap and settles down, her thighs pressing against his hips, her arm looping around his neck.

His hands find her waist automatically, then slide to her hips, then stop. His face is red. His ears are burning.

"T-Tina—"

She smiles. Soft. Just for him. "Hi."

His friends are staring. Dave, on the other side of the table, has his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. The other two — she hasn't learned their names yet — are doing that thing where they pretend not to stare but keep sneaking glances.

Tyler's thumbs trace small circles on her hip bone. She feels it through the thin denim. Feels the warmth of his palms, the slight shake in his fingers. He's still getting used to this. To her. To the fact that she chose him.

She leans closer, her lips brushing his ear. "You OK?"

He nods. Stutters out a "y-yeah." Then swallows. "J-just... everyone's... l-looking."

"Let them look." She pulls back just enough to meet his eyes. "I want them to see."

His breath catches. She watches it happen — the way his chest stills, the way his pupils dilate, the way his hands tighten on her hips. He's so easy to read. She loves that about him. The way every feeling lives right on the surface, no armor, no games.

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Light. Quick. Just a promise.

"Hey. Nerd."

The voice comes from behind her. She doesn't need to turn around to know who it is. She'd recognize that smug tone anywhere — the same jocks who'd been giving Tyler shit earlier. The ones who thought standing up to them was a joke.

Tyler's body goes rigid under hers. His hands stop moving.

She turns her head slowly, keeping her arm looped around his neck, keeping her weight settled on his lap. There are three of them. Guys in letterman jackets, the kind who've been told their whole lives that they matter. The one in front — Jake, she thinks his name is — has a smirk plastered across his face like he's already won something.

"Cute little setup you got here," he says, nudging the guy next to him. "Tyler finally got a girl to sit on his lap. Must be a charity case."

The other guys laugh. It's the kind of laugh that's supposed to sting.

Tina smiles. It's not a nice smile. "Can I help you?"

"Nah, we're good." Jake steps closer, arms crossed, looking down at her like she's a math problem he's already solved. "Just wondering what a girl like you is doing with a guy like him. You could do better."

"Could I?"

He shrugs. "I mean, look at him. He can barely string a sentence together. What's he gonna do for you?"

She feels Tyler shift beneath her. Feels the tension in his thighs, the way his hands have gone still on her hips. He's waiting. For her to laugh it off. For her to agree. For her to realize this was all some huge mistake and get off his lap and walk away.

She doesn't.

She turns back to face him fully, ignoring the jocks, ignoring the cafeteria, ignoring everything except the way his eyes are searching hers. She cups his face with both hands. His skin is warm. A little stubbly. His breath hitches when she touches him.

"You don't know anything," she says, and her voice is low enough that only he can hear it. "About me. About him. About what we do when no one's watching."

She leans in and kisses him.

It's not a quick kiss. It's not a peck. It's her mouth on his, soft and slow and full of everything she can't say in front of an audience. His lips part beneath hers. His hands slide up her back, pulling her closer, and she feels the shudder that runs through him when her tongue traces his bottom lip.

Someone whistles. Someone laughs. She doesn't care.

She pulls back slowly, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm on his mouth. "You good?"

He nods. His eyes are dazed. His face is the color of a fire alarm.

She turns back to the jocks. They're still standing there, but the smirk has faded. Now they just look confused.

Jake's jaw tightens. "Whatever. It's not gonna last. Girls like you always come back to guys like us."

She tilts her head. Considers him. Then she shifts on Tyler's lap, pressing her breasts against his chest, and lets her voice go breathless — the kind of voice that makes guys pay attention.

"You don't even know how good my boyfriend pleasures me."

Jake's face flickers. Confusion. Doubt.

"How hard he makes me come."

The guy next to Jake shifts his weight. The third one looks at the floor.

She lets the words settle. Lets them land. Then she smiles — slow, predatory, certain — and says, "You can never add up."

The silence stretches. One second. Two.

Jake opens his mouth. Closes it. Shakes his head and mutters something under his breath, then turns and walks away. His friends follow. The crowd around them starts to dissolve, conversations picking back up, the cafeteria returning to its normal hum.

Tina doesn't watch them go. She keeps her eyes on Tyler.

His hands are shaking. His breath is uneven. His face is so red she thinks he might actually combust.

"T-Tina..." he stutters. "You... you d-didn't have to..."

"Yes I did." She brushes a strand of hair from his forehead, letting her fingers trail down the side of his face. "No one talks about you like that. Not when I'm around."

He swallows. His Adam's apple bobs. "Th-they're gonna... they're gonna t-talk."

"Let them." She shifts her weight, settling deeper into his lap, and feels his breath catch when her thigh presses against him. "I want them to know."

"K-know what?"

She leans in. Her lips brush his ear. Her voice drops to a whisper.

"That I'm yours. And you're mine."

His hands tighten on her hips. His breath shudders out of him. And when she pulls back to look at him, there's something new in his eyes — not just shyness, not just nerves. Something bolder. Something that makes her heart skip.

"S-say that again," he whispers.

< p>She smiles. "I'm yours. And you're mine."

He kisses her. Not shy. Not hesitant. His hand slides into her hair, angling her head, deepening the kiss until she's gasping against his mouth. She feels the hard length of him pressing through his jeans, feels her own body responding, heat pooling low in her belly.

She breaks the kiss, breathless, and rests her forehead against his. "We should probably eat something."

He laughs. It's a quiet sound, almost surprised. "R-right. Food."

She stands reluctantly, her thighs aching from the pressure, and pulls him up with her. His hand finds hers again, warm and steady, and she leads him toward the food line with the whole cafeteria watching.

She doesn't look back.

She doesn't need to.

She's already got everything she wants.