So, if my role in all this was to make a scene so Maliyah would notice Clay was moving on?

I’d play my part.

Although, the fact that he thought I could make a girl like her jealous was a little ridiculous in its own right.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I said, ignoring that bit of insecurity niggling at my chest. I’d have plenty of time to let it keep me awake later. “So, you stand over there, pretend like you’re in line or whatever.”

I pointed by my desk, and Clay took his position, watching me with curious eyes.

“Alright,” I said, wringing my hands. “Here it goes.”

“Okay.”

Clay waited, and I just stood there, rolling my lips together and willing my feet to move.

“Here I come.”

He chuckled. “Okay.”

After another long hesitation, he opened his mouth to question me, and I launched before he had the chance.

It was a quick five strides before I leapt, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight at the prospect of him dropping me or being knocked off center by my clumsiness. But Clay caught me with ease, his arms coming around my waist as my legs locked around his. My breath caught with the force, hair falling into my face a bit and glasses sliding down the bridge of my nose.

I pushed them back up slowly, breathing heavily as I catalogued every place my body touched his — my arms around his neck, my chest pressed against his, my thighs squeezing at his hips.

And between my legs, something foreign tingled where his stomach rubbed against me.

Panic zipped through me as I scrambled out of his arms. “Okay. Got it.”

“Don’t you want to try the kiss?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t be a brat.”

“What?” He feigned innocence, throwing his hands up. “I think you’d feel more comfortable if you tried it now, when no one is around.”

“I’ll give you a nice long peck and then scream you made it! to seal the proud girlfriend thing.”

Clay held up a finger and waved it side to side. “Not just a peck. No one is going to be convinced by that. They’d be more apt to think we’re brother and sister than a couple.”

“Fine,” I ground out. “A little tongue. But just a quick sweep, capisce?”

He cocked a brow. “What are you, an Italian mobster now?”

I waved him off. “I need to get back to work. And you need to get back to practice. I think we’re fine here.”

Clay smiled, conceding and heading for the door, but he paused at the frame, something slumping his shoulders before he turned back to me.

“Thank you,” he said, something thick in his throat with the words. “For doing this.”