The academy's arrogant, bare-chested, smirking devil of a boy stood there, a towel draped around his neck, sweat still glistening over his chest. His low-hanging training pants clung to his hips in a way that had the girls nearby practically drooling. And he knew it. Oh, he always knew it.
Blazar felt the prickle of irritation before he even opened his mouth.
"Well, well," he drawled, his hand shooting out to grip her arm. "Still walking around like you own the place?"
Blazar yanked against his hold, jaw tightening. "Still trying to trip people because you can't win a fight?"
Dante grinned, teeth flashing. "You almost fell. I was helping."
"Helping?" she hissed, glaring up at him. "By trying to make me face-plant into the pavement?"
He tilted his head, orange hair sticking slightly from the sweat. "You're welcome, by the way."
