Liam sat cross-legged on his bed, phone abandoned beside him, as the same phrase from earlier kept replaying in his mind like a broken record:
If you want him so bad, seduce him.
Seduce. The word sounded… scandalous. Dangerous, even. But to Liam, it meant something entirely different from what the forum user probably intended. He wasn't thinking about anything wild or indecent. His heart wasn't that corrupted.
For Liam, "seducing Micah" meant… maybe getting him to smile. Or, if he was really lucky, convincing Micah to let him touch those abs. Oh, and a kiss. Just one kiss, like he did in his dream and his touch in his dream . That was it. Nothing more.
He hugged a pillow tightly against his chest, cheeks flushed crimson. "If I can just… let him hold me tight like without clothes on and maybe—maybe feel those muscles once… I'll stop thinking like this," he muttered to himself, though even he didn't believe it.
The real problem? Micah barely acknowledged his existence when Leo wasn't around. And now that Leo was gone for the weekend, Liam felt like a ghost drifting through his own house.
So, he needed a plan. Something that would make Micah notice him without making him look like a desperate idiot. Something that screamed harmless, cute, and… irresistible.
His gaze drifted to the corner of his closet where an oversized hoodie hung unused. It was bubblegum pink, soft as clouds, with an attached hood shaped like floppy puppy ears—a gift from Leo that Liam never wore because he thought it made him look like a child.
But now? Now it felt like a secret weapon.
"Cute equals likable, right?" Liam reasoned, already tugging the hoodie over his head. The fabric swallowed him whole, the sleeves dangling past his fingers, the hood drooping adorably with its silly ears with his hair tied up like a pony tail. Paired with his slim-fit shorts and fluffy socks, he looked like… well, a lost puppy.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and winced. "Do I look cute… or just stupid?" He pulled at the hem, adjusted the hood, tilted his head this way and that. Maybe it worked. Maybe Micah would at least look at him this time instead of through him.
Now for the excuse. Because Liam wasn't about to waltz outside in a pink hoodie with no reason whatsoever.
That's when inspiration struck—his English workbook lying open on the desk. Multiple-choice questions, pages and pages of them. He groaned just looking at them. English wasn't his strongest subject, and Micah… well, Micah was good and basically best in it made Liam jealous. Even though it wasn't a strong reason but at least it was a reason.
"Perfect," Liam whispered, clutching the workbook like a lifeline. "He'll have to help me. And while he does…" He felt his face heat up. "Maybe I can sit close. Close enough to… maybe…" His imagination ran wild for a second before he shook it off violently. "Stop. Stop. Just… ask for help. That's it."
With his heart pounding like a drum, Liam grabbed a pen, the workbook, and tried not to overthink the fact that he looked like a walking cotton candy ball with puppy ears.
The soft hum of the house faded as Liam padded downstairs, each step making his nerves spike higher. From the faint sound of splashing water, he knew where Micah was. Outside. At the pool. Of course. Where else would he be on a weekend afternoon?
Pushing open the glass door, Liam stepped into the sunlight, his hoodie instantly feeling ten degrees too warm. The sight that greeted him nearly made him retreat back inside.
Micah was stretched out on a deck chair, a towel draped carelessly over his waist, his golden skin still damp from a recent swim. His phone rested lazily in one hand while the other shielded his eyes from the sun. He looked… unfairly good. Like something out of a summer magazine.
Liam clutched his workbook tighter, his breath catching in his throat. Oh God. Abort mission. Abort—
Too late. Micah's head turned, those sharp emerald green eyes locking onto him. A flicker of something—curiosity? amusement?—danced in them as they swept over Liam's outfit.
"…What are you wearing?" Micah asked, his voice smooth, edged with faint disbelief.
Liam froze, cheeks flaming. "Uh—just… clothes?" he stammered.
Micah's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Pink. With puppy ears? And isn't it hot for you to wear this"
"It's… comfy," Liam muttered defensively, tugging at the hood as if to hide. "And—it's not weird."
Micah tilted his head, studying him for a beat longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his phone. "If you say so."
Liam swallowed hard. Okay. Survived phase one. Sort of. Now… excuse. Right.
"I, um…" He stepped closer, forcing his legs to move despite every cell in his body screaming to run. "I actually… needed help. With English." He lifted the workbook like a shield. "You're… good at it, right?"
That made Micah glance up again, one brow arching slightly. "English?"
"Yeah." Liam nodded quickly, words tumbling out in a rush. "Just… some multiple-choice questions. They're kinda hard. And I thought maybe… you could… you know… help?"
Micah studied him in silence for a long moment, and Liam swore he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Then, finally—"Sure."
Liam blinked. "R-Really?"
Micah shrugged. "Why not. Better than scrolling through memes." He sat up, stretching languidly before gesturing to the chair beside him. "Sit."
Liam's heart did a dangerous flip. Okay. Okay, play it cool. Just… sit. Breathe. Don't look at his abs. Don't—oh God, they're right there.
He perched on the edge of the chair, hoodie pooling around him like a safety blanket, and set the workbook on his lap. His hands trembled slightly as he flipped to the page with the most confusing questions.
Micah leaned closer to glance at it, his damp hair falling forward, brushing against his forehead. The faint scent of chlorine and his clean, masculine cologne drifted over Liam, making his head spin.
"Question one," Micah murmured, his voice low, smooth, almost lazy. "'Choose the correct verb form…' Okay, what do you think?"
Liam stared at the page like it was written in alien code. He had no idea what he thought. Not when Micah's shoulder was this close. Not when his skin looked like sunlit bronze and his towel had slipped just slightly lower on his hips.
Focus, damn it!
"I… think… C?" Liam squeaked.
Micah's lips quirked. "Wrong. Try again." He nudged the pen toward him with a long, slender finger. "Come on, genius. Use your brain."
Liam gripped the pen so hard it nearly snapped. His brain was melting, not working. Every time Micah leaned in, their knees brushed lightly, and Liam's heart performed Olympic-level gymnastics.
They went through five questions like that—Micah explaining patiently, his tone calm but laced with the kind of confidence that made Liam want to crawl into the ground and simultaneously never leave his side.
By question six, Liam's strategy shifted. Okay… maybe if I lean a little closer… like, just casually…
He inched forward under the pretense of seeing the page better, his oversized hood drooping until one floppy ear brushed against Micah's arm. Micah stilled, glancing sideways at him.
"…You always sit this close when you study?"
Liam froze, heat flooding his face. "Uh—I just… can't see well…" he lied weakly.
Micah hummed, a sound so low it vibrated in Liam's bones, before returning to the page. But his eyes lingered a fraction longer, as if trying to figure him out.
Liam, on the other hand, was screaming internally. This is working. I'm close. I can smell him. I can—oh God, his arm just brushed mine.
He tightened his grip on the pen, focusing on the paper, because if he looked at Micah now, even for a second, he might actually explode.
And yet, beneath all the chaos in his chest, a spark of giddy triumph flickered. He'd done it. He was here. Beside Micah. Talking. Almost touching.
Step one of his ridiculous plan? Complete.
What came next… was a whole different battlefield.