The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 309

Chapter 309: 309 | My Best Subject Is Escalation [CASTLE BONUS]

She laughed, the sound bright and genuine. The bond carried her amusement alongside something warmer, anticipation for possibilities that had nothing to do with fugitive fantasies and everything to do with whatever space we might occupy across a cafeteria table without administrative doom hanging over us.

"We should probably get dinner," she said eventually, though her hand remained where it was.

"That would be the practical next step," I agreed.

Neither of us moved. The late afternoon light continued its slow slide across the windows, painting everything in gold and amber. Her skin caught the light in ways that made thinking difficult. Her eyes looked like fragments of summer sky. The cafeteria remained mostly empty around us, other students scattered at distant tables in conversations that couldn’t possibly carry the same tension as ours.

She tilted her head slightly, studying my face with the kind of focus that suggested she was reading something there I hadn’t consciously decided to show.

"Lukas."

"Yeah?"

"When this Percy situation is resolved..." She leaned forward. Her voice dropped into the register that bypassed rational thought entirely and connected directly to parts of my anatomy that had no business responding in public. "When we don’t have to worry about documentation fraud or regulatory violations or any of the other catastrophes currently threatening your academic career..."

She paused. Her thumb traced a deliberate line across my knuckles.

"I want to celebrate."

I managed to keep my expression neutral, which was genuinely impressive given what her proximity was doing to my pulse. "What kind of celebrating?"

"What kind of celebrating?"

"The kind that requires privacy. And time. And probably involves you learning exactly what I’m wearing under this training uniform."

The Oracle Feed pinged softly, flagging the comment for romantic progression tracking. My pulse jumped thirty beats per minute. The bond between us carried heat that had nothing to do with afternoon sunlight and everything to do with promises that made rational thought impossible.

"That’s a very specific kind of celebrating," I managed.

"I’m a very specific kind of person."

Her thumb traced across my knuckles, the touch casual and electric and completely unfair given our current location. The bond carried her satisfaction at my reaction, along with something deeper that felt like hunger barely held in check.

"Food," I said, because if we didn’t redirect this conversation immediately, I was going to do something that would get us both expelled for entirely different reasons than documentation fraud.

"Food," she agreed, though her thumb continued its movement against my skin. "But first, tell me about Professor Crane’s class."

Right. Isabelle Crane. The professor who wore domino masks to academic functions and looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine that catered specifically to authority figures with boundary issues.

"Professor Crane is..." I paused, searching for words that wouldn’t trigger Sloane’s territorial instincts. "Complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"Complicated like she teaches brand management while looking like someone who could personally rebrand the entire hero industry through superior intimidation tactics."

Sloane’s expression sharpened. "Is she attractive?"

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