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Ezra’s eyes are on me. Or more specifically, on my breasts. He’s staring intently across the gap between our desks, directly at the spot on my chest where the locket lies cold against my skin, as if he can see it through the fabric of my shirt. That’s not possible though. He’s just being a perv and staring at my chest - even though I'm a really unimpressive A cup, nothing to gawk at, boys will still be boys. There’s no way that he could possibly be aware of the locket. I try to read his expression. Interest, amusement, hunger, inquisitiveness, curiosity, all mixed into one. And something more. Amusement, maybe? So I shift position, straightening my back and sitting bolt upright in my seat as I cross my arms over my chest. I stare back at him defiantly, in a way that I hope looks equal