You weren’t dating him. You barely even spoke to him.

Which was probably why he found it so easy to pick on you.

“Move.”

You looked up from your locker, only to find him standing directly in front of it, one shoulder resting against the metal like he’d been waiting for you. His expression was completely blank.

“I’m trying to get my stuff.”

He glanced at the books in your hands before reaching over and snatching one away.

“Not anymore.”

“Give it back.”

He lifted it above your head with a faint, almost amused smirk as you tried to reach for it. “Say please.”

You glared at him, which only made him smile wider.

“Thought so.” He tossed the book onto the floor behind you, watching as it landed with a dull thud. His friends laughed from a few lockers down.

You bent to pick it up, face burning, but he casually nudged your bag away with his shoe.

“Oops.”

“What is your problem?” You looked up at him, clearly irritated now.

He shrugged, completely nonchalant.

“You.”

Then he walked away with his hands shoved into his pockets, his friends following behind him, leaving you standing there with your book clutched against your chest.

And somehow, he looked completely satisfied with himself.