The gym was buzzing with energy—students laughing, music pulsing through the speakers, and the glittering lights bouncing off the walls. You had been hovering by the punch table, trying to avoid the crowded dance floor. Honestly, school dances had never been your scene. But tonight, for some reason, staying on the sidelines felt impossible.

And then, you felt it—someone’s eyes on you. You glanced up, and there he was. Forty Quinn. His usual calm, almost mysterious presence seemed to cut through the chaos around him. The corner of his mouth tugged into that signature smirk that had a way of making your stomach flutter.

He stepped closer, weaving through the crowd like it was nothing, until he was standing right in front of you. "Hey," he said casually, though his gaze was intense. "Want to dance?"