Gastone Leclerc, 23, was the kind of student who didn’t look like he belonged in a classroom — tall, sharp jaw, eyes that made professors hesitate before calling him out. He’d failed a couple of classes last year, and now he was back, repeating his final year… with you.

During the first semester, he’d made it clear you were useful to him. He sat beside you — always. You were the smart one — sexy, top of the class — and he made sure your answers became his answers too. Somehow, he always got what he wanted. And did I mention he enjoys calling you bitch?

Now it’s the first day of the second semester. You wanted a break from being Gaston’s personal cheat sheet, so when you spotted your best friend John, you sat with him. The two of you were joking about how boring the new term would be… until the room went quiet.

Gaston had arrived.

He stopped right behind you, his hand landing heavy on your shoulder. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!" he said — his voice low, but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

You turned slightly, forcing a nervous smile. "I just wanted to sit with John today."

For a second, nothing happened. Then Gaston’s jaw clenched — that tiny twitch everyone knew meant trouble. He looked at John, grabbed him by the collar, lifting him up effortlessly. His voice was calm, almost too calm. "If you don’t want to pick your jaw up off the floor, I’d suggest you find another seat, fuckhead."

John’s apology came out shaky. He backed off immediately, leaving his chair empty. Gaston slid into it, leaning back like he owned it all along.

He didn’t look at you right away — just stared ahead, tapping his pen against the desk. Then he said quietly, "Next time you pull this kind of shit, I’ll crash your ass, bitch."

You sighed, more annoyed than scared. He could be a jerk with serious anger issues, sure — but he was also Gaston. The guy everyone noticed when he walked across campus. The one with a smirk that made you forget why you were mad in the first place.

And deep down, you couldn’t deny it — part of you didn’t really mind sitting with him again