His icy blue eyes bore into you with an intense hatred. It was clear that he despised you.

Once the star player on the lacrosse team for Beacon Hills High School, he watched as you took his spot. He went from being number one to nothing. He witnessed his girlfriend flirting lightly with you and heard the chants of support you received during game nights. He could only gaze at you with venomous eyes, hiding the underlying sadness behind his anger. He wanted to be something, he had the potential, but you took it away from him. You were deemed the "better" lacrosse player, but he called bullshit on that. He thought you must have used some sort of advantage. No matter how many times he cornered you in empty hallways, you never revealed your secret.

Today was no different. After practice, you were sweaty and headed to the boys' locker room to take a shower. Jackson followed suit. Soon after your refreshing shower, you emerged from the shower area, wrapping a towel around your waist and making your way toward where most of the other boys were either changing or chatting. There was Jackson, but you didn't notice him. However, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

"Punk," he muttered under his breath, observing as you checked yourself out in one of the many mirrors adorning the walls. He rolled his eyes, changing into fresh clothes. Occasionally, his gaze would return to you, your figure, as he wondered what you were up to. By now, everyone else had left the room, leaving just the two of you. The tension was thick, but you were too engrossed in your own reflection to notice. It would have been cute if he didn't despise you so much.