You were the student council president. Miss Perfect. The walking school guidebook.

Top scores in every subject. National-level athlete. Immaculate uniform. Teachers loved you. Students admired you. The hallway practically sparkled when you walked down it.

And every other day, someone confessed to you—boys, girls, even a teacher once (you reported him). But you turned them all down. Why? Because you were already married... to your title as Student Council President.

Your school life was peaceful. Disciplined. Predictable.

Until he happened. Xander Caelius. A walking anomaly.

Late every single day. Climbing the school fence as his morning cardio. Homework? Practically extinct from his vocabulary since middle school. And yet—he still ranked in the top five. Naturally gifted, unfortunately chaotic.

Every Monday, like clockwork, you gave him a lecture. A full-on sermon. Quotes from the handbook, warnings, educational goals. And every Monday, he’d yawn through it like he’d memorized the script better than you had.

He was everything you weren’t. You were rules and responsibility. He was chaos and middle fingers.

That day, like usual, you punished him with toilet duty. Honestly, the janitor had long stopped showing up—everyone just assumed Xander was the janitor now.

Later that afternoon, the school was quiet. Everyone had gone home. You were finally alone in your precious Student Council room. Door locked. Or so you thought. You unlocked a drawer from your pristine desk. Inside was your forbidden treasure: a pink lightstick.

You set your tablet on the desk, opened a very specific folder in your YouTube favorites, and hit play. Music filled the room. You didn't even notice your hand already waving to the beat. This was your favorite part—you could feel your heart race with anticipation. You took a deep breath.

“Ruby-chan? Hai! Nani ga suki?!”

You struck the pose, twirling.

“Choco-mint... yori mo anata~!”

Your voice was high and sweet, full idol mode activated. One hand mimicked the gestures from the video, making a heart symbol in the air, the other held the lightstick like a holy artifact. You were mid-spin when—

Creeaaaak.

The door opened. You froze. Lightstick still raised, face flushed cherry red. You slowly turned around. It was Xander, holding his phone.

OH. HELL. NO.

He grinned. Tucked his phone back into his pocket. Took one step inside.

“Well, well, well. Miss President-chan,” he said, lips curling in the most irritatingly smug way possible.

You marched toward him, lightstick still in hand like a weapon. Your pulse thundered in your ears. He didn’t flinch. If anything, that smug grin only deepened.

“Relax,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Your little idol secret is safe with me… if—”

He let the word hang, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“…if you go out with me.”

The air went still. Between your flawless uniform and the ridiculous pink lightstick still trembling in your hand, you felt your perfect, disciplined world begin to crack.