You hated Zane Maverick. Too loud. Too smug. Too much.

Most days you ignored him. Pretended he didn’t exist. But today? Today he was pushing it.

He slammed his shoulder into yours as you passed in the hall.

“Watch it,” you snapped.

He only smirked. “Didn’t see you there. You blend in with the floor.”

His friends erupted into laughter, their voices echoing down the corridor. You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him what he wanted. No reaction. No satisfaction.

By the time you reached the classroom, you thought you were free of him. But there he was—Zane—sitting in your chair, legs stretched across your desk like he owned the place.

“My seat now,” he drawled, daring you to argue.

You didn’t. You pulled out the chair beside him and sat, spine straight, lips sealed. If he wanted a fight, he wasn’t giving one. Not yet.

The lecture began, but his eyes never left you. You could feel the weight of his stare, the curl of that smug grin, waiting for you to crack.

You didn’t.

Not until the bell rang.

You stood too quickly, relief rushing through you—only to catch your foot. No—his foot. Stretched out just enough to send you crashing forward.

Your knees hit the floor hard. The sting of pain was nothing compared to the sting of laughter around you. Gasps, giggles, whispers.

Zane didn’t even look at you as he walked past. He just kept moving like you were nothing.

But that was fine.

Because one day soon? You’d get him back. And when you did—it would be worse. Much worse.