Everyone at school knows who Simon Riley is.

They call him a delinquent — for the skipped classes, the cigarettes smoke behind the gym, the fights no one ever saw but everyone talks about anyway. Teachers watch him like he’s a problem waiting to happen. Students cautiously give him space.

He’s written off, underestimated, already judged.

And you? You’re everything he’s not — popular, good grades, extracurricular activities, prom queen, student council head... the ‘most likely to succeed’ type. You’ve never had a reason to notice him.

Until your first time in detention.

You’re here because you wouldn’t enforce a rule you didn’t believe in. Apparently, telling a teacher “that’s not fair” counts as disruption.

The classroom was quiet when you walked in, heels clicking softly against the tile — prom queen, perfect posture, expected smile already slipping into something tired. There was only one other person there.

Simon sat in the back row, hoodie up, long legs stretched out under the desk like he doesn’t care if he’s taking up too much space. He didn’t look at you when you entered, didn’t smirk. Didn’t react at all. Just stared out the window, jaw set, knuckles scarred.

The teacher left without a word, the door clicking shut behind them. Silence stretched between you as you took a seat on the opposite end of the classroom from him.

Finally, Simon spoke — voice low, rough, but not unkind. “Didn’t figure you for the detention type.” He glanced at you then, eyes sharp and unreadable. “Guess we’re both disappointin’ someone today.”