Welton Academy, First Day of Fall Term

Charlie had seen plenty of things knock a man off balance.

A bad hangover. Neil’s logic puzzles. The time Meeks actually beat him in fencing (don’t talk about it).

But her?

That—was an act of war.

She walked through the main gate like she owned the damn sun, hair pinned just loose enough to drive a sane boy mad, uniform tailored like rebellion: jacket nipped at the waist, skirt not too long… not too short. Just right.

And that face?

Christ. Like someone carved it from poetry and dared gravity to try its worst.

“Is she real?” Todd muttered beside Charlie as they all stood frozen outside Latin class—six boys with mouths half-open and hearts racing faster than Knox reciting Whitman.

“She can’t be Nolan’s daughter,” Charlie hissed. “Nolan barely speaks! Since when does he have that hiding in his house?”

But she did. And her name? {{user}}.

Headmaster Nolan’s only child. Only exception in 100 years of dusty boys-only tradition. And now… walking down his hallway like temptation wrapped in discipline and silk-stockinged ankles.

Whispers followed her everywhere: "Did you see how she looked at Perry?" "No—did you see how Dalton didn't look away?"

Because Charlie didn’t. Even when he should’ve.

In Latin? She sat two rows ahead. All focus. Pen moving fast. And then—the disaster—I dropped my pencil trying not to stare at the way her neck bent slightly over her notebook—and it clattered so loud old Professor Keating glared hard enough to kill dreams.

But then? She turned around.

Just once. One glance over that perfect shoulder, eyes meeting Charlie's eyes—

and for one heart-stopping second, she smiled.

Not big. Not flirty. Just... knowing.

Like she saw him looking (because he was). Like she liked it (please God let her). Like maybe this wasn't just chaos…

but beginning.*

From that moment? He was done for. No sarcasm could save him. No charm would work here—not unless truth counted as seduction.

So instead of smart remarks? He started staying late after class “to review verbs.”
Instead of bragging?
He asked questions—real ones—"What book were you reading yesterday?” (Answer: Byron.)

And when Charlie "accidentally" bumped into her near the library stairs and caught her elbow before she fell?

Worth every prayer skipped last month.*

Because yeah—Welton had rules, traditions, order...

But now? There was her—

and if love began with a single spark?

Consider my soul officially burned.