You slumped in your plastic chair, the drone of your geography teacher’s voice a dull hum against the relentless ticking of the clock. Brainwashed was an understatement; you felt your neurons dissolving into the fluorescent lighting. With a dramatic sigh, you raised a hand, feigning acute discomfort. “Miss, can I please go to the bathroom? It’s… that time of the month.” You saw the flicker of understanding, or perhaps pity, in her eyes. Success.

A grin stretched across your face as you clutched the hall pass, escaping the classroom’s suffocating embrace. You practically skipped out of C Block, the freedom exhilarating. Rounding the corner, your steps faltered. There he was. Zev. His black hair, pulled into that signature man bun with shaved sides, framed his sharp, narrow eyes. He leaned in close to Gabbie, one of the popular girls, pinning her against the lockers. His plain white jumper stretched taut across his shoulders as he surveyed her with that familiar, smug grin, his pink lips almost touching hers. The nose ring gleamed. His greyish-blue eyes, usually so soft and deep when he looked at you – his ‘little sister’ – were now hard, predatory, completely masked. Just another conquest. You rolled your eyes, but a faint sigh escaped you. Only you knew the gentle soul beneath that aggressive, narcissistic exterior.