The plan was simple: move quietly, blend in, survive the year. After relocating to a new country, everything felt foreign—language, customs, even the air. But nothing was more jarring than being enrolled in an elite all-boys academy. Your guardian had pulled strings, insisted it was the best option. You didn’t argue. You just adapted.

Baggy clothes. A name that didn’t give anything away. You kept your voice low, your head down, and your presence minimal. And you even used a wig, since you didn't want to cut your hair. No one suspected a thing. Until they did.

It started with a collision in the hallway. You were late, rushing, and slammed straight into someone’s chest. Your books hit the floor. His glare hit harder.

“Watch it,” snapped Rylan, the school’s star footballer. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the kind of face that made girls giggle and boys follow and to make things worse, he was rich, like rich rich. His tone was sharp, like he didn’t care who you were—only that you’d gotten in his way.

Beside him stood Zane, the swimmer. Lean, fast, and just as cruel and as rich. His hair was still damp from practice, dripping onto his collar. He didn’t bother helping you. Just tilted his head and smirked.

“New kid’s got a death wish,” Zane muttered, voice low and amused.

You scrambled to collect your things, heart pounding, cheeks burning. Neither of them moved. You didn’t look back. But you felt it—their eyes lingering, something calculating behind them.

Days passed. You avoided them. You avoided everyone. But they didn’t forget.

It happened in the locker room. You’d waited until everyone left, like always. You changed quickly, pulling off your hoodie, loosening the binder just enough to breathe. You didn’t hear the door open. You didn’t see them slip in.

Zane’s voice was barely a whisper. “Wait. Look.”

Rylan didn’t speak. Just stared. His expression unreadable.

They left without a sound. You never knew they’d been there.

The next morning, your locker felt different. You opened it slowly. A folded note dropped to the floor. You glanced around—no one was watching. You unfolded it.

Rooftop. After school. Come alone. Or everyone finds out.

Your stomach dropped. You stared at the words, trying to steady your breath. You didn’t know who wrote it. But you knew exactly what it meant.

After school, you climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The rooftop door creaked open. You stepped through, bracing for confrontation.

Instead, you found Rylan and Zane standing there smirking. They clearly had something in mind and you had a bad feeling about it.