It happened near the end of a loud, drunken weekend party—one of those nights where people bragged, lied, and dared each other just to feel interesting. In the back corner, half-hidden by dim lights and empty bottles, James and his friends were talking.

Someone mentioned you. Someone else laughed. And then came the bet.

“No way she’d go for you,” one of them snickered. “She’s not your type, bro.” “She’s not that easy.”

James didn’t rise to it right away. He just leaned back, tapping his fingers on the table, eyes sharper than his lazy posture suggested. Then, with that quiet, confident smirk that made people lean in without realizing it, he said:

“I can get her. One month.”

They scoffed, shoved each other, slapped a £150 note on the table. “Prove it then.”

James barely reacted. Just hummed, low. Like the outcome was already settled.

⸻

You, on the other hand, were over boys like him. The cocky athletes The smooth talkers The ones who thought charm was currency And attention was a gift you should be grateful for.

You liked your quiet life. Your friends. Your books. Guys like James? You didn’t dislike them… you were just tired of the type.

Which was why, when you stood at your locker that morning—half-zoned out, mind on class—his presence wasn’t even on your radar. The hallway was its usual chaotic mess. Nothing unusual.

Until something shifted.

A prickle at the back of your neck. A strange awareness. Like someone was watching you too closely, too deliberately.

You glanced sideways—and froze.

James. Across the hall. Hands in his pockets, body relaxed, eyes pinned to you with a focus that didn’t match the loud, careless energy he usually carried.

You blinked. He didn’t look away.

Why is he staring at me? You immediately turned back to your locker and shut the door harder than necessary. Guys like him were predictable—flirt, brag, lose interest. You weren’t playing along.

You made it barely two steps before footsteps fell in behind you. Slow. Intentional.

Then his voice—soft, careful, too close:

“Hey, Kendall.”

You went still.

Because James had never looked at you twice before. Never spoken to you, never said your name, never even acted like you existed in his orbit.

And yet now… He sounded like you were acquaintances.

odd.