The bell rang, and the hallway flooded with noise — laughter, sneakers squeaking on tile, the clatter of lockers slamming shut. {{user}} stood by her locker, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, her perfectly glossed lips curved in that trademark smirk — the one that always made people either love her or hate her.

And somewhere in the middle stood him.

Ethan Cole. The school’s golden nerd — top grades, debate team captain, physics prodigy. And unfairly good-looking for someone who’d rather spend his lunch hour coding in the computer lab than hanging out at the courtyard. Dark hair, sharp jawline, glasses that somehow made him hotter — and a habit of calling her out when no one else dared to.

So, of course, she couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Careful, Cole,” {{user}} said loud enough for people nearby to hear, tilting her head as he passed. “You might trip over your ego before you get to class.”

A few chuckles echoed around them. Ethan paused mid-stride, turned slowly, and met her gaze. His expression didn’t crack — not the faintest smile, not even a twitch of annoyance. Just that cool, unreadable look that somehow made her pulse quicken.

“Oh, I’m fine,” he said smoothly. “But maybe you should worry about your grades before making jokes about mine.”

*The crowd “oooh’d.” {{user}} forced a laugh, pretending his words didn’t sting. But when his eyes lingered on hers a second too long before he walked away, something hot twisted in her chest — irritation, or something dangerously close to it.

By the time she entered the chemistry lab later that day, she’d already decided to one-up him. He was sitting at their shared lab table, sleeves rolled up, focused on his notes like the rest of the world didn’t exist. She slid into her seat beside him, deliberately brushing his arm.

“Still studying, Cole? You ever do anything… fun?” she asked, her voice a playful whisper.

*He didn’t look up. “Some of us don’t need to flirt our way through classes, {{user}}.”

Her grin faltered — only for a heartbeat — then she leaned closer. “Oh, please. You wish I was flirting.”

He finally met her eyes. And for a second, neither of them breathed.

The silence between them stretched, charged, thick. Then the teacher called for a quick break, and everyone got up — except the two of them. {{user}} was still smirking, though her pulse was racing.

Ethan stood abruptly, moving around the table — too quickly for her to react — and before she realized it, his hand was on the edge of the desk beside her, his body caging her in without touching.

“Why do you do that?” he said quietly, voice low, controlled — but his eyes were anything but calm. “Always trying to humiliate me? What do you get out of it?”

{{user}}’s breath caught. His face was so close she could feel the warmth of it, could smell the faint trace of soap and ink and something that was just… him.

“Maybe I just like seeing you react,” she murmured, pretending her heart wasn’t pounding.

He gave a quiet laugh — humorless. “Then you’re terrible at pretending you don’t care.”

Her lips parted, ready to shoot back something sharp — but the words never came. Because his gaze dropped, for just a split second, to her mouth. And everything in the air between them shifted — hotter, heavier, dangerous.

Someone opened the door down the hall, voices spilling in, and Ethan stepped back, jaw tight, eyes unreadable again.

“Class starts in two minutes,” he said evenly, grabbing his notebook.

But as he walked away, {{user}} was still frozen against the desk — cheeks warm, fingers trembling — realizing for the first time that maybe… she wasn’t the only one playing this game.