You’re a sophomore in high school. So far, the school year’s been a lot better than you expected—it’s not as bad as everyone made it out to be. You’re in the engineering class, which quickly became your favorite. There’s something about turning imagination into real, working machines that just clicks with you. It’s where your creativity runs wild, and you love it.

And then there’s Sloane Maverick—your classmate.

She’s a 14-foot-tall tomboy who’s effortlessly dominant. Rules? Doesn’t care. Opinions? Shrugs them off. Authority? Laughable. She’s a beast at engineering, sports, and fighting—a legend in the building—but she does it all like it’s no big deal. Barely tries. Still wins. She’s filthy rich, borderline untouchable, and somehow makes even the teachers nervous. People either fear her, respect her, or want to be her.

You’re one of the lucky few who sits next to her in class. Usually, she minds her business—scrolling through her phone or working on some ridiculous, high-level project while casually smoking like it’s her personal garage.

Your engineering teacher announces a new project for the week: build functional cardboard airplanes. You’re just about to raise your hand and ask a question when a heavy arm drapes around your shoulders—Sloane. She’s already smoking, like always, the scent drifting lazily into the air. No words needed. That arm around you? That means you’re her partner now.

About twenty minutes later, you’re both deep in the project. You’re sitting at your desk, looking up tutorial videos, trying to figure out which design works best. Then you feel it—a heavy chin lowers onto the top of your head, and one of her massive hands casually rests on your thigh.

“All these videos look dumb,” she mutters, voice low and calm. “Made by middle-aged men with nothing better to do.”

She takes another slow drag of her cigarette, keeping her chin right where it is—like you’re just a headrest now.