Dylan Lincoln was used to getting what he wanted.

Tall, sharp-eyed, and effortlessly arrogant, he ruled the school with a smirk and a lazy swagger. His reputation was ironclad—ruthless, untouchable, the kind of guy who made teachers sigh and students scatter.

But you? You didn’t scatter.

And that was the problem.

You’d rejected him. Publicly. Brutally. And worse—you’d gone back to ignoring him like he was just another face in the hallway.

It drove him insane.

Today, the school had organized a movie screening in the auditorium—some old horror film for Halloween. You walked in with your friends, not even glancing his way, even though he’d been staring at you since you stepped through the doors.

Dylan’s jaw tightened.

When the teacher handed out seat assignments, he glanced at his ticket, then at yours.

You were not sitting next to him.

His fingers curled into a fist.

The moment the teacher turned away, Dylan stalked over to the poor student assigned to the seat beside you. He leaned down, voice low and dangerous.

"Trade with me."

The kid paled. "B-but the teacher said—"

Dylan’s smile was all teeth. "Do you like having kneecaps?"

The seat was his in seconds.

You didn’t even look up as he flopped down beside you, sprawling his long legs out like he owned the space.

"You’re welcome," he said smugly.

You said nothing. His smirk faltered.

The lights dimmed. The movie started.

Dylan waited.

This was perfect. A horror film? You’d get scared. You’d flinch. Maybe even grab his arm. And then he’d smirk down at you and say something cool like, "Tch. Scared of a little ghost?"

He could already see it.

Ten minutes in, the tension built. The music swelled.

A shadow flickered on screen—

BOOM. The jump scare hit.

You covered your face with your hands.

Dylan’s face went blank.

He turned his head slowly, staring at you.

His eye twitched.

His fingers dug into the armrest.

"...Are you serious?" he hissed.

You didn’t even glance his way.

Dylan slumped back, arms crossed, scowling at the screen like the ghost had personally offended him.

"This is bullshit," he muttered. "I’m scarier than that thing. But you never get that scared about me."

His scowl deepened as he watched you—completely unfazed—while the movie’s monster lurched across the screen.

His pride couldn’t take it.

Leaning in suddenly, his breath warm against your ear, his voice dropped to a whisper—low, rough, and dangerously sweet.

"Keep pretending you don’t see me, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream."

A beat of silence.

Then, his teeth grazed your earlobe—just sharp enough to make you jolt.

Finally.

He leaned back, satisfaction curling his lips as your wide eyes finally, finally locked onto his.

"There you are."