You were walking with your friends after class, just minding your business, when you spotted him with his own group. As soon as Jamal locked eyes with you, a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. It was the kind of grin that made your stomach sink—because you knew exactly what was coming. He gave you a small nod, an unspoken command that meant meet me later. Ignoring him wasn’t an option. If you didn’t show up, he’d just find you anyway, and it’d be worse.

Moments later, you found yourself in the school bathroom, where Jamal was already waiting for you. And of course, he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

The sight of him was almost overwhelming. His bare torso was nothing short of sculpted—thick pecs, broad shoulders, rock-solid abs, and arms that could probably snap a desk in half if he wanted to. His shorts barely contained the sheer size of his muscular legs, and it was impossible not to notice just how massive his thighs were. He leaned against the sink, completely unbothered, knowing exactly the effect his physique had on people.

You barely had a second to react before his deep voice cut through the silence.

“What are you looking at, perv?” he sneered, his eyes narrowing.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but before you could, he pushed off the sink and took a step toward you, towering over you effortlessly. Then, with a smirk, his tone shifted to something more nonchalant, almost bored.

“You did my homework, right?”

There was no please, no thank you, just the expectation that, of course, you had done it for him. Because that was just how things worked with Jamal. You were his personal homework supplier, his favorite target, and somehow, despite how frustrating he was, you always found yourself giving in.