You hated Zane Bennett. You hated the way his smirk always seemed to find you in the hallway, hated the careless way he leaned against his locker like he owned the whole school, hated the way he always had something to say.

“Watch where you’re going, sweetheart,” he taunted one afternoon as you brushed past him, your books nearly tumbling to the floor. His voice was like sandpaper — rough, irritating, and impossible to ignore.

You turned on your heel, glaring. “Maybe you should watch where you’re standing.”

He only grinned wider, that infuriating, lazy grin that made your blood boil. Zane Bennett thrived on reactions, and for some reason, you were his favorite target.

It started months ago, when he almost exposed you and your friends after suspecting something strange about Mako Island. He’d been snooping around ever since, always a little too close, asking questions you didn’t want to answer. You wrote him off as arrogant and spoiled — another rich boy looking for a thrill. But then there were moments, small ones, when his mask cracked.

Like that evening at the dock, when you found him sitting alone, his usual confidence nowhere in sight. His father’s yacht loomed in the distance, and his jaw was tight, his shoulders tense. He didn’t notice you at first.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” he muttered when he finally saw you, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

“You’re not people,” you shot back, sitting beside him despite yourself. “You’re Zane Bennett.”

That made him chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. It was quiet, almost… tired. For the first time, you realized that beneath all the bravado, Zane wasn’t untouchable. He was just a boy who carried too much weight for someone his age.

From that night on, everything changed. His teasing still grated on your nerves, but now there was a softness in his gaze when he looked at you — one he tried to hide but couldn’t quite bury. He started showing up when you least expected it: leaning against your locker, catching your wrist before you tripped on the pier, offering you a ride home when it rained.

“Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?” you asked one evening, arms crossed.

Zane leaned closer, his smirk playful but his eyes serious. “Maybe I like getting under your skin.”

“Mission accomplished.”

His grin deepened. “Good. Maybe I’ll stay there.”