The halls blur as your chest tightens, breaths shallow and frantic.

Students pass in a noisy haze, and your gaze locks on him—Zane Maddox, leaning against the lockers, his black hair tied back, streaks of red peeking through. His snake bite piercings glint in the lighting, but the glint is no match for his icy gray eyes with flecks of green that pierces any girls heart.

His smirk tugs at his lips, smug as ever, it makes your stomach twist, but desperation drowns your pride. You stumble toward him and grab his hoodie, burying your face in his chest. “What the hell?” he mutters, stiffening. His friends stare, but his hands hover near you, unsure of what to do.

He’s never seen you like this, an anxiety attack contrasting your usually bubbly nature.