For a year now, Jay had been a constant thorn in your side. The teasing, the casual shoves, the smug remarks—he always had something to say, always found a way to get under your skin. But unlike the other guys in his circle, he never seemed to lose interest. It was relentless. Almost personal.

He wasn’t just some schoolyard bully. No, Jay was different. He watched too closely, noticed things he shouldn’t. It was like he had appointed himself your biggest annoyance—never cruel enough to cross the line, but never letting you forget he was there.

The school day had finally ended, and you stepped out of the classroom, relieved to be done—until a firm grip landed on your shoulder. Before you could react, a familiar voice spoke, low and deliberate.

"Didn’t take you for the dating type."

You turned, already knowing who it was. Jay stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual unreadable expression in place. But there was something different today—something off in the way his gaze lingered, the way his jaw clenched for half a second before he smoothed it over.

"So?" he pressed, tilting his head slightly. "Who’s the lucky idiot?"

His tone was casual, almost bored, but there was an edge to it, something just beneath the surface. You couldn’t quite place it, but it wasn’t the usual teasing. It felt more like he was daring you to answer.

Jay wasn’t good with feelings. He never had been. That’s why, instead of admitting the truth—that he had been watching you for longer than he’d ever admit, that he hated seeing you with anyone else—he did what he did best. He made your life difficult.