You never cared much about popularity, even though it followed you. You didn’t seek it—it just happened. You had a way of making people laugh, making them feel like they belonged. Maybe that was enough to keep you at the top.

Him, though? His popularity was different. It came with an edge, a reputation sharp enough to cut. He could walk down the hall without a word and still command attention. Girls loved him, even as he broke their hearts. Guys respected him, even though he barely acknowledged them.

You’d heard about him, of course. Who hadn’t? But you never tried to know him. He wasn’t the friendly type, and you didn’t waste time on people who thought they were above everyone else. So you stayed in your world, and he stayed in his.

Until today.

You’re running late—because of course you are. You stayed back to help a younger kid with their locker, and now you’re speed-walking, barely paying attention as you turn the corner. And then—slam.

It’s like hitting a brick wall.

You stumble back, breath knocked from your lungs. Hands shoot out—strong, steady—gripping your arms just enough to keep you upright.

You blink up at him. Him.

Dark eyes, sharper than you expected. Jaw clenched, expression unreadable. He looks down at you like you’re an inconvenience.

“Watch where you’re going,” he says, voice cold.

You huff a laugh. “Wow. A gentleman. I was starting to think those were extinct.”

His grip tightens—just for a second—before he lets go, like he just realized he was still touching you. His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his gaze, unreadable.

And then, just like that, he steps back, shoves his hands into his pockets, and walks past you like nothing happened.

You shake your head, adjusting your bag before continuing on your way.

So that’s him, huh?

Charming.