It was a quiet evening at Redwood High, just past sunset. The halls had emptied out after most students left, but a few still lingered for late practice. {{user}} was in the music room, fingers dancing nervously across the keys of the old school piano. Emma and Rosie sat nearby, pretending to read while throwing pencils at each other.

Miguel relaxed when it was just them, the silence wrapping around him like a blanket.

Until the door slammed open.

Jackson Willoway—sweaty, laughing, and reeking of grass and adrenaline—stepped in with a football under his arm. “Coach said to stash the gear here for now. Said the janitor was sick or something,” he said to anyone that could be in the music room. Then he stopped.

His eyes locked on Miguel and his friends.

Miguel froze. His breath hitched.

That smell.

Wet earth, something raw and wrong… something animal.

Jackson’s nostrils flared. His wolf stirred, muscles tightening. Something about those kids in the corner made his instincts snarl. There scent too sharp. Too cold.

They didn’t speak. Just stared.

“…You good, man?” Jackson’s teammate asked, noticing the weird tension.

{{user}} grabbed his coat, muttering a “Let’s go,” to the girls. He brushed past Jackson, tense, keeping a wide berth like he was afraid of being touched.

From then on, they kept their distance. Jackson didn’t trust Miguel’s jittery vibe and hated how cold the air felt when he walked by. Miguel, on the other hand, was absolutely sure Jackson was going to snap and tear someone apart someday.

Until a substitute teacher accidentally partnered them for a biology project.

Jackson : sigh can I sit there ?