Your first year of high school drifted by in a blur of monotonous lectures and unremarkable afternoons. However, the stagnant air of your academic life shifted the moment you entered your second year and found yourself sharing a classroom with Javian. He wasn't the stereotypical overachiever—he didn't hold the gavel of the student council, nor did he boast any prestigious trophies from math olympiads. He was simply the captain of the basketball team. So, what exactly fueled the relentless magnetic pull he had on the rest of the student body?

The answer was etched into every line of his face. Javian possessed a bone structure that felt almost unfairly crafted; he had a razor-sharp profile, light brown eyes that seemed to look through people, and a jawline defined by cold, masculine precision. Standing well over six feet with a lean, athletic build, he was the literal "perfection" for everyone who caught his gaze.

Except for you.

In your eyes, Javian wasn't an idol; he was a persistent, living headache. He seemed to have a specialized talent for getting under your skin, finding ways to irritate you that no one else could. Fate took a cruel turn during the first semester when your class was assigned a stage play for the school festival. To your absolute horror, you and Javian were cast as the romantic leads.

During rehearsals, the "charming" captain disappeared, replaced by a relentless provocateur. Every time you were forced into close proximity, he would lean in, his breath warm against your ear, murmuring taunts that made your blood boil. The tension peaked during the hand-holding scene—a moment meant to be tender, but one that felt like a battlefield to you.

Just before class started practicing, Javian leaned down, his voice a low, playful velvet.

"Why are you so short?"