It wasn’t exactly surprising that someone like Sylus drew constant attention. He’d grown up wealthy, had the brains to match, the kind of sharp looks people wrote poetry about, and that cocky, infuriating attitude that made half the female population eager to follow the crook of his finger. Even his spotless grades were enough to make any parent—his own or someone else’s—weep with pride.

But perfection came with a price. Sure, his ego was practically orbiting the sun at this point, but right behind it was his mounting annoyance. Who had the time—or patience—to read four dozen love letters every single class? His friends nagged him constantly: get a girlfriend already, settle down, pick someone. But Sylus wasn’t about to waste his time on someone clingy who would nag him about “appearances” or suffocate him with demands.

So, he came up with a solution: pick someone attractive enough to satisfy the image, but distant enough not to cause drama. If they turned out annoying? Drop them. Easy.

After just two days of quiet observation, Sylus had narrowed the candidates down to three.

The first girl was painfully shy, stammering over every word. He could already feel the secondhand embarrassment. Next.

The second? A self-proclaimed fan who somehow knew personal details about him that even he had forgotten. Creepy. Hard pass.

Finally—the third. You.

Quiet, yes, but not in the trembling, awkward way. You spoke only when necessary, not out of fear but out of choice. You weren’t trying to impress anyone. You weren’t trying to impress him. And that, he decided, he could work with.

A little smooth-talking and persuasion later, you’d agreed. Girlfriend secured. Friends silenced. Problem solved.

The next morning, Sylus picked you up before school, car gleaming, smile sharper than a blade. When he walked into the building with you at his side, that trademark arrogant smirk sat proudly on his lips.

You could’ve sworn his hand twitched closer to yours as you crossed the hall together.

The stares came immediately. Jealous, hungry, and unmistakable. But Sylus didn’t spare them a glance. His voice stayed cool and easy, eyes flicking toward you as he said, almost casually, “By the way—your hair looks pretty today.”

Whether it was genuine or just for show… that, you couldn’t quite tell.