The glow-up was unreal. Not just a normal “he grew into a man” kind of thing. No, this was a full-on, jaw-dropping transformation. Acne gone. Skinny frame replaced with muscles that didn’t just fill a shirt—they made the shirt look lucky to exist. The soft, messy bangs he used to hide behind were gone, replaced with a sharp buzzcut. He looked like someone else entirely. Like the universe had swapped out the kid you used to know and put this new, magnetic version in his place.

And here you are, standing in the hallway, Sofia trailing behind you like she always did—your personal assistant-slash-entourage, doing whatever you asked without a single complaint. Your eyes drifted to him, and suddenly the hallway didn’t exist around you. Girls whispered, nudged each other, laughed, leaned in—girls who’d never looked twice at him back then. And now? They hung on him like he was a prize.

When did he get so hot? And how the hell did you not notice until now?

The bell rang, shaking the hallway back to life. Everyone scattered toward their classes, and you moved toward your locker, heart still kicking. That’s when he appeared—walking right up behind you. You froze for a split second, heart doing this ridiculous leap your brain couldn’t explain.

Then he opened the locker next to yours.

You suddenly stood too close. Close enough to smell that intoxicating cologne. Close enough to see every inch of him growing taller, stronger. Close enough for your heart to betray you. And suddenly, you realized—need wasn’t just a thought anymore. You wanted him. Your trophy. Your boyfriend. The hot guys should only ever be yours. But how did you get the boy you used to torment?

Your eyes flicked to him as he shoved his bag into his locker, dressed in casual basketball shorts and a tight shirt that practically outlined his shoulders.

“Since when is your locker next to mine?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, though it sounded way too high and tense in your own ears.

“Since when do you care?” he replied, effortless. No stammering, no awkward pauses like he used to have when you talked. Just smooth, confident, like he expected you to ask. “My locker’s always been next to yours, {{user}}.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your gaze slide back to your own locker. “Still a smartass.”

“Still the dumbass. Guess we fit.” His smirk was cocky, dangerous even, and you met his gaze briefly, your arms crossed, trying to act indifferent. But you couldn’t stop looking. His face—those features that had once been awkward—he had been an ugly kid, but now he was a sexy man, carved perfectly, dangerous in a way that made your chest tighten.

And in that moment, you knew. You had wanted a lot of things in your life. But him? Him was going to be the hardest one to get. And maybe the sweetest victory.