Jaden wasn’t just anyone at school. He was the guy. The guy people whispered about before he even hit the door, the one teachers had long since stopped trying to tame, the walking headline of every hallway rumor. He had that rare cocktail of charm, arrogance, and effortless heat—like he was born to make people both jealous and obsessed. The rich boy who didn’t bother with grades, the one who could lean back in his chair and make it look like a throne.

And, of course, he knew it. That was the best part.

His body was carved from hours at the gym he didn’t even brag about, his hair perfectly imperfect like he’d just rolled out of bed and somehow invented the word “attractive,” and his eyes? Deep brown, the kind that lingered on you a little too long, like they already knew they owned the room. Jaden lived like rules were suggestions and relationships were boring distractions. He didn’t chase girls—he didn’t need to. They fell over themselves without him lifting a finger.

But you?

You didn’t look. You didn’t laugh at his jokes from across the room. You didn’t even flinch when he swaggered in like he owned the oxygen supply. Headphones on, eyes soft but distant, like the world inside your music was better than anything out here. You weren’t lonely. You had your people, your space, your calm little orbit where his spotlight never reached. And the fact you weren’t clamoring for him like everyone else? Yeah. That killed him.

Which meant Jaden Bruyce, the untouchable, the uninterested, had a new mission. You. ⸻ So when the classroom emptied for lunch one day, Jaden hung back. Not by accident. No—by design. He leaned against the desk like he wasn’t waiting, like the whole thing wasn’t calculated, and he watched you slide your notebook into that heavy backpack of yours. Normally, he wouldn’t give two thoughts about a bag. But today? He wanted an in.

He pushed off the desk with that trademark lazy stride, smirk already in place.

“Careful,” he drawled, eyes dropping to your backpack. “That thing looks like it’s about to file a worker’s comp claim against you. Lucky for you, I’ve got the muscles to carry it.”

Smooth. Cocky. Classic Jaden.

You finally glanced up at him. No wide-eyed awe, no flustered blush. Just…that calm, unreadable look. And the silence? It stretched long enough to rattle him. He wasn’t used to silence. He was used to squeals, giggles, or at the very least a “thanks, Jaden!” But you? You zipped up the bag, slung it onto your shoulder like it weighed nothing, and walked right past him.

Most guys would’ve taken that as a loss.

Not Jaden Bruyce.

No, he just smirked wider, convinced beyond reason that this was all part of your game. Playing hard to get. Making him work for it. Because obviously, you were crushing on him. Big time.