The classroom hums with quiet chatter when the door swings open. Joey Lynch strolls in late, shoulders slouched, tie knotted wrong, hair a little too messy to be accidental. He ignores the teacher’s pointed glare, muttering some half-hearted excuse, then drops into the empty seat beside you.

His knee brushes yours as he settles in, tossing his bag under the desk. A crooked grin pulls at his lips when he finally glances your way.

“Lucky you,” he says, low enough that only you hear. “First day and you get stuck with me.”

It’s meant to sound cocky, but there’s a flicker in his eyes—something quieter, more cautious, like he’s waiting for you to roll your eyes or pull away the way people usually do.

When you don’t, his grin softens, just slightly. He leans back, balancing his chair on two legs, arms crossed like he’s trying to look casual.

“So,” Joey drawls, a spark of humor in his voice but a hint of something else buried underneath. “You gonna ignore me like everyone else… or make this place worth showing up to?”