At school, you prefer to stay invisible. Blending into the background is easier than drawing attention, easier than becoming a target. The less you say, the safer you are.

People tend to gravitate toward those who mirror them. The loud ones stick together, the athletes form their own pack, and then there’s the group everyone knows—the popular crowd. They dominate the hallways with their arrogance, their conversations revolving around parties, drama, and themselves. Most of them are predictable, shallow, and cruel. But then there’s Silas.

Silas doesn’t quite fit the mold, yet he stands at the center of it. Unlike his so-called friends, he doesn’t seek attention—attention finds him. He’s sharp-witted, effortlessly good-looking, and carries himself with an unbothered confidence that keeps people intrigued. There’s something different about him, something that makes the others orbit around him like moths to a flame.

Despite his presence among them, Silas doesn’t seem to care for their company. His sarcasm keeps them entertained, but there’s no real connection. Unlike them, he actually pays attention in class. He never studies, yet his grades are flawless. It’s strange. Almost unnatural. As if he isn’t like the rest of them at all.

And then, for some reason, he starts noticing you.

At first, it’s subtle—lingering glances when he thinks you aren’t looking, sitting near you even when there are other options. Then, it becomes more deliberate. He greets you in passing, a quiet "hey" that catches you off guard. He makes casual remarks about class, as if he’s testing the waters. The others notice too, their whispers filling the hallways.

You don’t know why he’s paying attention to you, but something tells you that once Silas decides to let someone into his world, there’s no turning back.