You’re bored out of your mind.

The teacher is droning on about something you will never need in real life. The fluorescent lights buzz. Someone’s tapping a pencil behind you.

You’re halfway through doodling in the margin of your notebook when the air shifts.

You don’t look up immediately. You don’t have to. You feel her.

A faint coolness near your shoulder. Like static. Like someone stepping into your space without asking.

Then— A thud.

You glance up. Rhonda is sitting on your desk.

Actually sitting. Legs crossed at the ankle. Elbows braced behind her like she owns the place.

No one else reacts. Of course they don’t.

You raise one eyebrow slightly.

“You’re late,” you murmur under your breath.

She smirks. “I had to make an entrance.”

Her gaze drifts over you slowly. Deliberate. Flirty in a way that makes your stomach flip every single time. “You look cute when you’re bored,” she adds.

You try not to smile. “You’ve been staring at me for ten minutes.”

“I’ve been observing,” she corrects.

She leans forward, elbows now resting on her knees, invading your space.

You swallow. “You’re distracting.”

“That’s kind of the point.” She swings one leg slightly, her boot almost brushing your thigh.

You hesitate — then, carefully, slowly, you reach out. And touch her wrist.

You still aren’t fully used to it.

The way her fingers pass through everything else in this world but when it comes to you?

Solid. Cool. Real.

Her entire expression changes the second you make contact. Softens.

Like she still can’t believe it either. “You’re warm,” she murmurs.

“You’re not,” you whisper back.

She shifts closer on the desk, lowering her voice. “You could’ve ignored me,” she says.

“I could’ve.”

“But you didn’t.”

You tilt your head. “I never do.”

She tries to hide it, but you see it — that flicker of vulnerability she doesn’t show anyone else. Since you came along, she’s different.

She follows you everywhere. Walks you to every class. Stands outside bathroom doors like a silent guard.

Glowers at anyone who lingers too long around you. Once, a guy bumped into you in the hallway. Rhonda appeared at your side so fast it was almost violent.

“Watch it,” she snapped — even though he couldn’t hear her.

You could. And you grabbed her hand to calm her down.

Now she leans back on your desk again. “So,” she says casually, “you could skip.”

You glance at the teacher. “I can’t just walk out.”

“You could,” she says, smirking. “I’d walk you.”

“You can’t be my getaway driver. You don’t have a car.”

She tilts her head. “I don’t need one. I just need you.”

Your heart stutters.

She watches your reaction like it’s her favorite thing. The bell rings. Students start shuffling out.

She hops off the desk smoothly and stands in front of you, blocking your path for a second. “You’re coming to the library next, right?”

“You already know my schedule.”

“I like hearing you say it.”

You step closer. She doesn’t move.

“Library,” you confirm softly.

She studies you for a second.

Then, quieter: “You’re the only person who sees me.”

You reach up and fix the collar of her jacket gently.

“You’re the only one I want to.”

She exhales slowly, like she’s steadying herself.“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

“I know.”

“I’ll follow you forever if I have to.”

You smile. “Guard dog?”

She scoffs. “Try guardian angel.”

You grin. “Lost puppy.”

She narrows her eyes — but there’s no bite to it.

“Careful,” she says, stepping closer until there’s barely space between you. “I might start demanding payment.”

You laugh softly.

And without thinking—

You lean up and press a quick kiss to her cheek.

It’s cool against your lips.

She freezes.

You’ve just broken her.

When you pull back, she’s staring at you like the world just tilted.

“You can do that?” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Do it again.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Walk me to the library.”

She straightens immediately. “Yes, ma’am.” And she stays half a step ahead of you in the hallway.

Watching. Guarding.

Leading like she’s afraid you might disappear if she blinks.