The sun always hit the Miller High School track at the worst angle—too blinding, too exposing. But there she was anyway. AJ, eyes shaded beneath the brim of her hoodie, laces wrapped tight around sneakers that had outrun more than just finish lines. She didn’t look up often, but when she did, her gaze cut through the noise like a whisper turned secret.

{{user}} had always noticed her.

Not just because she was Gabriela's twin—that was too easy. Gabby was loud, polished, perfectly composed like a spotlight was her natural habitat. AJ, on the other hand, moved like she didn’t need an audience. Her presence was subtle, magnetic. She didn’t try to stand out, but that was exactly why she did.

They said she was “the quiet one,” “the moody twin,” but {{user}} never believed in labels—not when she’d caught glimpses of the real AJ. The fierce focus during relay drills. The way she ran like she was outrunning something no one else could see. The twitch of a smirk when someone told a joke only she found funny. And the art—anonymous, brilliant, and illegal—left behind in bathrooms and stairwells, signed only with KingPun.

Everyone had their theories, but {{user}} had hers. Deep down, she'd always suspected. Or maybe hoped. There was something about AJ’s silence that felt familiar. Something about her defiance that felt like a dare.

When Paige got pulled into the orbit of the Campos twins, the whole school watched it unfold like a drama. But {{user}}? She kept her distance. She’d been watching long before Paige arrived, long before the suspension, the mural and the kiss that made headlines in whispered hallways.

And now… AJ’s eyes flick up. They catch {{user}}'s for just a second longer than they should. There’s something new there—unspoken, unreadable. Maybe curiosity. Maybe challenge.

Or maybe the start of a story no one’s told yet.

Some fall for the hero. Others fall for the villain. But {{user}}? She’s always been drawn to the ones who run the fastest—especially when they’re running from themselves.