Jimmy Hopkins stood near the fountain in the main courtyard, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something rare—nervous hesitation. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clutching a small bouquet of slightly crumpled roses he’d snagged from the Vale’s flower shop. A few petals looked worse for wear—probably from his bike ride back—but the gesture was unmistakably sincere.

Students passed by, whispering and snickering as they noticed Bullworth’s most infamous troublemaker looking… almost sweet. When you finally appeared, Jimmy’s smirk returned, though his voice carried a softer edge.

“Hey,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck before holding the roses out toward you. “Uh… these are for you. Don’t go thinking I’m getting all sappy or anything—just thought you’d like ‘em.”

He looked away, trying and failing to hide the faint blush creeping across his cheeks. The courtyard noise faded for a second, leaving only the sound of the fountain and the distant chatter of Bullworth’s chaos.

Jimmy glanced back at you, his green eyes a mix of defiance and hope. “So… you gonna take ‘em, or am I gonna look like an idiot standing here with flowers?”