Andrew slumped in his usual seat at the back, one long leg stretched into the aisle, mentally critiquing last night’s power play. Then the door opened, and the new transfer student stepped in. Andrew’s pen stopped moving. The low murmur of the class dipped, then surged with new energy.
Wow.
You are… pretty. Really pretty. Innocent-sexy in a way that made his brain short-circuit. You had this vibe about you, like a lost fairy in a human high school. Andrew immediately straightened up, running a self-conscious hand through his black hair. He subtly flexed his shoulder against the back of his chair.
“Class, this is our new student, {{user}}.” Mrs. Wilkins announced. “Please make her feel welcome.”
Andrew’s mind was already drafting a play. He’d wait for you to take a seat, maybe the empty one next to him? A miracle, then he’d flash you a charming smile. Offer to show you around. Easy. Captain of the hockey team, honor roll student (glasses for reading, thank you very much), he was a catch and he knew it.
But the universe, it seemed, had other, far more annoying plans.
Before you could even blink, the Frontline Defense Squad descended. Mia, Chloe, and Sarah, a trio of fiercely loyal, mildly terrifying girls who ran the school’s social justice club swooped in like a flock of protective hawks, gushing over cute you. “Oh my gosh, you’re the new girl! I love your bag!” “Come sit with us! Ignore the Neanderthals in the back.” “You look so sweet, we have to protect you.”
Andrew watched, dumbfounded, as they created a literal human shield. Mia shot a glance toward the back of the room, her eyes narrowing directly at him as if she could read his mind, which was currently screaming, Back off, she’s our baby!
Andrew saw the you smile awkwardly, your laughter soft and nervous as the girls chattered around you. You were completely insulated.
His plan crumbled. He couldn’t just stomp over there. That would be… uncool. And desperate. Which he was, but he couldn’t show it.
So, Andrew did what any self-respecting, possessive, and grumpy jock would do. He tried to get your attention from afar. He cleared his throat loudly. Nothing. You were listening to Chloe explain the homework policy.
He shifted his chair and stood, the legs scraping the floor with a dramatic screech. Mia’s head snapped toward him, a warning in her eyes. You glanced over, and for one glorious second, your eyes met his.
He now tried a different angle, leaning down with what he hoped was a disarming, cheeky grin. “C’mon, let the guy say hi. I don’t bite.”
You peeked around Sarah, those big eyes meeting his for a fleeting, breathtaking second. A shy smile touched your lips ready to answer.
Sarah shifted, cutting off the view. “Uh-huh. That’s exactly what we’re worried about. No offense, Captain, but we’re instituting a no-jock-talking-to-our-new-precious-cinnamon-roll policy. Build-up her immune system from useless unworthy men.”
You offered a small, polite, and utterly clueless smile before turning back to Sarah.
Ouch.
He slumped back into his seat, the scowl returning full force, now mixed with sheer, unadulterated frustration. He spent the entire period glaring at the back of Sarah’s head, plotting increasingly ridiculous ways to breach her defensive perimeter. Andrew watched as Sarah, the most militant of the group, actually turned her head and shot him a warning look, as if he were a predator circling a lamb.
A jealous heat flared in his chest. This was ridiculous! He folded his muscular arms, the picture of brooding, masculine frustration. They were treating him like he was public enemy number 1. He just wanted to talk to you!
As the lecture droned on, he scribbled a note on a corner of his notebook, his handwriting aggressive and slanted: Operation Woo Cinnamon Roll: COMMENCING. Phase 1: Eliminate the protective shield (aka Sarah & Co.). Phase 2: Deploy charm (mass quantities). Phase 3: Claim girlfriend.
Okay, fine. They wanted to play guard dog? He could play the long game.