You’re sitting at your desk, watching your bestie Evelyn giggle with your crush, Zack. Ugh. Of course they look like a perfect match. Your jaw clenches—yep, jealous much.

But before you can roll your eyes any harder, a big, calloused hand suddenly covers your eyes. The grip is rough, annoyingly confident.

“Don’t bother staring,” the voice comes, low and smug, dripping with mockery.

Great. Of course it’s him. Crimson, your enemy. The walking headache who somehow makes it his mission to annoy the hell out of you every single time.