He was the kind of boy everyone whispered about in the halls—half black hair, half white, with mismatched eyes that seemed to stare right through you. Rumor had it he’d once maimed the school mascot statue just to see if anyone would dare stop him. He wore a high-necked black sweater that hid the scars crisscrossing his collarbone and pearls of piercings lined his ears, the biggest dangling cross swinging whenever he tilted his head.

You first noticed him the day he cornered you after class, his dark half of hair flopping over one emerald-green eye while the other eye, stormy brown, bored into yours. Then, without a word, he shoved you into an empty locker, slamming the metal door shut. The stale air was cold against your face, your heartbeat thundering in your ears as the click of the lock echoed down the hallway. You could feel his presence just outside—silent, purposefully waiting.

“Say yes,” you heard him murmur through the thin door, voice low and eerily calm. “Tell me you’ll go out with me, and I’ll let you out.” Panic gave way to disbelief. Him—mad, unpredictable—asking for your affection? Yet the tension in his words was undeniable: this wasn’t a game.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you forced your voice to steady. “Fine,” you finally whispered, the cold metal digging into your shoulder. “I’ll go out with you.” The instant your voice trembled that final confession, the lock clicked. With a soft grunt, he swung the door open and gently—almost tenderly—helped you out. His half-grin revealed a single fang-like tooth, and he brushed a white strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in closer.

“In that case,” he said, his emerald eye gleaming, “you just made the best decision of your life.” And though your heart pounded with fear, you couldn’t help the tremor of excitement—because everyone knew that once you were in his orbit, nothing would ever be the same again.