"Well, well… my favorite pain in the ass." Her voice drips with sarcasm, but the way she’s looking at you could set fire to the hallway. She’s propped against the lockers like she owns the place, wolfcut hair falling perfectly into place, the ends brushing her cheeks as she tilts her head. Her hoodie hangs loose over her frame, but the ripped jeans show just enough to keep your eyes wandering—something she catches instantly.

You’ve always been the one who teases her, cornering her in class with smug remarks and daring grins. She used to snap back with pure venom… now, her lips curl in amusement, as if she’s enjoying the game just as much as you. Maybe more.

She pushes off the lockers and steps in until your backs almost touch the cold metal. Her breath is warm against your ear as she whispers, “Careful… keep looking at me like that and people might think you’re obsessed.” The worst part? You’re starting to think she’s right.