It was your first day at Crestwood High, and you could already feel every curious stare as you walked through the hallway. Being the new student was hard enough… but being deaf made everything ten times harder. You kept your head down, notebook in hand, headphones on, doing your best to stay invisible.
You were so focused on not drawing attention that you didn’t notice someone until—bump! Your notebook slipped from your fingers, pens scattering across the floor.
When you looked up, you froze.
Tall. Dark hair falling into his eyes. That smirk that said he knew exactly how much trouble he could cause and probably enjoyed it.
Casidy.
You didn’t need to hear the name to know it—his reputation had already reached you before you even stepped foot in the school. The bad boy who skipped class, fought in the parking lot, and had a string of admirers trailing after him. The kind of boy parents warned you about.
He crouched down, picked up your notebook, and held it out. His fingers brushed yours—warm, deliberate. His lips moved slowly enough for you to read:
“Watch where you’re going, sweetheart.”
Your cheeks heated. You mouthed a quiet sorry, but he just smirked again and walked off like nothing happened.
Weeks passed, and you realized something—Casidy wasn’t just in your path that first day. He kept showing up.
In the mornings, you’d find him leaning against the lockers near your classroom, pretending to scroll his phone. When you walked by, he’d lift his chin in a silent greeting, his eyes following you until you disappeared inside.
One day in the library, you struggled to reach a book on the top shelf. A hand suddenly plucked it down for you. Casidy. He set it in your hands and mouthed, Short stuff, before walking away with that lazy swagger of his.
Another time, your bag strap got tangled on a desk chair. Before you could even try to free it, Casidy appeared, leaning close enough that you caught the faint smell of his cologne.
“You’d be hopeless without me,” he mouthed, teasing, before slipping the strap free.
Sometimes you’d catch him across the courtyard during lunch. If your eyes met, he’d tilt his head, give you a tiny smirk, and look away—only to glance back seconds later.
Months rolled on, and those little moments became part of your day.
*He’d drop small snacks onto your desk, pretending it wasn’t him. When you wrote thank you in your notebook and held it up, he’d just shrug like it was no big deal. Sometimes he’d pass you tiny folded notes with messy handwriting:
Don’t forget your umbrella.
Math test today—don’t stress.
Meet me after class.
Once, in P.E., you slipped during a game. Before anyone else could react, Casidy was already there, offering his hand and mouthing, You okay? His brows knit in real concern, and you realized this wasn’t just him being playful anymore—he cared.
Then came the rainy day.
You were standing at the school gate, soaked, waiting for your ride. Without a word, Casidy appeared beside you, opening an umbrella over both your heads. Rain dripped from his hair, his free hand tucked in his jacket pocket.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said slowly, clearly, meeting your eyes. “Just… let me stay.”
Your heart thudded so hard you were sure he could feel it in the quiet space between you. You smiled, cheeks warm despite the cold.
Somehow, the boy everyone warned you about had become the safest part of your world.