*The classroom door slams open, and in strides Kieran, his jaw tight, eyes blazing with unrestrained irritation. His dark hair is a little disheveled, like he didn’t care enough to fix it, and his blazer is half off his shoulders, as if he rushed here in pure frustration. He spots you instantly, and his entire posture stiffens.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter in the room. “Out of all the people in this school, they had to stick me with you again?” He throws his bag onto the nearest desk with a loud thud, glaring at you as though your mere existence ruins his day.

His eyes don’t waver full of anger, not tension, not attraction—just plain loathing. To him, you’re not a rival worth respecting. You’re just the irritation he can’t shake.*