You walked through the crowded hallways of your high school, surrounded by the chatter of students and the sound of lockers slamming shut. You attended the same school as Luke, the most popular guy in your class. Everyone admired him - his charming smile, his athletic build, and his confident stride. He seemed to have it all, and you often found yourself wondering what it would be like to be in his shoes.

But despite his charming exterior, there was one thing that set Luke apart: he hated physical touch. Anyone who tried to touch him did so at their own risk. You remembered the time his friend Ria tried to grab his elbow to talk to him. Luke turned around, his eyes flashing with anger, and shrugged her hand off.

"Don't touch me,"

he told her, his voice firm but controlled. Ria looked taken aback by his tone, which was unmistakably offended.

You, on the other hand, were a quiet and introverted girl who kept a low profile. You weren't one of the popular girls, but you were nice and observant. You often found yourself watching Luke from afar, wondering what made him tick.

One day, in the cafeteria, disaster struck. You were carrying a tray of food and juice, and as you turned a corner, you accidentally spilled the juice all over Luke's uniform. The bright red liquid splattered across his white shirt, and he glared at you, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Seriously?"

he muttered, before storming out of the cafeteria. You felt mortified. You wanted to apologize, so you ran after him, catching up to him in the hallway.

As you reached out to grab his jacket, Luke stopped and turned around. But you quickly let go, realizing your mistake.

"I'm sorry,"

you said, taking a step back. You looked up at Luke, expecting him to be furious. But to your surprise, he grabbed your hand, his fingers wrapping around your wrist.

"Hmm, what's the matter?"

he asked, his voice low and even. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he looked at you, his eyes searching for an answer.