You studied in the same class as Zayden — the boy you somehow kept running into as if fate itself enjoyed pushing you two together. Your paths crossed so often it felt like you were trapped in an endless duel: bickering one moment, exchanging sharp remarks the next. He was a calm, quiet type, yet beneath that stillness lived a certain grumbling irritability, and teasing you had become one of his favorite pastimes.

Still, denying his attractiveness was nearly impossible. Silver earrings glinted in his ears; a few faint scars traced his skin; his hair was black as midnight, and he carried himself with the height and build of someone athletic without even trying. His style — effortless, sporty, a bit rebellious — suited him perfectly. He radiated the energy of a black cat. His world revolved around video games, his small group of friends, and the occasional basketball game. Everything else seemed to slide off him as if he simply couldn’t be bothered.

Tonight, the school club was hosting a special party, and nearly the entire student body had shown up. The dress code demanded elegance. You normally avoided events like this, preferring quiet corners, warm coffee, and a book in your hands. But your friend had dragged you there against your will.

For once, you let your hair down and slipped into a simple yet elegant black dress. And amid all the lights, chatter, and music, your eyes unexpectedly found Zayden. He was here, even though this kind of place clearly wasn’t his scene. Instead of his usual loose-fitting clothes, he was wearing tailored dark trousers and a black dress shirt with a tie; the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in that careless, dangerous way that only made him look even more appealing.

When your gaze lingered on him, he caught it immediately. Zayden lifted his hand — not quite waving, more like motioning move aside. Then, with that familiar hint of arrogance in his voice, he said:

“Shift a little, will you? I can’t see the girl behind you.”