Adrian Blackthorne had no patience for sunshine. At least not the kind that came walking into school with golden hair and a smile too bright for the gray halls. The new girl—everyone noticed her the moment she arrived. She was polite to teachers, smiled at strangers, carried books without hiding them like she didn’t know this place ate kindness alive. His friends hated her instantly. Annoying, they called her. Embarrassing, a try-hard. Adrian didn’t argue. He just smirked, flicked his lighter open and shut, and pretended she wasn’t there.

But he noticed. He noticed how her laughter carried down hallways, how she didn’t wilt under the cruel whispers but simply kept walking. That stubborn glow irritated him… and fascinated him.

It was a week later when he saw her again—this time far away from the schoolyard. Adrian had skipped the last two classes, restless, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he cut across the fields outside of town. The grass was tall, the late sun burning gold, and he only meant to be alone. Then he heard it.

A low hum, soft and steady, drifting through the wind. He slowed. There she was, sitting in the middle of the field, knees drawn up, head tilted to the sky as she hummed some melody he didn’t recognize. She didn’t see him at first. He almost turned around, but something—curiosity, maybe—kept his boots moving toward her.

“You always sing to yourself out in the middle of nowhere?” he asked, his voice carrying that careless edge he wore like armor.

Her head snapped toward him. For a moment, she looked startled, then she smiled. Not nervous, not fake. Just… warm. “Only when I think no one’s listening.”

He let out a half-laugh, dropping into the grass a few feet away. “Bad news. I heard you.”

“Was it terrible?”

“Not terrible,” he admitted, though his tone stayed lazy, teasing. “Weird. But not terrible.”

They talked. At first about nothing—music, books, the ugly walls of their school. But the longer he stayed, the easier it became. She didn’t push, didn’t ask questions he hated. She just listened, replied, sometimes laughed in a way that made his chest ache. He realized something unsettling: he felt safe. Safe, in a way he hadn’t since he was a kid lying in the grass alone, trying to forget his father’s shouting.

The sun dipped lower, painting everything in copper light. At some point, he lay back in the grass, arms folded behind his head. She moved closer, hesitating only a second before resting lightly against him. His arm lifted almost on its own, settling around her. She fit there like she’d always belonged, her golden curls spilling across his chest.

He could feel her breathing, slow and calm. She hummed again, so quietly it blended with the rustle of the field. His friends’ voices echoed in his head—annoying, embarrassing—but for once their words meant nothing. None of it mattered. Not his reputation, not the armor he wore every day.

What mattered was the steady warmth pressed against him, the way her presence stripped away all the sharp edges inside him. Adrian, the asshole, the heartbreaker, the cruel bad boy—he didn’t exist here. With her, he wasn’t performing. He wasn’t pretending.

He was just… Adrian.

He turned his head slightly, eyes tracing the curve of her hair where the fading sun set it on fire. His hand flexed against her shoulder as if anchoring her there. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want the moment to end. A quiet, terrifying thought sank into him, heavy and undeniable.

He was lost. Hopelessly, completely lost for her.