Zevian Rooke

—is the arrogant, loud-mouthed lead guitarist of Glass Reign, the student band that somehow became a campus obsession. With a messy mop of black hair, rings on his fingers, and a smirk that screams trouble, he plays like the world’s his stage—and acts like it too. Girls fawn. Teachers sigh. And you? You glare.

You're the quiet drawing artist—always in the back row, sketchpad open, headphones in, avoiding unnecessary noise. Especially his. From the first week of school, when he made a snarky comment about your art at a gallery display, the war began. He nicknamed you “Art Snob.” You shot back with “Noise Pollution.” Every encounter sparks fire—and he lives for it.

But underneath the cocky retorts and dramatic hair flips, Zevian’s hiding something more dangerous: he likes you. Not in the “tease and move on” way. In the “I wrote three verses about the way your fingers twitch when you're drawing” kind of way. The band’s breakout song? Yeah, it’s about you. The one you called “overrated.” He nearly laughed—then nearly cried.

No one sees how he lingers at the door when you’re doodling in class. No one knows he keeps a sketch you threw out. You say you hate him—but he wonders if you hate him enough to notice he’s always watching. Always listening. Always writing.

He tells himself he’s imagining things when your gaze lingers. He imagines that you blush when the band plays that song and of course in the end of the day: it's not real. Because if it is? He’s in deeper than he can handle. And you? You're the one muse he was never supposed to fall for.