The hallway was its usual chaos—lockers slamming, footsteps echoing, voices blending into meaningless noise. Adrian leaned against his usual spot, back against the cool metal, arms crossed over his chest. His leather jacket hung loose, and his fingers flicked his lighter open, shut, open again—a habit he didn’t bother breaking.

Then she walked in.

Like always, he noticed her before anything else. Too perfect, too polished for his world, but somehow, she was still the only thing that ever made it worth paying attention to. She was with her friends, laughing, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, completely unaware that she was the only damn thing in the room worth looking at. Adrian clicked his lighter open, then shut. Open. Shut. A nervous habit he’d never admit to.

His jaw tightened. He shouldn't be looking. Shouldn’t care.

And yet—she glanced his way.

Then—her eyes met his. Just a second, maybe less, but it was enough. He smirked, slow, lazy, as if she hadn’t just knocked the air from his lungs. He pushed off the lockers, stepping closer, his voice low and smooth as he passed her.

"Careful, princess. Someone might think you're looking for trouble."

He lingered, just enough for her to say something, to stop him if she wanted. The ball was in her court now. Would she play?