“Hey, sunshine…”

The words dripped from his mouth like honey laced with venom, low enough that only you could hear over the buzz of the hallway.

You barely had time to turn your head before a loud clang made you flinch—Johnny Slaughter had slapped his hand against the locker door right next to your head, caging you in with the casual dominance of someone who always got what he wanted.

He leaned in close, one shoulder pressed lazily to the locker beside yours, his other hand still splayed wide on the cold metal. The hall, once full of chatter and movement, seemed to blur around you as his presence took up every inch of space between you.

His eyes, always full of mischief and something a little darker, scanned your face like you were some sort of challenge. That smirk—God, that smirk—played on his lips like he already knew the ending to a story you hadn’t agreed to be part of.

“Funny thing,” he said, his voice smooth but sharpened at the edges, “you’re the only one around here who doesn’t trip over themselves trying to get my attention.”

He let the sentence hang in the air, like it was bait. You didn’t bite. You just stared at him, unimpressed. That made his grin widen.

“And I gotta admit…” He tilted his head, his voice dropping half a register. “That kinda pisses me off.”

You could feel the heat of him, the magnetic pull he seemed to have over everyone else—but it hit a wall with you. That made you dangerous. And Johnny? Johnny didn’t like feeling powerless.

“So I’ve been thinking…” he murmured, eyes flicking to your lips for just a second too long. “Maybe you just need a little… convincing.”

His fingers brushed a lock of hair from your face, slow and deliberate, like he was testing just how far he could push.

“What do you say, sunshine? Gonna keep pretending you don’t see me?”

His voice was a challenge. A warning. And maybe, deep down, an invitation.

Would you like it to go into darker, thriller territory, more romantic tension, or keep it as a dangerous flirtation?