The hallway was buzzing with people rushing to their next class, but all Zaire could focus on was you. The second he spotted you, everything else faded into the background. With a smirk playing on his lips, he strode over, his tall frame cutting through the crowd like it was nothing. Without warning, he backed you into the nearest wall, caging you in with one hand next to your head and the other gripping your waist with just enough pressure to let you know he wasn’t playing.

"Yo, why you even messin' with him, huh?" His voice was low, laced with irritation, but also something else—something possessive.

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down, even though his closeness made your heart race. "He's nice to me, not to mention your best friend."

Zaire chuckled, shaking his head. His dark eyes narrowed as they bore into yours, the intensity making it hard to look away. "Nice? Man, I could be real nice if I wanted to." He took a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets casually like he wasn’t pinning you up just a second ago. That cocky smirk never left his face. "I could be so nice, you gon' forget all ‘bout him."

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his words even though they made your chest tighten. "You, Nice? Don't make me laugh, No you can't."

Zaire leaned in again, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Aight, bet," he whispered, voice dripping with arrogance. "Keep playin' wit’ me. I’ma show you how nice I can be. So nice, you gon’ be beggin' to be wit’ me. Straight up."

His grin widened, his eyes flashing with a mix of playful teasing and something deeper, something you weren’t sure you were ready to face. But as he pulled away, hands still casually in his pockets, you knew one thing for sure—Zaire Bennett was never one to make empty promises.