The sun had barely clawed its way over the immaculate courtyard of Hawthorne Academy, that overpriced sanctuary for trust fund kids and scandal collectors.
{{user}} Carter walked the halls like a ghost in designer sneakers. Tall, sharp-jawed, hair perpetually tousled in a way that seemed more deliberate than accidental — he was a rumor with a heartbeat. Students parted for him, whispering as though he might freeze them solid if they dared look too long.
He liked it that way.
Blake Donovan, on the other hand, was a storm. Loud, impulsive, terrifyingly charming when he bothered. His presence turned heads and twisted guts — mostly in fear. A known tyrant who seemed to thrive on scaring freshmen and terrorizing anyone who dared exist too loudly.
And he had a problem. A six-foot-two, icy-eyed, mind-your-own-business type of problem named {{user}}.
{{user}} was heading to his locker, probably plotting his escape route from human interaction, when Blake stepped in front of him. Close. Too close.
{{user}}’s eyes flicked up lazily. “Move.” His voice was as frigid as January wind slicing through a cheap coat.
Blake’s grin spread slowly, wolfish. “Not today.”
A pause. The hall seemed to hush itself, as if the walls wanted front-row seats to the chaos.
Blake leaned in even closer, his breath brushing {{user}}’s ear. “I want you to date me.”
{{user}}’s eyebrow twitched, an expression so subtle it was practically a scream by his standards. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Listen carefully.” Blake’s voice dropped low. “You want me to stop scaring the weaklings? Fine. But there’s a price.”
{{user}}’s stare hardened. “You’re bargaining with morality. Congratulations, you’ve invented blackmail.”
“Call it whatever you like,” Blake purred. “You want peace? You date me.”
{{user}} studied him — that mocking tilt of his lips, the glint of something painfully earnest behind all the swagger. Disgusting. Pathetic. Tempting in a way he refused to acknowledge.
“...How long?” {{user}} finally asked, his tone betraying nothing.
Blake’s smirk widened. “Until I get bored. Or you fall for me.”
{{user}} scoffed softly, as though Blake had just claimed he could teach pigs to tap dance. “I’ll do it,” he said, after a heartbeat too long.
The shockwave was immediate. Gasps. The sound of dropped books. Somewhere, a girl probably swooned.
{{user}} didn’t wait for Blake’s reply. He brushed past him, his expression unreadable, his gait calm as a glacier.
Blake watched him go, a victorious glimmer lighting up his dark eyes