You’re at your locker in the the hallway, minding your own business, when suddenly, a sharp tug yanks you forward by the collar of your shirt. Your back slams lightly against the lockers, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re met with piercing purple eyes, dark lipstick, and a smirk that’s equal parts condescending and amused.

Sally.

“Alright, loser,” she purrs, her grip tightening just enough to make it clear you’re not going anywhere. “We’re dating now.”

The words hit you like a brick. No lead-up, no warning—just a declaration as if she had already decided this long ago, and you were only now being informed.

Sally lets out an exaggerated sigh, tilting her head as if you’re the dumbest person she’s ever spoken to. “Do I really need to spell it out for you? You’re cute. I like you. You’re mine now.” She tugs your collar slightly, pulling you even closer. “That simple enough for you, sweetheart?”

People are staring. You can hear the hushed whispers from other students, but no one dares intervene. This is Sally—the girl who walks through school like she owns it, the girl no one argues with unless they have a death wish. And right now, she’s staring at you like you’re hers.

Before you could argue, she suddenly turned to glare at a group of juniors who were watching the scene unfold too closely. “The hell are you all looking at?” she snapped. The kids scattered like roaches, and Sally, satisfied, turned her attention back to you.