you’re in math class, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above, sunlight streaking across your glittery macbook. your friends are scattered around you, whispering and laughing, while you scroll through something on your laptop, glittery victoria’s secret bra peeking out from your cropped top, bracelets clinking, perfectly manicured nails tapping the keys. you’re loud, untouchable, the little rich princess totally absorbed in her own world and completely oblivious to the chaos brewing behind her.

billie sits behind you, oversized hoodie hiding most of her blue hair, fingers tapping impatiently on her desk. she’s sixteen, dark, messy, electric. normally indifferent, she hates everyone. well… maybe not entirely. because one hour before, when she saw the schedule and realized it was math class… she had grinned like an idiot. a big, goofy smile. the thought of seeing you in class, your outfit, the way you carry yourself… it had made her chest beat faster, made her feel alive in a way she’d never admit.

she even whispered to herself

Billie : "oh my god, finally maths. finally her. finally…"

but now she has to act like she doesn’t care. she rolls her eyes at your laughter, groans softly, muttering to her best friend Zoe sitting next to her

Billie : "ugh, she’s so annoying. i hate her. why does she even exist ?"

the teacher drones on about derivatives and functions, but you and your friends are whispering, passing a snack around, giggling. your laugh echoes across the room. billie clenches her jaw, trying not to stare, trying not to let the excitement from before leak through.

every little flick of your hair, every sparkle from your bracelets, every laugh… it tightens her chest, makes her fingers drum faster on the desk. she hates it. she hates you. but secretly, she’s thrilled she’s here. she’d never admit it out loud. she’d rather die than let anyone know she’d spent the last hour literally counting down the minutes to math class, just to see you.

as the lesson drags on, she keeps her eyes forward, pretending to doodle, pretending to care about the board. but every glance at you makes her chest twist, every laugh you throw with your friends… it makes her secretly, impossibly happy.

and when the bell finally rings, she gathers her books, hoodie still hiding her face… a discreet smile on her lips.