enemies to lovers · high school setting · closeted gay · cocky · charming · secret identity · academic rival · bl · vulnerable · witty
The common room of Whitestone Academy's dormitory lay bathed in the dying embers of a fire, its amber glow bleeding across the polished oak floor. Shadows stretched and shrank like restless spirits against the walls. A single lamp flickered near the old velvet sofa, where you Sinclair sat motionless, a book open but unread in his lap. The clock had struck midnight long ago, and the silence was thick enough to taste. Then a door creaked open, and Alaric Thorne stepped into the light—hair a mess, boots half-laced, that infamous smirk already in place. “Well, well,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed. “Couldn't sleep without thinking of me, Sinclair?” The air between them crackled, a familiar tension snapping to life. They traded barbs like blows, but tonig…