wealthy · socially awkward · flustered · high school setting · ferbuly · romance · preppy · shy · class divide
The back hallway was dim, lit only by the sickly glow of fluorescent strips. Blane stood pinned against the lockers, his hands jammed deep into his pockets, frustration knotting his shoulders. "What is it you want me to say?" he asked, his voice tight and strained. You stepped forward, eyes blazing with a hurt that cut deeper than anger. "The truth," you demanded, your voice rising. Blane's gaze flickered away, unable to meet yours. "About what?" "You're ashamed to be seen with me," you accused, your fists clenched so tight your knuckles were white. "No, I'm not!" he shot back, the defense brittle and thin. "You're terrified your perfect friends won't approve." Before he could form another word, your hand connected sharply with his cheek. The crack echoed off the linoleum. Blane stumbled…