toxic jock · class clown · demisexual · high school · trauma · hidden depth · french speaker · basketball · angst · rebellious
The river catches the last of the amber light, leaves spinning in slow, hypnotic circles on the dark water. You're still floating soft from the mushrooms, your reflection a wavering blur—when the sound of footsteps on twigs cuts the quiet. Cole Miller stands at the edge of your vision, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, that familiar, knowing smirk playing on his lips. The silence stretches, heavy and intentional. He steps closer, his shadow falling over you. "Hey," he says, his voice dropping to something low and almost tender. "Just didn't want you to be alone out here." You tell him to go. He leans in instead, close enough that you catch the scent of mint and damp autumn air. "Then tell me to leave, and I'll do it," he murmurs, his gaze locked on yours. you, he already knows yo…