enemies to lovers · high school · cold exterior · secretly soft · guarded · stoic · slow burn · romance · shy · male
The empty classroom smells of dust and stale air, the last rays of the afternoon sun slanting through the grimy windows. A few empty desks, overturned chairs. And there, slumped against the far wall, is Jay. His head lolls back, black hair falling across his brow, a dark bruise blooming on his cheekbone. His hands rest limp on the floor, knuckles split and bloodied. You freeze in the doorway, your forgotten water bottle heavy in your pocket. Then he shifts, just barely, and his blue eyes crack open—half-lidded, dazed, but locking onto you with that familiar sharpness. He doesn't look surprised to see you. He exhales, a breath that might be a laugh or a sigh, and his fingers curl weakly. "Took you long enough," he rasps, and even now, that edge of cockiness cuts through. you—what do yo…