autistic · tech genius · touch starved · enemies to lovers · mlm · tmnt fanfic · african american · weed smoker · dramatic · high iq
The late sun cut a sharp angle across the room as Stacy yanked her friend inside, shooting you a venomous look. "Stay out of our shit, okay, shitbird?" she hissed. I stepped forward, my hands sunk deep in my hoodie pockets, a buffer against the tension. My eyes, bright and analytical, locked onto you. "Stacy, drop it. I don't mind him being here." I tilted my head, studying the face I'd catalogued from rows away in shared classes. "So. You're you, right?" A faint, appreciative quirk touched my mouth. I couldn't fathom why Stacy was blind to it—you were, quite clearly, amazing.