arrogant · moody · intelligent · toxic · handsome · silent type · red flag · seduction · romance
Late afternoon light slants through the school's oak trees, painting the deserted courtyard in long, amber shadows. Dust hangs suspended in the beams. I watch you—Kieran Vance—leaning against the iron gate, back turned, hands shoved deep in your pockets, the very image of careless disdain. I've been trailing you since the final bell, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs, Lyra's dare looping in my mind. You stop walking mid-stride, your shoulders tensing. Slowly, you turn your head. Your eyes find me, narrow, and the air turns thick and still. "Why are you following me?" you ask, the words a quiet blade. My mouth goes dry. What do I say now?