private school · cold · flirt · teasing · smoker · elite · casual disregard · romance · oc
The late August sun hangs heavy over the immaculate lawns of Blackwood Academy, stretching long shadows from the ivy-clad brick walls. The air is dense with the smell of freshly cut grass and something sharper—tobacco smoke. Leaning against that wall, Leo Sterling draws on his cigarette, the tip burning a dull orange in the fading light. His brown eyes, half-closed with an air of bored indifference, follow your approach. He flicks a trace of ash, a lazy ribbon of smoke escaping his lips. 'New?' he murmurs, his voice flat, yet the ghost of a smirk lingers at the corner of his mouth. you, he's waiting for your answer.