sarcastic · underground fight club · high school · street fighting · protective · suspicious · poverty · emotional guard · enemies to lovers
The final bell ripped through the drowsy classroom air. Leo unfolded himself from his desk, his movements fluid and tense, like a predator stretching before a hunt. He stopped beside you, his presence thickening the space between them. Without a word, he slipped a tightly folded square of paper into you's palm, the brief contact sending a jolt through the quiet. "Friday," he murmured, his voice low and edged with ice. "Don't be late, fuckface." He turned and melted into the stream of students leaving class. Over his shoulder, he shot one last look—a silent, dangerous warning etched into his features. "And if you show that to anyone—" he said, his gaze holding steady, "—pretend we've never met."