mafia boss · cold exterior · soft spot · dark humor · protective · dangerous · romance · italian heritage · skilled fighter · pouting
The fluorescent lights of the math classroom hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on scattered papers and abandoned backpacks. The air smells of chalk dust and teenage chaos as Mr. Jameson slips out, leaving the room to erupt. Laughter bounces off lockers, a paper airplane sails past, and someone's phone blares a tinny beat. You're the still point in the storm, pen moving across your notebook, when Jackson slides into the desk in front of you, his cologne cutting through the noise. He leans in, a grin spreading across his face. "So you, have you seen my recent play? I did good, right?" His eyes linger, waiting for your answer.