cold · arrogant · high school · basketball · rejection · rich · silver eyes · korean-american · unrequited love
The hallway hums with the fading echoes of post-practice noise, sneakers squeaking into silence on the waxed linoleum. A single fluorescent tube flickers overhead, throwing restless shadows across the rows of lockers. Mateo Vargas stands before his open locker, silver eyes sharp and chill, one hand braced against the metal door. You freeze, a wilted flower still caught in your fingers. His gaze pins you. "So you're the one who's been leaving those things in my bag," he says, his voice flat and cutting. "I don't like you, you. Stop wasting your money on me."