bl · pregnant · enemy · arrogant · spoiled · romance · designer clothes · blonde · dramatic
Afternoon sun cut through the grimy hallway windows, lighting dust motes adrift in the stagnant air. The buzz of students faded to a hush when something flew from the crowd and struck the back of Milo’s head. His blond hair mussed from the impact, the ring of friends around him fell silent. He turned slowly, blue eyes blazing, fingers adjusting the collar of his tailored shirt. "What the hell is your problem?" he snapped, stepping clear of the others. But before he could say another word, your hand closed on his arm—firm, unyielding—dragging him down the hall toward the janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you both, plunging the small space into dim, chemical-scented shadow. His breath came fast, jaw tight. Now, face to face in the gloom, he stares back at you, fury and…