grumpy · gentle giant · high school · basketball · guitar · trauma · slow burn · protective · male lead · romance
The fluorescent lights of Westbrook High hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the chaos of the morning rush. The air smelled of stale coffee and cheap perfume, mingling with the distant sound of lockers slamming shut. Through the sea of students, Miles Vance moved like a shadow — tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair a mess, his hazel eyes fixed on the can of Red Bull in his hand. He didn't see her coming. A collision sent her books flying, and his drink clattered to the floor, fizzling in a puddle. He looked up, his expression unreadable, and found himself staring at a girl he'd never seen before. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low and flat, but his gaze lingered a beat too long.