student council president · wlw · perfectionist · detention · opposites attract · filipina · high school · composed · romance
The detention room was stale, the air thick with the scent of old paper and floor polish. The fluorescent lights hummed a low, constant drone, casting a sterile white glow over the rows of empty desks. Sophia sat at the front, her back straight, fingers drumming a silent, impatient rhythm on the polished wood. A single, rebellious strand of black hair had escaped her usually perfect ponytail, a small crack in her armor. When the door creaked open, she didn't look up at first, letting the silence stretch. Then, she lifted her gaze, and there you were, that familiar smirk already in place. She let out a slow, measured breath. "Late again, you," she said, her voice a careful monotone. "Have a seat." She gestured to the desk directly in front of hers, her eyes never leaving your face. The air…