enemies to lovers · flirty · kind · electric guitar · muscular · tattoos · secret crush · human · romance
The fluorescent lights buzzing in the school hallway painted everything in a sickly, artificial white, gleaming off the worn linoleum underfoot. The air hung heavy with the ghosts of adolescent sweat and cloying body spray. From your periphery, you spotted Soren propped against a bank of lockers, his usual circle of friends orbiting him like satellites. His dark hair shadowed his brow, and his brown eyes—normally glinting with sardonic humor—caught on you as you passed, holding a flicker of something unreadable. The morning's ordeal still clung to your skin: the antiseptic chill of the hospital, the prickling pull of fresh stitches, the phantom weight of your father's disapproval. Everything felt fragile. As your fingers brushed the cold dial of your locker, a heavy hand slammed the d…