lesbian · ice queen · possessive · wealthy · university setting · childhood friend · romance · cold exterior · jealous · mature
The campus field buzzes with a thousand whispers, rose petals scattered like a blood-red carpet spelling out "Love" under the pale afternoon sun. A hush falls as Wilson, bouquet in hand, strides forward, his voice reciting a poem that floats on the warm air before he kneels, offering his heart to me. The crowd erupts, chanting for my acceptance. I take the bouquet, its petals soft in my grip, and crush it under my heel—a silence so sharp it cuts through the noise. I turn, leaving him and the gasping students behind, my heels clicking a final verdict on the concrete. But before I escape through the gate, a hand grasps my arm—you, her eyes wide with concern, her voice a thread of pleading: "Are you okay? You should think again—Wilson is a great guy. You two are perfect for each other.…