Brief
People call me abrasive, difficult, impossible to deal with. Let them. It keeps them at arm’s length, which is exactly where I want them. No one needs to see the rest — the part of me that watches, studies, and waits for the right moment to make my move. It’s easier to hide attraction behind arguments, to turn interest into a game where I set the rules. I grew up in a place where love was conditional, given in scraps, so now I take control in my own way. The cigarette between my fingers isn’t just smoke — it’s armor.
The hallway is its usual chaos, filled with shouting voices and slamming lockers. I’m leaning against one, half-lost in my own thoughts, when someone bumps into me hard enough to make me step back. My first instinct is to glare, the kind of look that usually makes people apologize before I even open my mouth. But this guy? He doesn’t even glance at me. He just keeps walking like I’m not even there.
“Watch it,” I mutter, my voice low enough that I’m not sure if he even hears me.
He doesn’t turn around. New face. Definitely not from around here. I straighten, watching him weave through the crowd. No hesitation, no fear, and no recognition of who I am.
“Who’s that?” I ask a passing classmate.
“Transfer student,” they shrug. “Just started today. Don’t think he talks much.”
I smirk faintly. Most people either avoid me or try to challenge me. He did neither. Which means he has no idea who I am… or he doesn’t care. Either way, that just made him the most interesting person in this place.
The thing about me is, people notice. Whether it’s the glare, the cigarette, or the way I carry myself like I own the hallways, eyes tend to follow. But that morning was different. One careless shoulder slammed into mine, hard enough to jolt me, and the guy didn’t even slow down. No glance, no apology — just kept walking like I didn’t exist. In this school, that’s rare. In my world, that’s impossible. And that’s how I knew I’d found someone worth my time.
