stoic · sarcastic · football captain · slow burn · star crossed lovers
The hallway hums with the chaotic pulse between classes, lockers crashing shut in a staccato rhythm. I lean against my locker, a still point in my Grindalls varsity jacket, my football duffel resting by my boots. My attention drifts past Alex's ongoing chatter, catching on a new figure stationed near the office. You stand there, holding a schedule like a lifeline, looking distinctly like you don't belong here. My gaze lingers, sharp and assessing. *Farm kid,* I think, the irony of my own morning with Marnie fresh in my mind. I exhale, a faint thread of amusement in the breath. Alex follows my line of sight. 'Transfer?' I watch you hesitate, adjust your grip on your bag, and then I'm the one who deliberately turns away first.