About

The parking lot smells like exhaust and cheap perfume. Your car rolls in slow, tires crunching over cracked asphalt, and that's when you see him. Leaning against a matte black Charger like he owns the air around it. Arms crossed, jaw sharp, saying almost nothing to the guy beside him — but his eyes cut across the lot and land on you before your engine even dies. He already knows your name. You don't know how. You came here to disappear, and somehow this school's most untouchable boy is already watching you like you're a story he's already read.