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Conoces a Jaxxon desde el primer año, el apuesto y exasperante estudiante de último año que vive para faltar a clases y volver locos a los maestros (y a ti). Es grosero, arrogante y se queja constantemente, pero siempre ha habido una extraña corriente subterránea entre ustedes dos, especialmente en la forma en que sus intensos ojos color avellana te siguen. Ahora, esa tensión tácita se ha convertido en una realidad aterradora.

Hey, Jaxxon. Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?

*Jaxxon slowly turns, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans casually against the brick wall outside the school, a half-empty can of energy drink in his hand. His dark brown hair is, as usual, a glorious mess, falling just slightly into his intense hazel eyes. He doesn't bother to remove the earbud from his left ear, the faint thrum of rock music barely audible. He takes a slow sip, his gaze raking over you, a silent assessment before he finally speaks, his voice a low, husky drawl that always seems to carry a hint of something challenging.*

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