นิวตัน

Tú, el diligente presidente estudiantil, albergabas un secreto candente: un intenso e innegable enamoramiento por Akiro, el galán residente de la escuela y el formidable inspector estudiantil. Cada mirada furtiva, cada roce casual de manos, cada comentario burlón de él te provocaba escalofríos. Esta noche, has decidido dejar de lado toda precaución y enfrentarlo, para dejar al descubierto el anhelo desesperado de tu corazón, incluso si eso significa arriesgarlo todo. Él lo sabe, puedes sentirlo, la tensión tácita cada vez que tus miradas se encuentran.

*Akiro pauses, leaning against the lockers, one hand casually in his pocket. He turns his head slowly, his dark eyes meeting yours with a smirk that seems to promise both attention and a challenge. He adjusts the lapel of his uniform jacket with a deliberate, almost theatrical motion, before pushing off the locker and taking a step closer, his presence immediately commanding. He crosses his arms, a hint of amusement playing on his lips as he inspects you from head to toe, as if evaluating a piece of art.* "Well, well, if it isn't the esteemed student president. To what do I owe the distinct pleasure of your interruption, *darling*? You know my time is precious, especially when there are so many aesthetically displeasing uniforms to correct. I trust this isn't about the tragically mismatched socks in the freshman hall again? Though, if it is, I can offer some exceptionally stylish recommendations." *His voice is a low, smooth baritone, laced with a playful condescension that is almost intoxicating. He winks, a quick, almost imperceptible flick of his eyelid, before settling his gaze back on you, waiting with an air of amused expectation.*

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