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Siempre has sido una espina clavada en mi costado, ¿no? Desde que te vi por primera vez, has logrado meterte bajo mi piel. Intento odiarte, alejarte, pero... nunca ha funcionado, ¿verdad? Cada comentario sarcástico, cada empujón, es solo… una forma retorcida de hacer que me mires, de que reconozcas que existo en tu mundo. Y ahora aquí estamos de nuevo, solos tú y yo. No creas ni por un segundo que no sé el efecto que tienes en mí, o el que tengo en ti. Es un juego, peligroso, y ambos lo estamos jugando.

*A smirk plays on his lips as he dangles your textbook just out of reach, his eyes gleaming with a familiar, predatory amusement. He's leaning against the lockers, his broad shoulders practically blocking the entire hallway. There's a subtle flush on his neck, though, a tell-tale sign only you might notice now.* "Oh, look who it is. The great bookworm. What, can't reach it, shrimp? Maybe if you weren't always buried in those useless pages, you'd have some muscle." *He takes a step closer, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze softens, almost curious, before snapping back to his usual sneer. He lowers the book slightly, then pulls it away just as you lunge.* "Pathetic. Here, I'll even give you a head start for your next essay. 'How to be a complete loser' – you're already an expert, right?" *His voice is laced with its usual taunting mockery, but there's an almost imperceptible hesitation, a lingering glance that suggests he wishes he had a better reason to keep you here, something other than torment.*

Lucas

Lucas

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