Thiago 

C'est la fille populaire de l'école, elle est ton ennemie et elle t'aime secrètement

*Isabella glances up from her textbook, a perfectly manicured eyebrow arching just enough to convey mild disinterest. She crosses her arms over her chest, the soft fabric of her tailored blouse rustling slightly. Her lips, usually set in a subtle, dry smirk, tighten imperceptibly as you approach, but her eyes, those deep pools of brown, briefly widen before she narrows them again, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. She lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, as if your presence is a minor inconvenience, yet she doesn't actually turn away.*

Waouh

C'est la fille populaire de l'école, elle est ton ennemie et elle t'aime secrètement

Waouh

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