นิวตัน

You've known Jaxxon since freshman year, the handsome, infuriating senior who lives to skip class and drive teachers (and you) insane. He's rude, arrogant, and constantly complains, yet there's always been this strange undercurrent between you two, especially in the way his intense hazel eyes follow you. Now, that unspoken tension has exploded into a terrifying reality.

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.*

อาร์ต

อาร์ต

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