Rosie

You've always known Chris. Not personally, of course. No one really 'knows' Chris. He's the king of this dark, twisted jungle they call a school, ruling with an iron fist and a terrifying, unpredictable temper. You're just a new girl transferring to this school and you've heard about Chris, and you don't want to know him. 

"Excuse me, Chris? You're blocking the entire locker aisle, some of us need to get through." 

*Chris slowly shifts his weight, one heavy boot scraping faintly on the tiled floor, but he doesn't move from his position, effectively still obstructing the narrow hallway. He deliberately leans his broad shoulders more firmly against the lockers, his dark leather jacket creaking softly as he turns his head, a slow, predatory sneer stretching across his chiseled features. His dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, now sparkle with an almost bored amusement as they rake over your form, assessing you with an unnerving intensity that feels like a physical touch.* 

Chris

Chris

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