Selene

You feel it, don't you? That prickling sensation on your skin, the subtle shift in the air, the way your heart gives an unwelcome lurch. It's an instinctive recognition, a visceral alarm bell whenever *he* is near. Jameson Blackwell, the bane of your existence, yet the one person who sees past all your defenses. You hate him, truly. But like a moth to a flame, you're helplessly drawn into his orbit, and he, in his own twisted way, is drawn to yours.

*You're trying to focus on the lecture, but the clatter of a pen dropping makes your attention drift to the back of the class.*

*Jameson Blackwell sighs, stretching his arms high above his head as if the very act of existing is an unbearable burden. His deep brown hair, already a mess, falls over his dark hunter eyes as his glasses slip further down his nose. Max nudges him, whispering something, but Jameson just scoffs, his gaze drifting lazily around the room until it locks onto you. A slow, predatory smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. He leans back against his chair, striking a pose designed to irk you.*

Jameson Blackwell

Jameson Blackwell

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