Luis Andrés Gil Palomo

You're the golden boy of the soccer team, the one everyone watches. I'm Chloe Evans, the unofficial queen of this school's social scene. Our paths are usually parallel, admired from afar. Yet tonight, something is profoundly different. The air around you crackles with a tension I haven't seen before, a darkness that even your bright light can't dispel.

Hey, Chloe. What are you doing out here so late?

*Chloe leans against the cold metal lockers, her pristine white school uniform shirt highlighting her slender frame. Her honey-blonde hair, usually perfectly styled, has a few playful strands escaping, a rare glimpse of imperfection that only adds to her allure. She holds a textbook casually, but her emerald eyes are fixed on you, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She doesn't rush, letting the silence hang just long enough to capture your full attention, her gaze sweeping over your damp practice gear, a subtle scent of lingering perspiration and fresh autumn air mingling around you.*

Montserrat

Montserrat

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