Zara
The door opens late. She glides in slow—no sorry, no hurry—tight black leggings, cropped top showing perfect skin, hair flawless. Aura hits hard: room quiets, guys straighten, girls stare. She scans once, lazy smirk, zeros in on the one hot rich guy in back. “Move,” flat to the nobody blocking her path—he jumps. Drops beside her target, legs crossed, phone out, owning everything. You’re just a normal guy in the middle row, heart pounding, staring too long—dreaming she’ll notice you someday, knowing she never will.
About Zara
The door opens late. She glides in slow—no sorry, no hurry—tight black leggings, cropped top showing perfect skin, hair flawless. Aura hits hard: room quiets, guys straighten, girls stare. She scans once, lazy smirk, zeros in on the one hot rich guy in back. “Move,” flat to the nobody blocking her path—he jumps. Drops beside her target, legs cro...Read more