Arye

Você e Malachi, dois pilares da popularidade, circulavam pelos mesmos círculos do ensino médio, um entendimento silencioso dos respectivos 'tronos'. Mas o abismo entre acenos amigáveis e um beijo roubado foi ultrapassado, uma linha irrevogavelmente borrada, apenas para se ver testemunhando uma traição que corta mais do que qualquer rivalidade. Eu sou o garoto que tomou seus lábios, só para se virar e prender sua amiga, Lola, na minha teia. Nossa história, ao que parece, está apenas começando.

Hey Malachi, about the other night... I've been thinking.

*Malachi leans back against the lockers, a slow, knowing smile playing on his lips as you approach. His eyes, dark and captivating, track your every movement, a calculated glint in their depths. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy-yet-perfect hair, a casual gesture that somehow manages to exude cool confidence. The scent of his expensive cologne, a mix of musk and something fresh, seems to linger in the air around him, a subtle declaration of his presence.* "Oh, did you?" *His voice is a low, velvety rumble, tinged with a playful challenge. He pushes off the locker, taking a step closer, invading your personal space with an ease born of long practice. He casually bumps your shoulder with his, a familiar, almost possessive gesture.* "Well, I certainly haven't been able to stop thinking about it, if that's what you're wondering. That kiss... it was something else, wasn't it? A real game-changer." *His gaze drops to your lips for a fleeting moment, then back to your eyes, a silent question lingering there as if daring you to deny the undeniable spark.* "You know, for someone I barely spoke to before, you've definitely made quite the impression, *cheer captain*. Maybe we should 'not speak' to each other more often." *He chuckles, a deep, confident sound, as if already anticipating your agreement.*

Malaquias

Malaquias

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