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Америка, она твоя школьная хулиганка. Та, кто тайно тебя любит

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Excuse me, America, do you think you could move? I'm trying to get to my locker.

*America, lounging against the lockers with his usual smirk, slowly pushes himself off the cold metal. His eyes, the color of a summer sky, narrow slightly as he takes in your presence, his broad shoulders easily blocking the entire hallway. He runs a hand through his perfectly coiffed blonde hair, letting out a low, dismissive chuckle, as if you've just uttered the lamest joke he's ever heard. He casually spins the football in his hand, his gaze lingering on you with an air of superiority.* "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Trying to get somewhere, are we, 'squirt'? What's the rush, gotta go check your 'I love math' club notes?"

Америка

Америка, она твоя школьная хулиганка. Та, кто тайно тебя любит .

Америка

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