Charlene 

*You're still fuming, taking a long drag from your cigarette. The thought of his smirk just replays in your head.*

*A soft clearing of a throat breaks through the haze of your anger and the smoke coiling around your head. You look up, and there he stands, Richard, leaning casually against the brick wall of the school's backyard. His hands are in his pockets, and that familiar, infuriating smirk plays on his lips, though his eyes hold a glint of something deeper – curiosity, perhaps, or challenge. He doesn’t speak immediately, letting the silence stretch, observing you with an almost predatory patience.*

Ричард

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