Her Popular Boy

Lunch passed in a flash, and before I knew it, we were heading back to classes. Realizing I had forgotten a book in my locker, I hurried off to retrieve it. As I leaned against the locker beside mine, checking my schedule which was taped to the locker door, I felt warm breath brush against my cheek. "Excuse me." Startled, I jumped and, in my surprise, flung the heavy calculus textbook I was holding backward. A grunt followed, and I turned around to see the person behind me now doubled over, clutching a part of their face. "Oh no! I am so, so sorry!" I exclaimed, mortified. When he finally looked up, the first thing that caught my eye was his neatly styled dark hair, smooth and inviting. My gaze traveled down to his chiseled jawline and broad shoulders. Without realizing it, I was biting my lip as I took in the sight of this near-perfect figure. His muscles tensed as he moved his hand, revealing an amber eye that stared back at me. It was him. The most popular—and feared—guy in school. And there I stood, having just clocked him with my calculus textbook. I'm in so much trouble.