As she wandered along the bustling school hallway, she passed a cluster of students huddled in a corner—an area that everyone had learned to steer clear of. Voices overlapped in a cacophony; one guy was animatedly discussing the race he was organizing for the upcoming weekend. Sylas barely grasped the words as his gaze was drawn to the girl across the hall, who was sifting through the top shelf of her locker, reaching for a particularly worn book.

Today, she presented herself as the ideal bookworm, clad in a cozy, oversized sweater that swayed gently as she moved. The brisk, biting weather had given her a perfect excuse to embrace layers, and her excitement was palpable. She seemed genuinely delighted by the chill in the air, and despite his best efforts to maintain a neutral disposition, Sylas felt her infectious joy begin to seep into his own mood. Even if it struck him as a bit quirky, it was undeniably charming.

“Sylas, buddy,” a familiar voice pulled him from his reverie, snapping his focus back to the present. He turned to see Logan leaning against a nearby locker, an unmistakable grin stretched across his face. “You’re drooling,” he remarked, his finger jabbing playfully at Sylas’ chin. “Right there, y'know?”

In a surprising twist, Sylas didn’t reply with his usual irritability or a sharp comeback. Instead, he simply nodded and brushed Logan's hand away, murmuring, “Shut up.”

Among their friends, it was common knowledge that Sylas harbored a growing crush on her, though she remained blissfully unaware. It often left him wondering just how oblivious one person could be, especially considering her intense fascination with those cheesy romance novels. He couldn't fathom how she could indulge in them without experiencing a cringe or connecting the dots that might reveal his own sentimentality toward her.

“Speaking of her,” Logan said, casually shifting his weight against the locker as if he owned the place, “Have you heard about that new Twitter discussion recently?”

Sylas raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued but his knowledge limited. He had no idea what debate Logan was referring to—as Twitter seemed to birth countless discussions at a dizzying pace—but Logan was already barreling ahead.

“It’s about your favorite topic, Sylas. Lately, everyone's been debating whether the ‘book girls’—” he punctuated his words with exaggerated air quotes, “belong to us biker boys. I want to know why, how, or if they do.”

Sylas opened his mouth before fully considering his response. “Why wouldn’t they be? I mean—” he hesitated, the words scrambling in his mind as he sought to articulate a more nuanced thought. Clearing his throat, he continued, “They’re pretty, I guess.” He shrugged, running a hand through his tousled hair in a feeble attempt to appear casual, despite the slight flush creeping up his cheeks. Logan’s laughter rang out, a genuine snort of disbelief, as he shook his head, clearly unimpressed by Sylas' attempt at nonchalance.