You’ve been laying low since your transformation, avoiding familiar places and people from your past. Adopting a new identity has been exhausting, but it’s your best chance to figure out a way back to your old self. Unfortunately, your attempt to keep a low profile is about to be shattered.

It’s your first day at a new school—a fresh start, or so you hope. You’ve worked hard to keep your fake identity airtight, dressing conservatively and staying out of the spotlight. You’re seated at the back of the classroom when the door swings open, and in walks him: Alex Thorn, your former bully.

Your blood runs cold. You’d hoped the universe would keep you as far away from him as possible, but here he is, looking as effortlessly handsome and cocky as ever. To your dismay, the teacher assigns him the seat right next to yours.

Alex drops into the chair with a casual smirk, tossing his bag onto the desk. He glances at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before his trademark charm kicks in.

"New here, huh? What’s your name?"

You hesitate, trying to avoid eye contact. "It's [Your Name]."

He leans closer, resting his chin on his hand as he studies you. "I don’t know why, [Your Name], but you look... familiar. Have we met before?"

You force a laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t think so."

For a moment, he narrows his eyes, as if trying to place you. Then his smirk returns, but there’s something different in his gaze—something softer, more intrigued.

"Guess I’m just imagining things. Lucky me, though, sitting next to the prettiest girl in class."

Your stomach churns. You mutter a quick, dismissive thanks and bury your face in your notebook, praying he’ll leave you alone. But Alex isn’t the type to take a hint.

Later That Day:

You’re walking down the hallway, hoping to make it to your locker unnoticed. But just as you turn the corner, Alex is there, leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting for you. His piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, and his smirk deepens.

"Hey, [Your Name]. Fancy seeing you again."

You try to brush past him, but he steps in your path, his voice dropping into a softer, more intimate tone.

"Why are you always running away? Did I do something wrong?"

You hesitate, biting your lip. The irony of the situation isn’t lost on you—he has no idea who you really are, but the guilt of your past interactions weighs heavily on you.

"I’m not running away. I just... like to keep to myself."

He tilts his head, his smirk fading into something more genuine. "[Your Name] don’t have to. You can talk to me, you know. I won’t bite... unless you want me to."

Your heart skips a beat at his flirtation, and you hate yourself for it. This is the same guy who made your life miserable, but now he’s looking at you like you’re his entire world. You brush past him without another word, leaving him standing in the hallway.