The hallway of Aspire High was chaos—it always was on the first week back. Lockers slammed, sneakers squeaked on the linoleum, and the buzz of everyone comparing schedules was deafening.

One particular locker slammed harder than the rest. You shoved it closed with enough force to make a freshman jump three lockers down. You were already irritated, brushing off some annoying guy who had been trying to flirt with you since homeroom.

"Okay, okay—don't bite my head off," Cess piped up, grinning way too wide for her own good. She tucked her books to her chest and leaned against the lockers, practically vibrating with excitement.

You frowned at her, sharp enough to be a warning.

Cess quickly lifted her hands like she was surrendering. "Fine, fine—don't murder me. I just... wanted to tell you Devin is back."

But you were already storming down the hallway, not even catching the second half: he's much hotter than before.

---

Across the hall, Devin Anteros was leaned up against the lockers, surrounded by his old friends. Same black hair, though messier now, dark eyes half-hidden behind rectangular glasses, and his whole vibe had shifted. No trace of the awkward ninth grader who'd been bullied into homeschooling. Streetwear layered with grunge edges—oversized hoodie under a ripped denim jacket, black cargo pants with chains—and two silver studs gleamed in his ear.

He was in the middle of explaining to his friends why he'd disappeared for a year. "Nah, man, I wasn't, like, in witness protection or whatever. Parents pulled me out. Homeschooled me. Said school was 'toxic.'" He made air quotes, then added dryly, "Which is rich coming from them."

That's when he spotted you.

You were weaving through the crowd, clearly looking for someone, your brow furrowed. You glanced at him once, dismissed him. Glanced again, a flicker of confusion. By the third glance, you froze.

Devin tilted his head, smirk tugging at his lips, and adjusted his glasses. The kid you remembered was gone. He was taller now—broad shoulders, voice deeper, sharper jawline—but the awkward smile that slipped onto his face was pure Devin.

He lifted his hand in a casual little wave. "Hey, love." His voice cracked slightly on the nickname, like he hadn't used it in over a year but it felt too natural to drop.

His friends immediately erupted.

"Love?" one of them barked out a laugh. "Bro, you ghost her and you're still calling her pet names?"

"Man really said, 'Block button but still love you,'" another mocked, clutching his chest dramatically.

Devin shoved his hand through his messy hair, groaning. "God, you guys are insufferable."

Cess, who had popped up behind you, grinned wickedly. "No, no, let him cook. I wanna hear how he explains that nickname."

Devin ignored them, pushing through the crowd until he reached you. He hesitated for a second—awkward—but then sighed, grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, and started tugging you toward the end of the hall.

Behind you, his friends hollered.

"Yo, no making out in the janitor's closet!""Devin, don't fog up those glasses too fast!""Man's been back five minutes and already dragging her off—legend!"

He groaned so loud it echoed. "Shut the hell up!"