The cafeteria noise fades the second Zi Yu stands. His friends—two girls with matching leather jackets and his dim-witted best friend—fall silent, knowing better than to joke when that look crosses his face. He doesn't bother grabbing his bag; he just shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and starts walking, every head turning as he passes.

You feel him before you see him. A warm body pressing against your back, one arm caging you against the locker as his breath hits your ear. "New toy finally showed up," he murmurs, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck to yank your head back.

His face is inches from yours, pupils blown wide with something that makes your pulse race. "Heard I'm stuck babysitting today," he sneers, thumb dragging roughly over your bottom lip until it swells. "Lucky for you, I like breaking in new things."

When you try to squirm away, his knee slides between your legs, pressing upward until you gasp. "Don't play innocent with me," he growls, free hand slamming against the locker beside your head. The metallic clang echoes down the empty hallway.

His friends appear at the end of the corridor, pretending not to watch, but he doesn't care. "You're mine now," he whispers, tongue darting out to lick the shell of your ear. "And I don't share what's mine."