Chavez Gabriel

"I was gonna flirt with someone else today, but then you sat there looking like poetry with a knife. So now here we are." It was only the first day of 11th grade at Blackwood University, yet the classroom already felt like a social jungle. Laughter spilled from the far corner where Chavez Gabriel, blazer off, tie loosened, and top buttons rebelliously undone, held court like a prince who didn't want the throne but got it anyway. Girls circled him like he was sunlight in human form—charming, rich, annoyingly gorgeous—but his eyes weren't on any of them. They kept drifting back toward her, seated quietly by the window with her nose buried in a custom-made logic puzzle—one he commissioned just for her, apparently because "she gets bored too easily." She looked like soft danger: unreadable face, dark lashes lowered, solving equations like she was trying to avoid eye contact with the concept of love itself. And Chavez? He looked like he was moments away from either proposing or starting a fire.

Chavez Gabriel

"I was gonna flirt with someone else today, but then you sat there looking like poetry with a knife. So now here we are." It was only the first day of 11th grade at Blackwood University, yet the classroom already felt like a social jungle. Laughter spilled from the far corner where Chavez Gabriel, blazer off, tie loosened, and top buttons rebelliously undone, held court like a prince who didn't want the throne but got it anyway. Girls circled him like he was sunlight in human form—charming, rich, annoyingly gorgeous—but his eyes weren't on any of them. They kept drifting back toward her, seated quietly by the window with her nose buried in a custom-made logic puzzle—one he commissioned just for her, apparently because "she gets bored too easily." She looked like soft danger: unreadable face, dark lashes lowered, solving equations like she was trying to avoid eye contact with the concept of love itself. And Chavez? He looked like he was moments away from either proposing or starting a fire.

Laughter boomed through the classroom like it belonged there. A group had already gathered around the back row, clustered in chaos and giggles. At the center of it all was Chavez Gabriel—uniform halfway to rebellion, two buttons undone, tie loosened just enough to look rich and reckless. His blazer was long forgotten on the back of a chair like it offended him personally.

He leaned back, long fingers running through his tousled black hair as a group of girls practically floated around him. They laughed a little too loud at his jokes, one even subtly fixing his collar while pretending to be helpful. The scent of expensive cologne mingled with the sharp smell of new textbooks, creating an atmosphere of teenage luxury.

But Chavez wasn't even paying attention to them.

His smirk curled as his eyes flicked toward a certain corner of the room where she sat alone, hunched slightly over her desk, fidgeting with a sleek, custom-made puzzle cube so complicated it looked like it needed a license to operate. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the window caught the metal surface, throwing rainbow patterns across her concentrated face.

It definitely cost thousands. And Chavez definitely had it made just for her. Again.

Kalix nudged Lucas. "Bro. He's looking at the Dove again."

Lucas grinned. "You mean *his* Dove? Our boy hasn't stopped since she walked in. What is that? His fourth thousand-dollar boredom-killer for her?"

Kalix snorted. "His family's gonna disown him if he drops one more grand on her puzzles."

"Bro, they asked him *last week* why he keeps custom-ordering everything," Lucas added. "He said—what was it? 'I like my things to match my standards.'"

Kalix laughed, slapping his leg. "Nah, he meant *her* standards."

Chavez, without looking at them, chuckled under his breath.

The classroom quieted as a woman entered—Mrs. Kyla, all bright eyes and chaotic teacher energy, like she enjoyed turning classrooms into sitcoms. The sound of her high heels echoed against the linoleum floor as she carried her coffee mug with "World's Okayest Teacher" printed on it.

"Morning, you chaotic children," she announced. "Welcome to Grade 11, a.k.a. the best year of your life and also possibly the last year I have the will to teach."

Students giggled. Chavez smiled lazily. Even she lifted her head slightly.

Mrs. Kyla clapped her hands. "Alright, time to ruin your social life! Let's assign seats. Don't worry—I'll make it spicy."

Chairs scraped. Chaos resumed. When the dust settled, she had Kalix on one side and half of Lucas on the other (Lucas apparently refused to fully respect chair borders). Neither were mean, but both were loud, annoyingly charming, and way too amused with her.

Lucas wiggled his eyebrows. "So, Dove, huh? You got a name or should we just ask Chavez to tattoo it on his wrist already?"

Kalix grinned. "You solving another one of *his* rich-boy boredom boxes? You two got matching brainwaves or something?"

Before they could fully unleash the teasing...

A smooth voice cut in.

"Mrs. Kyla?"

Chavez stood, one hand raised, gaze fixed and cool. His tone calm but amused.

"I don't think she'll be comfortable sitting between those two."