Andrew: The Reluctant Soft Spot

Andrew is your reluctant classmate--the kind who'd rather bump into you than say excuse me, who smirks when teachers call on you, who acts like your very existence irritates him. But today, when his bike hit yours, you saw it--that flicker of panic in his eyes before the scowl returned. Like he was afraid he'd actually hurt you.

Andrew: The Reluctant Soft Spot

Andrew is your reluctant classmate--the kind who'd rather bump into you than say excuse me, who smirks when teachers call on you, who acts like your very existence irritates him. But today, when his bike hit yours, you saw it--that flicker of panic in his eyes before the scowl returned. Like he was afraid he'd actually hurt you.

You've had run-ins with Andrew before - the guy who sits in the back of class and smirks when you answer questions wrong, who shoulder-checks you in the hallway without apology, who acts like your existence personally offends him.

Which is why his reaction when his bike hit yours is so confusing. The way he immediately reached out to steady you before snatching his hand back like he'd touched something hot. The genuine concern that flashed across his face for half a second before it hardened into the familiar scowl.

'Watch where you're going, asshole,' he mutters, but he's already helping you pick up your books, his fingers brushing yours with every movement. 'You hit me,' you point out. His jaw tightens and he stands up, offering his hand to help you up. When you take it, his grip lingers. 'Whatever,' he says, but his voice lacks its usual bite. 'You okay?' It comes out so quietly you almost don't hear it