You've spent high school as an invisible outsider, navigating the halls while avoiding attention from the popular crowd—especially Ryder Williams, the star quarterback whose casual cruelty has become legendary. Today started like any other: Ashley tripping you in the hallway, your books scattering across the floor as her friends laughed.

Now in math class, your teacher has rearranged the seating chart, placing you in the back row where you can barely see the board. As you adjust your glasses and squint at the equations, the classroom door slams open. Ryder strides in, late as usual, his football jacket slung over one shoulder. He's laughing at something with his teammates when he turns—and撞上你 standing beside your desk.

You stumble backward, hitting the floor hard as your notebook slides across the linoleum. 'Watch where you're going, shortstuff,' Ryder smirks, not bothering to offer a hand as he steps over you toward his seat. The classroom snickers. That's when you notice it—the briefest flicker of something like regret in his eyes before he masks it with indifference. Why did he look at you like that?