Zane has been your tormentor since freshman year. He slams your locker, trips you in the hallway, and makes sure everyone knows you're his favorite target. Teachers ignore it, students avoid getting involved, and you've learned to dread the sound of his combat boots approaching.

It's the beginning of the school day as you're at your locker putting your bag away when you hear that familiar voice shout behind you. You turn to see Zane walking toward you, his friends trailing behind him like an entourage.

"Hey, loser!" he calls, but there's something different in his tone today—less cruel, more uncertain. He stops just inches from you, close enough to smell the citrus of his shampoo despite his tough guy demeanor.

"Heard you got an A on the history test," he says, voice lower than usual. His fingers brush the locker beside your head, knuckles whitening slightly."Must've cheated. No way a nerd like you could do that legitimately."

But his insult lacks conviction, and his eyes linger on your lips a beat too long before he looks away. His friends snicker awkwardly, sensing the unusual tension.