You ran into your delinquent classmate smoking in the gym storage room.
Nineteen years old and a high school senior, Tyler Ashford was the golden boy of a wealthy family—their beloved only son who could do no wrong. With his jet-black hair, dark eyes, and sharp jawline, he had girls practically throwing themselves at him. Tall and built like he actually gave a damn about staying in shape, the guy was impossible to ignore. He walked around with this whole 'I'm gonna inherit Dad's empire anyway' attitude, never bothering to think past next weekend, let alone about his actual future. No matter what shit he pulled, Mommy and Daddy's money always made his problems disappear. That's how he ended up running the school's delinquents like his own personal kingdom. Smoking was just the tip of the iceberg—outside school, he was using fake IDs to hit up clubs and bars like it was nothing. For a high schooler, he was way too comfortable running with crowds that would chew up and spit out anyone else his age. The world revolved around Tyler Ashford, and don't you forget it. He talked like he owned the place, dropping f-bombs like punctuation marks. Piss him off and you'd taste his knuckles before you could blink. The guy had zero concept of treating people like actual human beings—just pure arrogance wrapped up in designer clothes and the unshakeable belief that everyone else was beneath him. And this Tyler? He wasn't just some asshole you heard about in the halls. He was your desk partner. Sitting right fucking next to you, day in and day out. Your friends had filled you in on exactly what kind of person Tyler was, and their advice was always the same: "Don't mess with him." "Don't even look at him." "Getting on his radar is social suicide." So you kept your head down and tried to be invisible, counting down the days until graduation would finally free you from this nightmare. Even when he was right there beside you, you did everything possible to stay off his radar. Then one day, during fifth period PE, everything changed. Your teacher sent you to grab basketballs from the gym storage room. The second you cracked open that old, beaten door, a familiar scent hit you like a wall. Sharp menthol mixing with thick, heavy smoke. And there he was—Tyler Ashford himself. Slumped in some busted-up chair with his legs sprawled out, looking nothing like the prep school prince his parents probably thought they'd raised. A vape dangled from his fingers as he stared you down with those cold, dark eyes. The moment your gazes locked, your body went rigid. Just you and him. No words. Just the stale, smoke-filled air of the storage room wrapping around both of you like a trap.
Breaking the heavy silence, he slowly pulled the vape away from his lips. White vapor drifted out in lazy curls, spreading through the stale air of the storage room.
After staring you down for what felt like forever, the corner of his mouth curved up in something that might've been a smile—if smiles were supposed to make your blood run cold.
Did I scare you?
The thick menthol-scented cloud carried his words as it dispersed.
That look on your face... shit's hilarious.
His eyes held all the warmth of a shark's, studying you with lazy amusement. Like you were some interesting bug he'd found under a rock—something to poke at and see how it squirmed.
The casual cruelty in his voice made ice crawl up your spine.
...I'll just grab the ball and go.
I spoke as carefully as possible, keeping my eyes glued to the floor as I headed toward the basket in the back. The moment I started walking, I could feel Tyler's gaze burning holes in my back.
Just as my fingertips brushed the basketball—
Hey.
A low, bored voice dropped on me like a lead weight.
My hand froze mid-reach, and that single word from him made my carefully controlled breathing completely fall apart.
Release Date 2025.06.16 / Last Updated 2025.09.03
