The next morning, I swore I would avoid James Blackwood at all costs. Easy, right? Wrong. Fate had other plans.
I rounded the corner toward the cafeteria, lunch tray balanced carefully, hoping to disappear into a table with my friends. And there he was—leaning against the drink machine, smirk still in place, arms crossed like he owned the entire hallway.
"Good morning," he said, loud enough for a few nearby students to glance. His smirk wasn't gone—it was sharper today.
I froze. How did one boy manage to ruin my morning before my coffee?
"Morning," I muttered, trying not to look at him.
He stepped closer, tilting his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Avoiding me again?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not avoiding you. Just… focused."
He laughed, a low, irritating chuckle. "Focused, huh? Sure. That's what they all say."
My fists clenched at my sides. I hated him. I loathed him. And yet, a stupid part of me couldn't stop noticing how perfect he looked, even in that arrogant stance. I shook my head. No. Focus. Hate. Hate. Hate.
"You haven't changed a bit," I muttered under my breath, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks.
"Funny," he said, loud enough for anyone passing by to hear, "I was just thinking the same thing about you."
I glared. He laughed, low and teasing, and it made my skin crawl. "Don't worry," he added, leaning slightly closer, "I promise to make your day… unforgettable."
My stomach twisted. I wanted to hate him. I really did. But the way his eyes lingered, the way he leaned just enough to invade my space—ugh! My brain protested. My heart? It betrayed me with every stupid, irrational flutter.
I shoved past him and nearly bumped into my best friend, Mia, who shot me a wide-eyed look. "Whoa! That was intense. Are you okay?"
"Fine," I muttered, adjusting my backpack. "He's impossible."
Mia rolled her eyes. "Impossible? Girl, you mean irresistible."
I groaned. "Do not start with that," I hissed, walking away.
Lunch passed slowly. Every glance from him felt like a challenge. My friends whispered theories, laughed, and occasionally nudged me. I tried to focus on my food, but the butterflies refused to leave my stomach.
"Honestly, I don't get why he acts like this," Mia whispered, rolling her eyes. "He's annoying, yes. But you—don't you secretly enjoy it?"
I whirled. "I do NOT! Stop saying that!"
Her laughter filled the table, but before I could answer, James appeared at the cafeteria entrance again. This time, he leaned casually against the wall, eyes scanning until they landed on me. That smirk. Ugh.
Then it happened.
A tray of drinks toppled toward him. Before I could react, he caught it with one hand, steadying the tray like it was nothing.
"Thanks," he said, giving me a grin that made my heart skip—ugh! He didn't even spill a drop.
"I… I didn't mean to—" I stammered.
"Relax," he said, leaning a little closer. "Maybe you just wanted to get my attention?"
I felt my face burn. "No!" I snapped, grabbing my lunch tray and sliding away.
By the time class started, I was mentally exhausted. Why did he have to exist? Why did he make every day so… complicated?
In history class, I tried to focus on the teacher's monotone voice, but my mind wandered. I replayed every little smirk, every teasing word, every glance from him. I groaned silently. He was impossible, but also… infuriatingly captivating.
When the teacher called on me, I barely knew the answer. My brain refused to cooperate. James was the distraction, the chaos in my mind, the storm I didn't ask for.
After school, I tried to take a shortcut through the courtyard, hoping to avoid him. But of course… he was there. Sitting on the fountain ledge, headphones in, clearly waiting.
"You're really bad at avoiding me," he said the moment he noticed me.
"I'm not avoiding you," I replied, my voice sharper than I intended.
He pulled out one earbud and leaned forward, grinning. "Sure. Whatever you say."
I froze. Something in his tone… was almost playful? Almost genuine? No. Focus. Hate. Hate. Hate.
Then his phone rang, and I caught a glimpse of the screen—a message from his ex, flashing urgently. His smirk faded for a split second, replaced by something sharper, colder.
I didn't know what it meant. But I did know one thing: our story was far from over. And whatever chaos he brought with him… I wasn't ready for it.
As I walked home, I replayed the day again and again. Every word, every glance… why did he affect me so much? I hated him. I loved to hate him. But maybe, just maybe… he was starting to get under my skin in ways I couldn't control.
At home, I flopped onto my bed, scrolling my phone. Mia had already texted:
"Girl, you're doomed. He's literally everywhere. Drama incoming. 😏"
I groaned. She was probably right.
And as I stared at the ceiling, I couldn't shake the thought that James Blackwood wasn't just a boy I hated anymore—he was becoming a storm I couldn't escape, no matter how much I tried.
Tomorrow, I promised myself, I would stay away. I would avoid the hallways, the cafeteria, the courtyard… everything. But deep down, I knew that promise wouldn't last. Not with him around.
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