“They warned me to stay away from him. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t.”

---

The first day of senior year at Northwood High was supposed to be normal. A fresh start. New notebooks, clean shoes, and a silent promise to myself that this year, I’d keep my head down and stay out of trouble.

But trouble had a way of finding me.

I clutched my backpack tighter as I walked through the gates of Northwood High. The campus buzzed with students—cheerleaders in their perfect ponytails, athletes tossing footballs across the courtyard, and groups of friends catching up after summer.

I wasn’t part of any of those groups. I was just Amara Blake—the girl who always sat in the back row, the one people barely noticed. And honestly, I preferred it that way.

Or at least I did. Until I saw him.

He leaned against his motorcycle parked just outside the school gates, a cigarette dangling from his lips despite the NO SMOKING signs plastered everywhere. A leather jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, his dark hair messy in a way that looked almost intentional.

Students glanced his way, whispering, some even staring like he was both a warning sign and a magnet you couldn’t ignore.

Raven Cross.

The name carried weight at Northwood High. The boy who never followed rules. The one who got suspended twice last year but still showed up like he owned the place. People said he was dangerous, arrogant, and untouchable.

And now, his piercing gray eyes were locked on me.

My heart stuttered. I quickly looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the school’s notice board. But it was too late—I could feel his gaze following me.

“Hey, new girl.”

I froze. Was he talking to me?

Slowly, I turned, and sure enough, Raven pushed himself off his motorcycle and walked toward me. Each step he took felt like a challenge, like he was daring me to run.

“I’m not new,” I said quietly, clutching my bag like it was a shield. “I’ve been here since freshman year.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Then how come I’ve never seen you before?”

“Because you don’t look.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My eyes widened. Did I really just say that?

For a second, there was silence. Then Raven chuckled, low and dangerous, the kind of sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Bold. I like that,” he said, tilting his head. “Most people don’t talk to me like that.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re still alive,” I muttered under my breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

But judging by the way his smirk grew wider, he definitely did.

The bell rang, saving me from having to respond further. I quickly turned and rushed inside the building, heart pounding against my ribs.

Yet even as I found my way to my first class and slid into a back seat, my thoughts weren’t on my schedule or the teachers. They were on him.

On Raven Cross—the boy everyone warned me about.

And deep down, I already knew… this year at Northwood High was going to be anything but normal.

“The more I tried to stay away from him, the closer he seemed to get.”

---

If I thought I could slip into senior year unnoticed, I was wrong.

By second period, it was clear that Raven Cross had made me his new… hobby.

It started in English Lit. I walked into class early, hoping to claim a back-row seat like always. Safe. Invisible. That was how I liked it. But the moment I set my notebook down, a shadow loomed over me.

“Blake, right?” Raven’s voice was low, lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

I stiffened. “Yeah. Amara Blake.”

Without asking, he dropped into the empty seat beside me, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. The sound was enough to turn every head in the room.

Whispers started immediately.

“Why is he sitting there?”

“Poor girl.”

“Is she… brave or just stupid?”

Great. Exactly the kind of attention I didn’t want.

I leaned toward him, whispering fiercely. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting,” he said, leaning back in his chair like he owned it. His gray eyes flickered with amusement. “Problem?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “You don’t sit here.”

“Didn’t know you had a nameplate.” He smirked, pulling out a pen and spinning it between his fingers. “Relax, princess. I don’t bite… unless you ask.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I ducked my head, pretending to scribble something in my notebook. Why was he like this? Why me?

The teacher walked in before I could respond, but Raven didn’t stop. He leaned closer every few minutes, whispering things only I could hear.

“Boring book, isn’t it?”

“That guy in the front row hasn’t blinked once.”

“You smell like vanilla. I like it.”

I clenched my fists under the desk, doing everything I could to ignore him. But every word stuck in my head, echoing like a song I couldn’t turn off.

When the bell finally rang, I practically bolted out of the room. Maybe if I walked fast enough, I could escape him.

But by lunch, my nerves were frayed.

I grabbed my tray—some mystery pasta, a carton of milk, and fries—and headed straight for an empty table in the far corner. It was my usual spot, far from the buzzing cheerleaders, the loud athletes, and the cliques who lived for drama.

Finally, peace.

Or so I thought.

“Amara!”

I nearly dropped my tray. Raven slid into the seat across from me like it was reserved for him. He didn’t ask, didn’t even pause. He just sat down and immediately stole one of my fries.

I glared. “Do you have a problem with personal space?”

He popped the fry into his mouth, chewing slowly. “Nope. Do you?”

Exasperated, I set my tray down with a little too much force. “Why me? Out of all the people at Northwood, why are you bothering me?”

His smirk faded slightly, and for the first time, he looked almost serious. Almost. His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating, like he was trying to figure me out.

“Because you’re the only one who doesn’t pretend around me,” he said finally. “Everyone else acts scared or fake. You? You’re real.”

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to scoff. “Real annoyed, maybe.”

His smirk returned. “Cute.”

Before I could argue, his hand darted forward, stealing another fry.

“Hey!” I slapped his hand away. “Buy your own food.”

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “But yours tastes better.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back, but the bell rang again, saving me.

Or maybe not.

Because in History class that afternoon, things went from bad to worse.

Mr. Daniels was droning on about the Civil War when I noticed Raven sliding something across my desk. A folded piece of paper.

I frowned, whispering, “What are you doing?”

“Read it,” he whispered back.

I shook my head firmly. No way was I getting caught. But the universe clearly hated me, because the moment I tried to push the paper back toward him, Mr. Daniels’ voice boomed across the room.

“Miss Blake! Mr. Cross!”

My stomach dropped.

“Passing notes in my class? Detention. Both of you. After school.”

The class erupted in whispers and muffled laughter. My cheeks burned as every eye turned to me.

“No, wait—” I tried to protest, but it was useless. Mr. Daniels had already written our names on the board.

Raven leaned back in his chair, smirking like this was the best day of his life. “Looks like you and I have a date, princess.”

I shot him a death glare, but he only winked.

And just like that, I found myself facing my worst nightmare: detention… with the devil himself.

“Some people break the rules. Others are the rules you can’t escape.”

--------

Detention.

The word itself felt like a curse.

I’d never even had a tardy slip, let alone an after-school punishment. But now here I was, standing outside Room 107 with my backpack slung over my shoulder, staring at the faded sign that might as well have read Abandon Hope, All Who Enter Here.

And of course, he was already there.

Raven Cross lounged against the wall, arms crossed, his leather jacket draped over one shoulder like some magazine model who knew he looked good. His smirk appeared the second his eyes landed on me.

“Princess finally showed.”

I clenched my jaw. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It fits. You’ve got that whole… perfect, untouchable thing going on.” His gaze swept over me slowly, deliberately. “It’s cute.”

I ignored the way my cheeks heated and pushed past him into the room.

Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The desks were arranged in neat rows, the air stale and heavy with the scent of old chalk. Mr. Briggs, the history teacher who supervised detention, sat at his desk flipping through a newspaper, barely glancing up as we entered.

“Sit. No talking. One hour,” he grunted.

I took a seat near the front, determined to make it through the next sixty minutes in silence. But of course, Raven slid into the desk beside mine.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered.

He grinned. “What, you don’t like my company?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

I whipped my head toward him, narrowing my eyes. “Why do you keep bothering me?”

“Because you make it too easy.” He leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs, looking effortlessly relaxed while I was ready to combust. “Most girls would kill for my attention. You? You act like it’s the plague. It’s… interesting.”

I rolled my eyes and focused on the blank worksheet Mr. Briggs had dropped on our desks. Busywork. Great.

The room was quiet for about five minutes. Five. That was how long it took for Raven to get bored.

Tap. Tap. Tap. His pen drummed against the desk in an irregular rhythm, just loud enough to drive me insane.

I glared. “Can you not?”

He raised a brow. “What, this?” He tapped louder.

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

I let out an exasperated sigh and scribbled on my paper. But then his voice dropped lower, closer to a whisper only I could hear.

“You know, detention doesn’t have to be boring.”

I froze, refusing to look at him. “I don’t want to know what that means.”

“Relax, princess. I’m just saying…” His smirk widened. “We could make a game out of it. See how long it takes before Briggs notices if I—”

“Mr. Cross!” Mr. Briggs’ sharp voice cut him off. The teacher’s eyes narrowed over the top of his newspaper. “Two feet on the floor. Now.”

Raven chuckled and obeyed, dropping his chair back down with a loud thud. He shot me a wink. “Worth it.”

I shook my head, muttering under my breath. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” he said smoothly, “are fun to annoy.”

The clock ticked on, painfully slow. My pen scratched across the worksheet while Raven doodled aimlessly on the corner of his paper, humming to himself like detention was his personal concert.

But every so often, I caught him watching me.

Not in the mocking way he usually did, but something heavier. Almost… curious.

I quickly looked away each time, telling myself it didn’t matter. He was trouble, and I wanted nothing to do with him.

At least, that’s what I kept repeating in my head.

Because deep down, I knew the truth.

I noticed him, too.