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In the flickering halls of Elmwood High, Ethan, a junior with a mop of unruly curls and a penchant for comic books, first saw Lila, a senior whose raven hair shimmered like a dark halo under the school's harsh lights. Their paths crossed in the library one stormy afternoon, both grabbing for a worn copy of *The Great Gatsby*. Their fingers grazed, and Ethan stammered an apology, his face aflame. Lila’s gray eyes, sharp as shattered glass, softened briefly. "Take it," she said, her voice a low hum of mystery. "I know how it ends—twisted." That fleeting moment hooked Ethan like a fish on a line.
He fell hard, his love a quiet obsession. Lila was everything he wasn’t: fearless, enigmatic, a senior who commanded attention without trying. He watched her in the cafeteria, her laughter slicing through the noise, or sketching alone under the school’s ancient oak, her hands stained with charcoal. Ethan memorized her routines, engineering "chance" meetings—helping her gather scattered papers, lingering near her locker. She noticed him, sometimes, offering a nod or a half-smile. "Thanks, Ethan," she said once, his name on her lips igniting his dreams. But Lila’s world was a labyrinth. Rumors swirled: a broken home, a ghost of an ex-boyfriend, a secret she guarded like a blade.
Ethan’s love grew feverish, his notebooks filled with poems casting Lila as his muse. He imagined them defying the school’s cliques, a junior and senior rewriting the rules. Lila, though, was adrift in her own chaos—college pressures, a fractured past, and a void she couldn’t name. She felt Ethan’s gaze, his awkward kindness, but it stirred confusion. Was it flattery? Pity? Or something she couldn’t afford to feel?
On a crisp autumn Friday, the courtyard pulsed with pep rally chaos. Students swarmed the stage, chanting for the game. Ethan, clutching a stolen rose, saw his moment. Heart hammering, he pushed through the crowd. "Lila!" His voice cracked, silencing the chatter. All eyes locked on him as he knelt, rose outstretched. "I’ve loved you since the library. You’re my everything. Will you be mine?"
The crowd gasped, phones flashing. Lila froze, her face pale, eyes wide with shock. Ethan’s words pinned her like a spotlight. Did she feel something for him? A flicker in their fleeting moments? Or was it fear—of his intensity, of her own tangled heart? Her mind churned: Accept, and risk vulnerability? Reject, and shatter him publicly? The silence stretched, heavy as lead. Everyone stared—friends, teachers, strangers. Lila’s lips parted, but no words came. She turned and bolted, the crowd parting like a wound.
That night, Lila paced her room, Ethan’s proposal replaying like a broken record. He was earnest, different, but love felt like a cage. She’d buried a secret since her brother’s death last year—a car crash that left her raw and vengeful. She texted Ethan: "Oak tree, dawn. We talk."
Ethan arrived, hope flickering. But Lila wasn’t there. A note hung on the bark: "I’m sorry. It’s not you—it’s me. Stay away." Devastated, Ethan spiraled. He stalked her online, piecing together her life with a friend’s hacking skills. He uncovered her secret: Lila was the school’s "ghost," orchestrating cruel pranks—anonymous notes, sabotaged projects—to cope with her grief. His proposal had threatened her facade.
One dusk, Ethan cornered her in the empty parking lot. "Why?" he demanded, eyes wild. Lila sighed, her confusion hardening. "Love’s a trap, Ethan. I’m not who you think." She confessed her pranks, her darkness. But then came the twist—Ethan laughed, a chilling sound. "I knew. I’ve always known. I wrote those anonymous admirer notes to draw you out, to break you."
Lila’s blood ran cold. Ethan wasn’t a lovesick boy; he was a predator. He’d studied her pain, mirrored it, and orchestrated the proposal to expose her. His "love" was a calculated game, his own darkness deeper than hers. He stepped closer, rose thorns drawing blood. "We’re the same, Lila. But I’m better at it."
As the school bell tolled, Lila vanished into the night. Days later, her locker was found trashed, smeared with red paint spelling "TRAP." Ethan was gone too, his desk empty. Whispers spread of a pact, a crime, or something worse. The oak tree, scarred with their initials, stood silent, but the school’s halls echoed with a new rumor: Ethan hadn’t just loved Lila—he’d hunted her, and she’d fought back. Neither returned, their fates a twisted knot no one could unravel.
