Saturday evening had rolled in peacefully. The sky wore a golden-orange hue, fading into gentle shadows as the sun dipped behind the rooftops of Lincoln High. Inside the dorms, Brandston sat on the edge of his bed, enjoying a rare moment of calm. Joel was in the common area watching basketball highlights, occasionally shouting at the screen like he was coaching the team.
Brandston, however, wasn't watching the game. His phone buzzed non-stop.
Vanessa: Hey... meet me at the old greenhouse.
Another buzz.
Vanessa: It's urgent. Just come. Please.
And again.
Vanessa: Don't leave me hanging, Brand…
Brandston groaned, tossing his phone to the side. He wasn't in the mood. Her recent behavior had been getting under his skin. She was everywhere. He couldn't breathe without her shadowing him, and it was only making things with Audrey worse.
As he sat back, he glanced at his phone again, hesitating. A recent contact caught his eye.
Audrey.
He had managed to get her number through Joel, who apparently got it from "a friend of a friend." Against his better judgment, he texted her.
Brandston: Hey.
Minutes passed. No reply.
Then, just when he gave up and dropped the phone again, it buzzed.
Audrey: Who is this?
He froze. A reply. But before he could think of what to say next, another message came in—Vanessa again.
Vanessa: I'm waiting…
Brandston stood, frustrated. He needed to put an end to this.
He threw on a jacket and made his way to the meeting spot—the old greenhouse behind the science building. Once a vibrant botanical project, it had long been abandoned. The glass panes were now fogged and cracked, vines creeping along its edges. Inside, faint glow from the moonlight streamed through broken panels, casting silver-blue highlights on the floor.
He stepped inside—and stopped.
There she was.
Vanessa.
She wasn't in her school uniform. No, tonight she wore a dangerously short red dress that clung to her curves like it had been painted on. The low neckline revealed more than it hid, and her legs shimmered under the slits of the dress, catching the moonlight just right. Her long black hair was curled and loose, and she had a thin choker around her neck that gave her a rebellious, sultry look.
Brandston's eyes widened for a moment, then quickly darted away.
"Vanessa, what is this?" he asked, voice cold. "Why did you bring me here?"
She stepped closer, slowly, her heels tapping lightly on the dusty ground.
"I told you," she said, voice smooth like silk. "I needed to see you."
"Well, you've seen me. Now listen," he said, forcing himself to keep eye contact. "You need to stop. I've asked you before. Whatever you're trying to do—just stop. I'm not interested."
She smiled, a sultry, knowing smile, and took another step toward him.
"Honey," she whispered, fingers gently brushing his chest, "I didn't call you here for your long talk."
Her perfume was intoxicating. A sweet mix of cherry and vanilla that clouded his focus.
"Vanessa—" he warned, taking a step back.
But she closed the gap again, sliding her hands around his neck.
"Shh…" she said, pressing a finger to his lips. "You think too much."
Brandston's heart was pounding. Every instinct told him to move, to back away. But his legs didn't listen. Her body was close—too close. Her lips were inches from his. Her gaze locked onto his.
"I don't bite," she whispered, leaning in, her breath warm against his face.
His hands clenched. "This… this isn't right."
Her lips curled. "Then don't stop me."
And just as her lips nearly touched his—
The scene fades...