The morning sun poured into Room 1-A like it was trying to get extra credit. Windows wide open, birds chirping like they were on espresso, and desks gleaming like some overachieving cleaning fairy had worked overtime.
It was only day two of high school, and Lira already wanted to crawl under her desk and apply for a new identity.
She crept into the room with the stealth of an introvert avoiding eye contact — hoodie half-swallowed her frame, messy bun in place, sketchpad clutched like a security blanket. The Lira Survival Starter Pack.
And then he walked in.
The air literally shifted. It went from meh to "oh no he's hot" in 0.5 seconds.
Damian.
Transfer student. Human glitch in the simulation. Eyes like moonlight caught in a snow globe. A jawline so sharp it probably had legal custody of her sanity.
And that smirk. That smirk deserved its own warning label.
"Caution: May cause temporary loss of brain function."
He slid into the seat beside her like he owned the desk. And the room. And possibly time itself.
"Hey, art girl," he said, voice like soft mischief wrapped in black coffee.
"I— I have a name," she said, voice doing gymnastics she didn't approve of.
He grinned. "I know. I just like calling you art girl. It fits."
Cue internal screaming at a frequency only dogs and best friends could hear.
Lira attempted to focus on the lesson, but her brain was deep in its usual soap opera:
"Lira, focus. We're doing math." "I am! I'm calculating the angles of his jaw!" "No. Stop it. We don't know him." "But what if he reads poetry and has emotional damage???"
Somewhere in the middle of her spiral, Damian leaned closer.
"You zoned out again," he whispered, amusement laced in every syllable.
"I'm just… sketching," she muttered.
He peeked over.
"…Is that me?"
Her eyes widened in horror. The sketch was unmistakable — his profile, clean lines, a hint of moonlight in the shading. Busted.
Lira slammed the sketchbook shut like it was a haunted grimoire.
"It's— It's a vampire. From Pinterest."
Damian laughed. Low. Warm. Unfairly pretty
"Damn," he said, "even your lies are soft."