(Liam's POV)
Liam wasn't sure when it started.
Maybe it was months ago, the first time he saw her. Elena, walking outside the gates of St. Claire's, that fancy private school across the street from the cracked street lamp. She had her hair tied with a blue ribbon that day. Her uniform was crisp and ironed just right, her steps light and sure like a woman who was used to people staring.
She was so beautiful he couldn't tear his eyes away.
So every breaktime, Liam found himself walking to the fence between the two schools. He'd lean against it and pretend he had better things to do, and watch her like the rest of the world was a blur. It was pathetic, really. He knew he wasn't the only one watching her, everyone was. She had that kind of beauty. The kind you'd see in a magazine and convince yourself didn't exist in real life.
But she was real. Untouchable, but real.
And now... here she was. At Westbridge.
She sat in the same classrooms. Walked the same halls. Ate lunch a few feet from him, like it was normal. Like she belonged. It freaked him out.
What was she doing here? What did she want from him? He didn't believe for a second she just wanted to "be friends."
Maybe it was the second time she showed up at the back gate, grinning like she belonged there all along. Or maybe it was the way she never flinched when people whispered about her, about him. She didn't act scared. She didn't pretend not to notice. She just looked at him like he mattered.
It made Liam uncomfortable. And curious.
He told himself not to care. Told himself she'd get bored eventually and go back to her preppy life.
But she didn't.
She started showing up more. Not in an annoying way. Just... present.
In class, she always took the closest seat to him that was still available.
During lunch, she sat on the steps by the gym and drew quietly in a notebook. She never looked at him directly, but somehow she was always just at the edge of his sight.
And that day in math class, he found himself watching her.
Her head tilted slightly as she stared at the board, her pen tapping against her lip in time to the second hand on the clock. She looked… different. Not just beautiful. She looked older. Wiser. Like someone who'd lived a hundred lives and carried the silence of all of them in her bones.
She didn't seem afraid of anything.
Not even him.
And Liam knew exactly what people were saying about him. The temper, the fights, the rumors about why he got held back twice. He let them talk. Let them be afraid. It made life easier.
But Elena didn't flinch when he met her eyes.
In fact, she caught his gaze.
And smiled.
A soft, knowing smile.
He looked away fast, like he was scribbling something in his notebook, his heart pounding like he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't have.
Later that day, when he passed by the gym steps and saw her sitting there, drawing, he slowed.
Just for a second.
She didn't look up.
But he did.
And for the first time, Liam wondered—
What would happen if I sat beside her?
(Elena's POV)
By Wednesday, Elena had become Westbridge's newest scandal.
Gossip spread like wildfire.
"She's stalking Liam."
"She's trying to buy friends."
"Is this some weird social experiment?"
Everywhere she went, eyes followed. Girls whispered in the halls. Boys watched her like she was both a challenge and a mystery. Even the teachers cast suspicious looks when they saw her name on the attendance list.
Elena didn't care.
She was here for one reason.
That morning, she packed an extra sandwich and left it on Liam's desk. He didn't touch it.
She tried to sit beside him in history. He moved seats.
She passed him a note during math. He crumpled it without opening.
Still, she smiled.
Let them talk. Let him push her away. She wasn't giving up.
But not everyone was willing to let her get away with it.
"Hey, princess," a sharp voice called as she stepped out of class.
A girl stood in her path, short bleached hair, too much gloss, and a glare that could cut glass.
"You think just because you're rich, you can come here and take what you want?"
Elena blinked. "I don't even know you."
"I'm Maeve," the girl snapped. "And Liam doesn't need your charity. So back off."
A small crowd had gathered, buzzing with tension.
Elena stood her ground. "I'm not here to fight."
Maeve took a step closer. "Then leave. Or next time, I won't just be talking."
Before Elena could reply, the bell rang. Students scattered, and Maeve gave one last pointed look before turning away.
Someone behind Elena muttered, "She's gonna get herself hurt."
Elena inhaled slowly.
Liam had enemies.
Now, so did she.
Later that day, as she was making her way to the back gate, someone caught up to her.
"You really don't know how to quit, do you?" Liam asked, walking beside her.
She grinned. "Nope."
He squinted at her, appraising her. "Why me?"
She stopped walking.
"Because you're worth the effort."
Liam looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or argue.
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough," she said softly. "I know you protect the people you love. I know you act cold, but you're not. Not really."
He looked at her like she was a puzzle missing every corner piece.
"You're weird," he muttered.
"I've been called worse."
He shook his head and walked off.
But this time, he didn't walk as fast.
That night, Elena sat alone in her room, pencil in hand.
She was drawing the old version of Liam, the one she had known in another lifetime. The lines were off. The angles messy.
Her hands were shaking.
She was scared.
Scared she wouldn't reach him in time.
Scared she'd already messed it up.
Scared of failing all over again.
But still—
She kept drawing.
Because she would try again. And again. And again.
Even if the whole world stood in her way.