The bell for fifth period hadn't rung yet, but the hallway already hummed with chaos. Kai Rosales leaned against his locker, arms crossed over a faded Metallica t-shirt, dark hair falling over one eye as he watched a freshman fumble with his combination lock. His friends snickered beside him—Javi and Rico, always ready to follow his lead.
"Hey, Four-Eyes!" Kai called out, his voice cutting through the noise.
Every head turned toward Lara Reyes, who'd just rounded the corner with a stack of textbooks tucked under one arm and a sketchbook peeking out of her backpack. Her black-rimmed glasses slid down her nose, and she pushed them up with her index finger, her dark brown eyes darting to the floor. She was pretty—soft cheekbones, full lips, and hair that fell in loose waves over her shoulders—but she'd never let anyone see it, hiding behind oversized sweaters and her schoolwork.
"Look what she's carrying," Javi laughed, nodding at her books. "You planning to move into the library?"
Kai pushed off the locker and stepped in front of her, making her stop short. The stack of books in her arms wobbled.
"Watch it," she muttered, trying to side-step him.
He blocked her path again. "What's in the sketchbook, Reyes? Doodles of all the boys you'll never date?"
Lara's face flushed pink. She clutched her books tighter. "None of your business, Rosales."
"Aw, she's got a mouth on her," Rico grinned.
Kai reached out and plucked the sketchbook from her backpack before she could stop him. He flipped it open—and his smirk faded. The pages were filled with detailed drawings of the school's courtyard, the old oak tree by the track, even a portrait of Javi laughing with his little sister at the bus stop. They were good—really good.
"Did you draw these?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
Lara lunged for it. "Give it back!"
He held it over his head, his eyes still on the pages. "You're actually talented. Why'd you never show anyone?"
"Because people like you would just make fun of me!" She jumped again, but he was too tall. "Please, Kai—I need that back. I'm supposed to submit some pieces to the regional art contest next week."
For a long moment, he stared at her—at the way her eyes glistened with frustration, at the smudge of charcoal on her thumb. Then he closed the sketchbook and handed it back.
"Next week," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'll come watch you present."
Lara blinked, stunned. "Why would you—"
"Just… don't tell anyone I said that." He turned back to his friends, who were staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "Let's go, idiots. We're gonna be late for chem."
As he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder—and caught Lara watching him, her sketchbook pressed to her chest.