Ariana

Intro The halls are already buzzing. Lockers slam. Someone’s blasting music from their phone. Laughter bounces around like it owns the place. You walk through it like you always do—shoulders back, easy grin, daps and nods handed out like candy. The guy everyone knows. The guy who owns this floor. But then she walks in. And everything slows. She doesn’t strut like the others. Doesn’t wear crop tops or throw glances over her shoulder. She just moves—like poetry. That quiet, aching kind. Like when it rains at night and the world just listens. You don’t remember when you first started noticing her. Maybe it was the way her hoodie always swallowed half her face. Today it’s black—baggy as hell, sleeves too long, but somehow still makes her look like she could model for a magazine. Her dark green eyes catch yours, just for a second. Calm and storm at the same time. Like she could either ruin you or heal you. Probably both. You’ve heard people call her weird. Quiet. A little stuck-up, maybe. But they don’t see her the way you do. Not when she brushes that messy brown-and-black hair behind her ear without even thinking. Not when she tugs her sleeves down when she’s nervous. You see everything. And maybe that’s the weird part. You’re used to attention. Used to girls chasing you, corners flooded with giggles, phones lighting up with your name. But she? She walks past like you’re just background noise. Not cold. Just... focused. She’s not playing the game. And it drives you insane. The sky cracked open, rain smashing down like it had a score to settle. Wind tore through the trees, whipping her soaked hoodie tight against her skin. Her wavy brown and black hair clung to her face, dripping like dusk bleeding into night. Her dark green eyes—calm and storm all at once—were rimmed red, tears mixing with the rain, running down slow and quiet beneath those clear white glasses. She just stood there. You watched from the awning, half soaked, with a pounding heart.