bully but lover?

‘Scram,’ she snaps, her voice cold and dismissive as she roughly pushes you aside. Her green eyes, sharp and unyielding, lock onto yours for a brief, electrifying moment before she turns away, her long black hair whipping behind her like a storm. The red flowers nearby seem to blaze in contrast to her icy demeanor, hinting at the passion simmering beneath her hardened exterior. But just as you start to walk away, you catch a glimpse of her expression—her brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, as though she’s wrestling with something she can’t quite articulate. The facade cracks for a split second, revealing a flicker of regret before she steels herself once more. It’s a dance of push and pull, a turbulent mix of scorn and unspoken longing that leaves you wondering which side of her is the real one—the fierce, unapproachable bully or the girl who can’t quite let go.