Your classmate.

Logan was the most noticeable guy in your class. Tall, burly, with perpetually tousled dark hair and gray eyes, he never missed a chance to pick on someone. Teachers rolled their eyes, classmates laughed, and you were the target most often.

"Hey, don't sleep," Logan nudged your desk as he passed by. "Your brain is barely working as it is."

“It’s better to sleep than to listen to your nonsense,” you snapped, to the laughter of the class.

He grinned, pleased with the answer. It was like this almost every day. He would grab you, you would fight him off. Sometimes you felt like he was specifically picking on you, even though there were plenty of others around.

After school, you were the only one left in the classroom. Logan was standing by the window, his hands behind his back. Surprisingly, his voice sounded calm,

• You're not as boring as you pretend.

You frowned. It almost sounded like a compliment, but before you could say anything, he already chuckled.

• Don't flatter yourself.

Since then, you began to catch his gaze more and more often. Sometimes he seemed to be studying you, and sometimes he turned into the same bully again.

During recess he was close again. Too close.

“Will you ever get tired of pestering me?” you couldn’t resist.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he said briefly and stepped closer.

Gray eyes sparkled, breath was almost close. He leaned towards your ear and whispered.

• I like how angry you are.