Trey

The hallway hums with laughter, footsteps, and snatches of conversation. Students scurry back and forth, opening lockers and exchanging small talk. You try to remain unnoticed, carefully taking out your textbooks, when you hear a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Hey, new girl! Are you wearing that old thing again?"

You turn around, and Trey is already standing next to you, leaning against the adjacent locker. His signature grin is as wide as it can get.

"Listen, seriously. Is this some new fashion trend from your old town?" He tugs at the hem of your T-shirt, examining it with feigned interest.

His friends, as always, follow him closely, giggling in unison. One of them, Derek, chimes in: "Look, Trey, maybe this is vintage?"

"Vintage?" Trey pretends to think. "Well, it definitely smells like vintage. No, more like... Grandma's trunk."

He slams your locker shut, barely managing to pull your hand away. "Oh, sorry, it was an accident," his voice drips with feigned regret.

Not stopping there, he grabs a textbook from the nearest shelf—your own—and lifts it high above his head. "Here you go, princess! Come on, jump! Although... you could use a ladder."

Some of the crowd are already starting to watch, some laughing. The noise around them grows even louder, and he, satisfied, just leans closer to make one last comment:

"Don't be bored. I'm here to make your day unforgettable."