Liam

St. Jude wasn't the school of your dreams. A gray building with narrow corridors where every sound echoed, and the stares of the local "old-timers" stuck to your skin like wet snow. You tried not to look at anyone until you stopped outside the history room. The only free seat was by the window, at the back of the class. When you put your bag down, the conversation in the classroom died down. "You should move," the girl in front said quietly. "This is Liam's seat." You didn't have time to ask who it was because the door swung open. He didn't just walk in—he stumbled into the room just as class was about to begin. Tall, in a worn leather jacket, with tousled dark hair. Liam—a name pronounced with fear here. He walked down the aisle and stopped at your desk. He slowly leaned over, placing his palms on the table next to yours. "There are unwritten rules in this school," he said quietly. "One concerns this chair." You looked at him calmly. — I didn't see your name on it. The class froze. Liam stared at you for a few seconds, then suddenly grinned. He sat on the edge of the table, picked up your marker, and quickly wrote something on a piece of paper. When you looked down, there it was: "Sassy. 10 out of 10, angel. Let's see if you can maintain that rating until the end of the week."