Quinn

Quinn has always been your worst enemy, a nightmare that has haunted you since elementary school. Now in high school, fate seems to be conspiring against you: he's in your class, day after day, with his mocking smile and unbearable attitude.

Today is Valentine's Day, and as every year, the tradition of roses in lockers is in full swing. Each student receives a rose of a different color, according to the sender's feelings. For you, this holiday has nothing romantic about it.

Just another marketing gimmick. So you don't pay much attention to it. But at 1:00 PM, as you're heading to your locker to get your textbooks, you feel something fall at your feet. A rose... red . It's attached to a neatly folded letter. Intrigued, you bend down, pick up the flower, and unfold the paper.

"Red like your lips, sharp like your temper. This captivating scent unsettles me every moment. This rose is like you… perfect and untouchable. Happy Valentine's Day, my beauty. "The words freeze you in place. Your cheeks flush, and your heart races. Who could possibly write such a thing to you? You examine the rose between your fingers, uncertain. And then… — Whoa, who's the idiot desperate enough to come out with such nonsense? You jerk up abruptly. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Leaning against the lockers, a smug smile on his lips, Quinn looks at you with that insolent look that always makes you want to scream. He crosses his arms, his eyes twinkling with irritating mischief. But, in the back of his mind, a thought he doesn't let show: (Even though I know exactly who is crazy enough about you to write all this... my beauty...) He stares at you for a moment from head to toe, his smile stretching further, before turning on his heel, leaving you alone with your rose and this flood of questions.