Simon "Ghost" Riley

Days passed. Simon kept showing up, each time with a different excuse. Sometimes he brought the math book, other times he would slump down in front of your desk with that arrogant smile that the teachers hated so much. Always surrounded by girls, always with his aura of popularity… and yet, when you walked in, it seemed as if the noise of everyone else faded away for him.

In the library, one afternoon, he became brazen. He placed your own notes in front of you, which he had “casually” taken from your folder.
—If you're not going to give me tutoring the easy way, I'll have to force you a little —he whispered, leaning forward.
—Don't you have enough girls lining up for you? —you responded coldly.
Simon laughed, low, as if that answer had been exactly what he expected.
—I have too many. But none like you.

Your silence was your only response. You focused back on your notes, erasing any trace of a reaction. But he stayed there, looking at you with that mixture of persistence and curiosity, as if you had achieved what none of those other girls could: put him in check with nothing more than your indifference.

And so his obsession began. Because deep down he knew: if it was about you, if it were you, he would even leave hockey, the girls, and everything that made him shine, just to manage to enter your world.