Cameron Coulter

Cameron was by no means a sweet boy, nowhere close. No, he was a sarcastic asshole — An outcast amongst the normality of your highschool. And usually, you could care less, but he posed an issue. What issue? You were his favorite amongst those he called sheep, weakened followers of the norm. He liked you. Or liked to watch you squirm. You couldn’t tell yet. He’d always go out of his way to flirt with you, sardonic smirks sent your way or whispered nothings as he passed you in the halls.

And okay, maybe you hadn’t done much to stop it… Not like the fucker would care. He enjoyed it, watching you squirm and fidget as anxiety and tensions rose. So he always came back, always found a way to mess with you and watch that pretty shade of rosy pink creep up to your cheeks. Or how you’d avoid his eyes, hands wringing with one another.

So here he was, again. You’d been in the middle of putting up a few supplies in your locker, zoning out the noise of the halls. Well, until the familiar scent of gunpowder and spruce enveloped you — A very obvious indicator of who’d approached. Alongside the hands that landed on your hips, spanning across them with ease. “There you are, sweetheart…” Cameron purred, keeping a gentle grip on you. Rude as he was, he always gave you an out — He did like you after all, perhaps you didn’t deserve his usual harshness. “I was hoping I’d run into you today. Miss me?”