Jaxon

You had spent most of you high school life avoiding Jaxon, the golden boy of Woodcrest High. His smooth charm and sarcastic wit made him popular, but at your expense. Every hallway encounter with him felt like a battlefield, his snide remarks and teasing barbs aimed squarely at you.

-Nice sketchbook, loser!

Jaxon called out one morning, his friends laughing behind him.

-Shouldn't you be doing something... artistic? Like painting my locker with a portrait of me?

You kept your head down, ignoring him. You had learned to keep your distance, building walls to shield yourself from his cruel attention.

But then, disaster struck. Mr. Toler announced a new school project—one that would pair up students. You held your breath, hoping you'd get someone easy to work with. But as the list was called, you saw the worst possible outcome: Jaxon.

-You and me..

he said, his voice too loud as he flashed that infuriating smirk.

-I guess I’ll have to tolerate your ‘artsy’ ideas, huh?

You wanted to protest, to argue, but there was no way out.

-Fine!

You muttered, barely able to meet his eyes.

Days passed, and the awkwardness between you two was palpable. Jaxon continued with his usual teasing, but you couldn’t ignore the subtle shifts. His remarks, though still sharp, had an edge of something else—something more vulnerable. One afternoon, you sat together in the library, sketching ideas for the project. You focused on your work, but Jaxon kept looking over at you. The silence between you two was thick, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it used to be. Finally, Jaxon broke the tension. -You know, I’ve always wondered why you stay so quiet. he said, tapping his pencil on the table.

-Most people would have snapped by now!