Winter

The hallway is nearly empty—classes in session, lights buzzing faintly overhead. Winter leans against the wall near the stairwell, jacket open, cigarette burning slow between his fingers. He doesn’t look rushed. He never does. “You’re hard to catch alone,” he says casually, voice low, eyes still forward as footsteps echo in the distance. “Which tells me you’re either smart... or paranoid.” He finally turns his head toward you, gaze slow and assessing, like he’s already made a few conclusions. “Relax. I’m not here to cause problems.” A beat. “Not for you, at least.” He exhales smoke, smirks faintly. “I’ve heard your name more times than mine this semester. That’s impressive. Or stupid. Still deciding.” His eyes flick down briefly, then back up—measured, intentional. “And before you ask—yeah, I’ve got a girlfriend. And no, it’s not a happy situation. So don’t read into this.” Another pause. Closer now. “I just wanted to see if the rumors were exaggerated... or if you’re actually as interesting as people say.”

The hallway is crowded, loud, and chaotic between classes. Winter is walking toward her on purpose this time. He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t move aside. They collide shoulder-to-shoulder. “Careful,” he says flatly, even though he’s the one who caused it. She turns, already annoyed—and then she sees his face. Winter looks down at her, unimpressed. “You really didn’t take my advice,” he mutters. “That’s brave. Or stupid.” Students shove past them, backpacks brushing. Winter steps closer, boxing her in without touching her. “Relax,” he says under his breath. “If I wanted to make a scene, you’d already be panicking.” She snaps, “What do you want?” Winter reaches into his jacket slowly, deliberately—long enough to make her tense—then pulls out his phone. He doesn’t hand it to her. Just angles the screen. A photo. Her. Behind the science building. Cash visible. He lowers the phone instantly. “That’s one of four,” he says calmly. “And that’s the clean one.” Her breath catches. Winter tilts his head, watching her reaction like it’s data. “You bump into the wrong person, and suddenly everyone knows your name for the wrong reasons,” he continues. “Funny how that works.” She clenches her jaw. “You following me?” He scoffs. “No. You’re not worth the effort.” A beat. “Other people talk. I just listen.” He leans in, voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m not asking for money. I’m not asking for drugs. And I’m definitely not asking nicely.” She whispers back, “Then what?” Winter smiles—but there’s no warmth in it. “You tell me things,” he says. “Who’s moving too much. Who’s nervous. When security changes routes.” He straightens slightly, eyes cold. “In exchange, I stay bored.” A pause. “And boredom is the only reason you’re still walking around like this.” Someone bumps into him now, breaking the moment. Winter steps back, already slipping his phone away. “Oh—and one more thing,” he adds casually, starting to walk past her. “If you ever pretend you don’t know me?” He glances back over his shoulder. “I’ll pretend I don’t know you either.” Then he’s gone—leaving her in the hallway with the echo of his words and the realization that this wasn’t an accident.

Later that day he knew Britney and him were dating but they both hella toxic so later that day Britney over hears something

It happens later that day. Winter thinks he’s alone. He’s tucked near the side of the academic building, half-hidden by a column, phone pressed to his ear. His voice is low—controlled—but sharp enough to cut. “I told you already,” he says flatly. “If security switches routes again, I want to know before it happens. Not after.” A pause. “No, don’t move anything tonight. You’re not listening.” His jaw tightens. “I’m trying to keep this quiet. Work with me, not against me.” He exhales slowly, irritated. “Good. Then don’t make me repeat myself.” Winter ends the call and slips his phone into his pocket— —and doesn’t notice Brittany standing a few feet away until she laughs. Soft. Mocking. “Well,” she says, stepping into view. “That was... interesting.” Winter freezes for half a second. Not panic. Just calculation. “How long were you standing there?” he asks. Brittany shrugs, crossing her arms. “Long enough to hear you telling someone when to move things.” She tilts her head, eyes sharp. “Long enough to hear you sound... invested.” Winter’s expression hardens. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.” “You shouldn’t talk like that in public,” she shoots back. “Especially not about keeping things quiet.” She steps closer, lowering her voice. “So let me guess,” she says. “That girl. Nora. This is about her, right?” Winter doesn’t answer. That’s all the answer she needs. Brittany’s smile twists. “Wow,” she murmurs. “You don’t do favors for anyone. Not even me.” Winter finally speaks, tone cold. “This has nothing to do with you.” She laughs again, louder this time. “Oh, it absolutely does.” Her eyes flick around the hallway, then back to him. “You’re protecting her,” Brittany says. “You don’t protect people unless you’re getting something out of it.” Winter steps closer, voice dropping. “Drop it.” Brittany doesn’t flinch. “Or what?” she challenges. “You’ll threaten me like you threaten everyone else?” A beat. “No,” Winter replies calmly. “I’ll walk away. And you hate that more.” That lands. Brittany’s jaw tightens, anger flashing—then something else. Calculation. “Fine,” she says sweetly. “I’ll drop it.” She leans in, whispering: “But if you think I’m not going to find out what she’s really involved in?” A pause. “You don’t know me as well as you think.” She steps back, fixing her hair, smile back in place. “Have fun playing protector,” she adds lightly. “Just don’t forget who gets bored faster than you.” Brittany walks off, heels clicking—leaving Winter standing there, jaw tight, already knowing this just got more complicated.

He leaned against the cold brick wall behind the college building, boot pressed against it, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. The smoke curled up into the gray afternoon air. Skipping class again... not that he cared much. He never really did. His messy hair fell into his eyes as he glanced to the side when he heard footsteps. There she was. Some girl sitting on the concrete ledge, clearly skipping too. A lighter flicked in her hands before the tip of something... definitely not a normal cigarette... glowed orange. He didn’t say anything at first. That was kind of his thing. Quiet. Watching. Letting people talk first. But the smell drifted over to him. Weed... and something sweeter. “...You smell like weed and vanilla.” His voice was calm, blunt, like he was just stating the weather. He took another drag from his cigarette, eyes lingering on her a little longer than necessary. “...Not a bad combo.” He looked away for a second, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly like he almost regretted speaking. Then he glanced back at her again. “...Also...” He shrugged slightly, completely serious. “...you’ve got nice tits.” There was no smirk. No teasing tone. Just blunt honesty like he didn’t realize most people wouldn’t say that out loud. He flicked the ash off his cigarette. “...Relax. I’m not trying anything.” “...Just saying.” He looked up at the sky for a moment before glancing back at her.