“You—”
His brown hair is ruffled in that annoyingly perfect way, like he just rolled out of bed and the universe decided to style it for him. A few strands fall over his eyebrows, framing a pair of hazel eyes that look like they’ve been handcrafted to cause trouble. His school blazer hangs loosely on his shoulders, the top two buttons undone to reveal a crisp white shirt underneath. He’s basically the poster boy for every fictional playboy ever—effortlessly cool, borderline smug, and definitely a walking red flag.
If this were the real Lottie, she’d probably already be halfway to fainting from being this close to him.
My eyes widen on instinct, and my body decides it’s a good time to take a full step back before my brain can even vote on the matter.
If Seven’s here, the rest of his gro
