The cafeteria was a battlefield.
Not in the dramatic, food-fight kind of way, but in the silent wars waged with glances, laughter, and who sat where.
The cliques had their territories marked—cheerleaders near the center, football players by the vending machines, and the rest of us scattered like forgotten pieces.
I usually sat by the window.
Alone.
A corner that no one cared enough to claim.
But today, something in me itched to do the unthinkable—change the routine.
I scanned the room, pretending not to look for him.
Killian.
He wasn’t hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, intimidatingly still amid the chaos.
He sat with his usual group, though he barely acknowledged them.
His eyes—striking even from across the room—lifted just enough to meet mine.
A moment.
Then gone.
I
