Guns and Roses

Dangerous

Genevieve

I don’t know what I expected from my second lunch in a new school, but it sure as hell wasn’t him.

Leo Saint Laurent.

Yeah, I’d heard the name. Even back in my old town, kids whispered about boys like him. The kind of boys who didn’t have to raise their voice to make people flinch. The kind of boys who made school halls feel like war zones—quiet, tense, one wrong step and boom.

And yet he sat in front of me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And I didn’t move.

Maybe I should’ve. Maybe I should’ve stood up, walked away, pretended my stomach hurt or I forgot my book in the library or that I needed to throw up which, honestly, wasn’t that far off. Not from fear exactly… but something close. Something heavier.

But I stayed.

He smelled like cigarettes and sandalwood. His eyes were too sharp for an 18-year-old. They looked like they’d seen things. Things that left claw marks on your insides. Still, there was something else in them too. Like he was… waiting. Watching.

And I couldn’t look away.

When that other boy tried to sit with me. Derek or Daniel or whatever. Kai didn’t even speak. Just looked. One look, and the guy turned tail like a kicked puppy.

It should’ve been funny. But it wasn’t.

It was power. Pure, silent, terrifying power.

And then Kai sat down across from me like we’d planned it. Like this was normal. Like we were friends. His voice was low, a little raspy, and something in the way he said my name made my fingers twitch.

Genevieve.

He said it like it tasted expensive in his mouth.

And when he told me he didn’t bite? Yeah. I didn’t believe him for a second. Because something about him screamed hunger. Like he could tear you apart in silence and then sit calmly through the cleanup.

But I didn’t look away.

I should’ve. Every girl in the cafeteria probably wanted to be in my seat, and every girl probably knew better than to actually be there. And yet here I was, clutching my fork like a weapon and pretending my heart wasn’t hammering in my throat.

When he said he’d see me tomorrow and just… left? My shoulders dropped like I’d been holding my breath the whole time. I hadn’t even touched my food. I wasn’t hungry anymore.

He was too much.

And yet… I wanted to know what made him that way.

That scared me.

Because I didn’t come here looking for trouble.

But I think trouble just sat across from me and asked for my name.

—————————————————————————-

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

It just kind of happened.

Fifth period was gym, which meant sitting on the bleachers while Coach Carver yelled about “physical potential” and “team bonding,” which really meant: Run laps and try not to pass out. I wasn’t in the mood. My shoes were still too new and my body too full of thoughts I hadn’t sorted out since lunch.

Saint Laurent.

That name kept circling my head like a vulture. I thought about the irony and contrast of the owner of the name and the name. He was anything but a saint. Martyr maybe but definitely a saint. His eyes had that kind of aura that said move or be stricken but also said, I don’t snitch and my loyalty doesn’t need questioning.

I told myself it was nothing. A random moment. A fluke. He saw me sitting alone, got curious, and left. That was it.

Right?

But then I heard them.

Two girls. The kind with glossy ponytails and mascara thicker than their personalities. They sat one row behind me, legs crossed, mouths running. I hadn’t caught their names, but I didn’t need to. Girls like that were always the same. Curious about chaos from a safe distance.

“Did you see Leo sitting with the new girl at lunch?” the first one whispered, like it was illegal to say it out loud.

“Oh my god, yes,” the second said. “Poor thing has no idea who he is.”

“She will,” the first laughed. “Eventually.”

My stomach tightened.

“I heard he made a senior drop out last year. Like, literally drop out. The guy was all talk until Leo followed him into the woods behind the school and came back with blood on his boots.”

“Ugh, stop. That’s probably not even true.”

“I mean, he doesn’t deny it.”

“That’s because he doesn’t talk. He just… stares. And people shut up.”

Another pause.

“My cousin said he used to be normal—like, really sweet, back in middle school. Then something happened with his mom or something, and he just… switched.”

The other girl hummed. “They say he’s dealing.”

“They say a lot of things. All I know is, anyone who crosses him either disappears or comes back with a limp and a fear of eye contact.”

They giggled, like they were talking about a movie villain.

But my heart was pounding.

Because none of what they said sounded made up.

It sounded real.

And yet… the way he looked at me at lunch—it didn’t match. There was something there. Like he was trying to keep something caged behind his ribs and it was breaking through, little by little, just from being near me.

And that scared me more than the rumors.

Because there was a part of me…small, stupid, reckless, that liked the way he looked at me.

Like I was the only thing in this godawful school that didn’t make him feel like breaking something.

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want them to see the flush in my cheeks or the tight grip I had on my water bottle.

Leo Saint Laurent was dangerous.

Everyone knew it.

So why did it feel like he was the safest/alluring person I’d touched in weeks?