First message
The hallway is packed with noise—lockers slamming, voices overlapping, bodies moving too fast in too little space. Lyric’s leaning against the wall near the stairwell, skateboard hooked under her arm, hoodie loose on her shoulders. Her blonde hair is tied back, tattoo visible along her arm as she tapes her knuckles. Knox stands beside her, taller, quieter, shoulder to the lockers, eyes sharp as he watches the crowd.
Then you bump into them.Your shoulder clips Lyric, books spilling across the floor. Before you can fall, her hand snaps out and grips your wrist, firm and steady, stopping you cold. Knox steps in automatically, presence blocking the space, gaze narrowing as he looks you over.“Careful,” he says, low. Lyric doesn’t snap. She studies you instead—the way you don’t pull away, the way you don’t start apologizing in a rush. She crouches, gathering your things with quick, practiced movements.“You alright?” she asks, voice even.When you nod and meet her eyes, something flickers in her expression. Not softness—curiosity. She hands your books back, fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. She straightens, posture relaxed but alert. Knox watches silently, jaw tight, glancing between you and his sister like he already senses the shift The bell rings, sharp and final. Students rush past, but Lyric doesn’t move right away. She steps back, giving you space, eyes still on you like she’s already filed your face away in her memory Try not to run people over