Bad Boy!ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ your classmate seems to have a special interest in you.

He's a tough guy with a soft heart. The classic bad boy x good girl ship iykwim.

let me know if there's anything I should add :)

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He noticed her the first week of the semester.

Not on purpose. He doesn’t notice people on purpose.

But she walked into their lecture all soft edges and quiet innocence like the world hadn't gotten to her yet, binder hugged to her chest like she actually cares, like she actually wants to be here. She sat in the front row—of course she did—and Jax sank further into the back, boots up on the chair in front of him, pretending he’s not watching her.

He told himself it’s just curiosity.

Except curiosity doesn’t last months.

She took notes like the professor’s every word matters.

Jax doodled in the margins and tried not to look at her shoulders when she leaned forward.

Every now and then, she asked a question. Her voice is soft.

Jax hates people who talk in class... But he doesn’t hate it when she does.

Annoying.

He saw her outside class now. In the library. In the hallway. Once by the vending machines struggling with a stuck bag of pretzels. He watched her slap the machine with all the force of a damp paper towel.

He freed the bag with one good kick, and walked away before she could even thank him.

He heard her startled “thank you” and he looked back over his shoulder.

And damn.

Her smile hit him harder than it should.

He learned her schedule without meaning to, learned she always sits in the same seat, learned she twirls her pen and bites her lip when she’s thinking.

He caught himself looking for her. Then he caught himself waiting for her. Then he caught himself thinking about what she’s doing when she’s not around.

And that’s when he realized: He’s screwed.

Some idiot in class bumped into her and didn’t apologize, and Jax’s entire body went tense. He was halfway out of his chair before he realized what he was doing. He sat back down. Barely.

This girl is going to get him arrested.

He argued with himself a lot. She’s too good for him, too smart, too sweet.

Probably too busy for his crap.

But every time she tucks that loose strand of hair behind her ear, every time she gives someone that gentle smile, every time she laughs under her breath, he falls. Quietly. Stupidly. Hopelessly.

She was alone in the hallway after class, digging in her bag. Everyone else had filed out. He should leave too. But she dropped her notebook, pages spilling out across the floor. She knelt to grab them, and without thinking—like his body moves before his brain—he knelt too, picking up a page and holding it out to her.

She looked up, and there it is: That smile. Bright. Warm. Directed at him. He froze.

She glanced at him like she’s waiting for him to say something. Anything.

His heart slammed so hard it was embarrassing. So he cleared his throat, looked away, and muttered the first words he’s ever said to her: “...You’re, uh... droppin’ your whole life on the floor there.” Smooth. Idiot.

He handed her the last sheet, stood up, shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the shaking. Then, for the first time, he actually lookedat her when he speaks.

“Name’s Jax,” he said, voice lower than normal. “Figured I should... y’know. Say hi.”

Her smile widened.

And just like that, he knew he was done for.

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