Xander

The sleek black car glided to a stop in front of Blackwood Academy, its tinted windows shielding me from the eager eyes of students loitering outside. The murmurs started before I even opened the door.

"Who’s that?"

"Damn, that’s a nice car. Is he rich?"

"Why’s he dressed like that?"

I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers into the soft material of my hoodie. The fabric was worn, comfortable, something that made me feel less... exposed. Showtime.

The door clicked open, and I stepped out. Cool autumn air wrapped around me, crisp and refreshing, but it did nothing to quiet the hum of curiosity that grew with every step I took.

Eyes followed me. Some subtle, some not. It was the car. It always was.

But then their attention shifted.

I kept my head down, adjusting my hoodie so it draped lower over my face. Thick-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of my nose, my expression carefully neutral. I wanted to blend in, to slip past the chatter and melt into the crowd, but I wasn’t exactly built for anonymity.

Six-foot-two. Broad shoulders. A presence that made people look. Even hunched over, I was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t ideal.

Blackwood Academy was exactly the kind of school I hated—exclusive, elite, and carved into social groups so rigid they might as well have been set in stone. The hierarchy was obvious from the moment I stepped into the courtyard.

At the top, the royalty—the kids whose last names carried weight outside of these walls, the ones who got away with everything because their parents made the rules.

Then the athletes. The golden boys and girls. The ones worshipped for their skill, their charm, their ability to walk into any room and own it without trying.

Next, the rich bullies—the ones who didn’t need to be good at anything because their money did the talking. They surrounded themselves with people who laughed at their jokes, supported their cruelty, and acted like they ruled the world.

And then there were the ones who didn’t fit in anywhere. The shadows. They sat back, watched, learned. Some had no choice. Others preferred it that way.

I should’ve been one of them.

But Jason Kingston wasn’t going to let that happen.

Jason had presence. He was the kind of guy who made people move out of his way without thinking, who walked with a swagger that told you he owned the space he was in. Tall, athletic, and smug in a way that said he’d never had to work for anything in his life.

He spotted me instantly.

I barely made it three steps before he stepped in front of me, a slow smirk spreading across his face. His entourage flanked him—two guys, nearly identical in their eager-to-please expressions, and a blonde girl clinging to his arm like a designer handbag.

Jason took his time looking me up and down, his smirk widening like he’d just found his new favorite toy.

“Well, well. The new kid.” His voice carried easily over the courtyard, drawing even more attention. “And here I was thinking Blackwood’s standards couldn’t get any lower.”

His lackeys snickered on cue, their laughter hollow and predictable. I didn’t react. Not yet.

I adjusted my glasses and took a step to the side, aiming to walk past him. But, of course, Jason moved with me, blocking my path again.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” He tilted his head, pretending to be intrigued. “What’s your name, nerd?”

The word nerd was meant to sting, to humiliate me in front of the growing crowd. But I’d been called worse. A lot worse.

I met his gaze briefly before answering. “Xander.”

Jason frowned. “Xander what?”

I could’ve given him my full name. I could’ve let him hear it roll off my tongue, watch his face twist as he tried to place it. But I didn’t.

“Just Xander,” I said.

Jason scoffed, glancing at his friends. “Just Xander,” he mimicked, his voice dripping with mockery. “You hear that? Sounds like someone thinks they’re too cool for last names.”

I said nothing. People like him fed on reactions, on weakness. The best way to deal with someone like Jason was to be boring, forgettable—because a bully with no audience was just another idiot with an ego problem.

I tried to step around him again. He moved with me.

“I don’t think you get how this works, Just Xander,” he drawled, his tone shifting from fake amusement to something sharper. “New kids don’t get to ignore me. You need to earn your place here. And lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today.”

I felt it before it happened.

Jason’s shoulder twitched. His stance shifted. The air between us crackled with the weight of an incoming move.

I knew what was coming before he even lifted his hand.

He reached out, fast, fingers aiming for the top of my hoodie like he was about to rip it off. A show of dominance, a way to humiliate me in front of everyone.

I should’ve let him.

I almost did.

But then he said it.

"Bet your mom must be real proud, huh? Oh wait—does she even know where you are? Or is she too busy—"

The world around me snapped into silence.

The laughter stopped. The murmurs faded.

For a split second, everything blurred at the edges, my vision narrowing to him.

Before I could even think, I moved.

Jason’s hand barely brushed my hoodie before I caught his wrist. My fingers wrapped around it in an unshakable grip, twisting just enough to make him stumble. His smirk vanished, replaced by confusion, then a flicker of something else—something close to fear.

I could break it.

One snap. One twist. It would be easy. Too easy.

The instinct was there, buried deep, screaming at me to end this before it escalated. Before Jason—or anyone else—got the wrong idea about me.

But I couldn’t.

I let go.

Jason stumbled back, his face flashing between pain and disbelief. He clutched his wrist, flexing his fingers like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

Neither could the crowd.

The shift in the atmosphere was instant. The students watching had expected a one-sided beatdown, a nerd getting humiliated by the school’s golden boy.

But that wasn’t what they’d gotten.

And then there was her.

Celeste.

She stood apart from the crowd, leaning casually against a pillar, her arms crossed. Her dark eyes were unreadable, but I knew she’d seen everything.

Unlike the others, she wasn’t whispering or gawking. She wasn’t confused.

She looked like she understood.

And that was a problem.

Jason finally found his voice, his shock quickly morphing into anger. “What the hell was that?” His voice was tight, forced, like he wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or pissed.

I didn’t answer. I adjusted my hoodie, nodded slightly, and turned away.

Jason didn’t chase after me. He didn’t throw another insult.

Because he knew.

Somewhere, deep down, he knew.

He’d picked the wrong guy.

Xander

Blackwood Academy was built to impress. Towering stone buildings, ivy crawling up the walls, hallways so polished they reflected the expensive shoes that walked them. It reeked of old money and power—of people who had never known what it was like to fight for a place in the world.

And now, I was one of them. Or at least, that’s what they thought.

I’d spent the morning in near silence, avoiding unnecessary attention. My classes were predictable—teachers who barely glanced at me, students who whispered behind their hands but never approached outright.

Until her.

Celeste.

She didn’t just glance. She stared.

By the time the final bell rang, I could already feel her presence before I saw her. She was leaning against the doorway of my last class, arms crossed, waiting.

I sighed, adjusting my bag over my shoulder. I could ignore her. Walk past without saying a word.

But something told me she wouldn’t let that happen.

So I stopped.

She didn’t waste time.

“You’re pretending, aren’t you?”

Her voice was low, steady, not meant for the casual bystander. She wasn’t accusing me in a way that demanded defense. She was stating a fact.

I lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

Celeste tilted her head slightly, like she was piecing together a puzzle that had just gotten interesting.

“You’re acting like you don’t belong,” she continued. “Like you’re some awkward, glasses-wearing, keep-my-head-down nobody.” Her eyes flicked to my hoodie, then back to my face. “But you move wrong.”

I let out a short laugh. “Didn’t know walking was a crime here.”

She didn’t smile.

“You dodged Jason too fast,” she said. “You caught his wrist like it was instinct. No hesitation. No flinch. Like you’ve done it a hundred times before.”

My smirk didn’t waver, but I could feel her pressing too close to the truth.

“Sounds like someone’s been watching me,” I said lazily.

Celeste didn’t even blink. “You’re interesting. And I don’t trust interesting things.”

That made me pause.

Not visibly. I didn’t stiffen, didn’t react in any way someone else might have noticed. But she caught it.

I studied her a little more closely now.

Celeste was different from the others. She wasn’t just curious—she was calculating.

Like she was trying to decide whether I was a threat.

“I don’t know what kind of conspiracy theory you’ve got going,” I said, voice light, “but I’m just a guy trying to get through the day without getting shoved into a locker.”

Celeste narrowed her eyes slightly, not buying it. “Blackwood Academy isn’t normal, Xander.”

I stilled.

Just for a second.

Again, she noticed.

Celeste stepped closer, lowering her voice. “This school has rules. Unspoken ones. You don’t want to stand out, not like that. People notice things here.”

I held her gaze. “And what exactly do you notice?”

She studied me for a long moment. Then she exhaled softly, like she’d just decided something.

“That you should be careful,” she said.

Then she turned and walked away.

I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders before following the flow of students into the hallway.

I didn’t look back.

But I felt her watching.

And I knew, without a doubt, that Celeste wasn’t done with me yet.

---

Jason

The sting of humiliation hadn’t faded.

Jason clenched his fist, flexing his fingers like he could still feel the phantom pressure of Xander’s grip on his wrist. It had been brief—too brief for anyone else to notice—but he had felt it.

That wasn’t normal.

No one should be able to do that to him. Not some random, hoodie-wearing freak.

Jason leaned against his locker, scowling as Mason and Trent stood in front of him, waiting for orders.

“So, what’s the plan?” Mason asked, chewing gum like he wasn’t the dumbest person in the room.

Jason exhaled sharply, schooling his features into something calmer. More controlled.

“I don’t care what kind of reflexes he has,” he said. “He embarrassed me. And no one does that in my school.”

Trent hesitated. “Dude, I don’t know. Something about him—”

Jason’s gaze snapped to him. “You scared?”

Trent shut up fast.

Jason smirked. “Didn’t think so.” He pushed off the locker, rolling his shoulders. “Find him. Catch him alone.”

Mason grinned, already eager for trouble. “And then what?”

Jason’s smirk widened.

“Then we show him exactly how things work around here.”

Xander

I knew this was coming.

It was just a matter of when.

Blackwood Academy was predictable like that. A new kid shows up, doesn’t fit into the neat little social hierarchy, and someone—usually an insecure rich boy with a fragile ego—decides to make an example of them.

Jason was that guy.

So when Mason and Trent flanked me after my last class, walking a little too close, a little too deliberately, I didn’t react. I kept my head down, hoodie up, glasses in place, playing the part they expected.

The dumb, unsuspecting nerd.

They waited until the halls thinned out before making their move.

“Hey, new kid,” Mason called, slinging an arm over my shoulder like we were old friends. “Let’s take a walk.”

I sighed, adjusting my bag. “Do I have a choice?”

Trent grinned. “Not really.”

I let them guide me toward the back of the school, behind the gym. It was the perfect spot—no cameras, no teachers, just the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant echo of a basketball bouncing inside the gym.

Jason was already there, leaning against the chain-link fence, arms crossed like he was bored.

“Xander,” he said smoothly. “You’re making quite the impression.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Didn’t think you’d be my biggest fan.”

His jaw tightened just a little before he smirked, pushing off the fence. “See, here’s the thing. I don’t like people who think they’re better than me.”

I sighed. “And you assume that’s me because…?”

Jason’s smirk turned sharp. “Because you are. You think you can just walk into my school, act all quiet and mysterious, and not play by the rules?”

I stuffed my hands into my hoodie pockets, tilting my head. “Didn’t know there was a rulebook.”

Trent chuckled. “Oh, there is. And lesson one?” He cracked his knuckles. “You don’t embarrass Jason Sinclair.”

I rolled my shoulders, exhaling through my nose.

I really didn’t want to start this early.

But they weren’t going to let me walk away.

Jason motioned to Mason and Trent. “Teach him some respect.”

Mason was the first to swing. A predictable right hook, telegraphed from a mile away.

I didn’t move until the last second.

Then I stepped aside, letting his fist cut through empty air.

Mason stumbled forward, caught off balance, and I took a slow step back, watching as he recovered.

Trent was next—quicker, a little sharper, but still too easy to read. He lunged, aiming for my ribs.

I sidestepped.

Again.

And again.

They came at me together after that, fists flying.

I didn’t block. I didn’t hit back.

I dodged.

Every punch. Every kick.

Effortless.

To them, it must’ve looked impossible—like I was predicting their moves before they even made them.

Because I was.

Fighting was like chess. Every stance, every shift in weight, told me what they were about to do.

And they were sloppy. Too emotional. Too eager to prove a point.

Mason grunted in frustration, swinging wild. I ducked, twisting away, hands still in my pockets.

Jason’s smirk faltered.

“You really don’t want to do this,” I said casually, stepping back.

Mason snarled. “Cocky little—”

He charged.

I moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

My hand shot out, catching his wrist mid-swing. I twisted, just enough to send a sharp jolt of pain up his arm. He yelped, dropping to his knees.

Trent hesitated, but it was too late.

I turned, shifting my weight, and swept his legs out from under him in one clean motion.

He hit the ground hard.

Silence.

Jason’s smirk was gone now.

Mason groaned, cradling his wrist. Trent wheezed, trying to sit up.

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders.

“This was pointless,” I muttered. “Let’s not do it again.”

Then I turned—

—and stopped.

Celeste was there.

Leaning against the fence, arms crossed, watching.

She wasn’t shocked.

She wasn’t running to get a teacher.

She was expecting this.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. “Told you,” she said. “You’re not just some nerd.”

I stared at her, pulse steady despite the fight.

She knew.

I couldn’t fool her.

Jason, on the other hand, was still piecing things together.

“You…” He took a step back. “What the hell are you?”

I adjusted my hoodie, shaking my head. “Just a guy who didn’t want to fight.”

Jason didn’t look convinced.

Celeste pushed off the fence, walking closer. “Don’t worry, Jason,” she said lightly. “You wanted to put Xander in his place, right? Well, congratulations. You just found out where he really stands.”

Jason’s hands clenched into fists. He looked at me like he wanted to try again.

But he didn’t.

Because he knew.

I was out of his league.

Mason and Trent struggled to their feet, glaring. Jason exhaled sharply, regaining his composure.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered.

I didn’t respond.

I didn’t need to.

He turned, stalking away with his bruised pride, his lackeys limping behind him.

Silence stretched between me and Celeste.

Then—

“You gonna keep pretending?” she asked, tilting her head.

I looked at her. “Are you?”

Celeste’s smirk flickered, just for a second.

Then she shrugged. “Fair enough.”

I studied her a moment longer.

She wasn’t normal either.

And if she knew that about me, then she was hiding something too.

I exhaled, turning toward the school. “See you around, Celeste.”

She didn’t try to stop me.

But as I walked away, I felt it again.

That same weight. That same watchful presence.

She wasn’t done with me yet.

Exciting 🌚! Celeste is catching on fast. Should we be worried for Xander, or should Xander be worried for himself?

Team Xander or Team Celeste? Drop your vote in the comments!