The bell shrieked overhead, freeing the class into a wave of scraping chairs and restless chatter. Adrian slung an arm across Ethan's shoulders as if the boy were his personal armrest, falling into step with the usual crew as they spilled into the hall. The air buzzed with overlapping laughter, rumors and the shrill giggles of girls swapping gossip by the lockers.
"So, wait—" Ethan tilted his head, smirking. "You already broke up with her? Didn't you two start dating like… two weeks ago?"
The question earned a ripple of chuckles from the group. Nobody sounded shocked, they'd heard this tune before.
Adrian stretched his grin, unbothered. "Mm. I'm with Eliana now," he said with a lazy shrug, as if he were announcing the weather.
"God, you move fast," Avery chimed in, rolling her eyes but clearly entertained.
"More like reckless," Marcus added with mock severity. "Pretty sure half the girls in school have your number. And the other half hate you for it."
"Correction," Adrian said smoothly, flashing his teeth in a smirk. "They love to hate me."
The group dissolved into laughter, the noise carrying them down the corridor and straight into the cafeteria.
The scent of fried chicken and buttered rolls hit Adrian first, his stomach already growling despite the smug grin plastered on his face. He grabbed a tray, flashing one of his easy smiles at the cafeteria workers. Like clockwork, they slid an extra scoop of mashed potatoes onto his plate.
By the time he reached the table, the circle was already half-filled with familiar faces bent over trays, the chatter resuming without pause. Adrian dropped into his usual seat, stretching his legs beneath the table like he owned the space.
"Haven't seen Leon today," he said, stabbing into his food. "He skip or what?"
Avery didn't look up, too busy rearranging her untouched salad. "He called in sick, I think. No clue why."
Adrian hummed, chewing. The lull didn't last long, Ethan elbowed him in the side, hard enough to make him set down his fork with a clatter.
"Spill," Adrian said, narrowing his eyes. He knew that look, the one Ethan got right before saying something dumb enough to either get him killed or applauded.
Ethan leaned closer, voice dripping mischief. "Didn't you say the other day you could make anyone fall for you? Like, anyone?"
Adrian arched a brow. "Yeah, what about it?"
The table went quiet with interest, forks pausing midair. Adrian glanced around, irritation flickering under his calm smile. He remembered saying it, sure, half-joking, half-ego. He hadn't expected Ethan to file it away like evidence.
Ethan grinned wider, enjoying the spotlight. "Why don't we make that interesting?"
Marcus whistled low, already grinning. "Oh, this is gonna be good."
"Yeah?" Adrian prompted, leaning back in his chair. He pretended to look bored, but his curiosity pricked.
Ethan tilted his chin toward the far corner of the cafeteria. "Bet you fifty bucks you can't make that guy fall for you in three months."
Adrian followed his gaze and instantly froze.
Ivan sat alone, exactly where rumor placed him. At the edge of the cafeteria, book propped open in one hand, tray untouched. His posture was sharp, back straight, head slightly tilted down but his eyes, when they flicked up were unflinching. Cold. It was like he sat in a different atmosphere entirely, removed from the chaos of the room.
Adrian's lips curved on instinct, masking the hitch in his chest. Inside, his thoughts spat fire. What the hell is he saying?
But outside? His grin didn't falter for a second. "Three months?" Adrian drawled, propping his chin on his hand. "Make it two."
The table erupted in laughter, whoops of approval bouncing off the cafeteria walls.
"And you all," Adrian added, sweeping his fork toward the group, smirk sharpened, "better pay up too. Don't think Ethan's the only one coughing up when I win."
Ethan slapped the table, already digging for his phone to type notes of the bet, while the others snickered and muttered plans about keeping score.
Adrian picked up his drink, swallowing it down smooth but his eyes, just for a flicker, slid back to the corner table.
Ivan ate with quiet focus, chewing slowly, as if the buzz of chatter around him were nothing more than background noise. Halfway through his meal, a prickle crawled up the back of his neck. That instinctual weight of someone's gaze. He paused, the fork hovering, eyes flicking up for the briefest second. Across the room, a cluster of laughter carried but he didn't bother to pinpoint where it came from. Whoever it was and whatever it meant, none of it had anything to do with him.