Ethan Grey.
That was the name echoing in every corner of the school by Monday morning.
And the funny part? He didn't even try to make himself noticed — but somehow, he already was.
Every girl talked about how mysterious he looked.
Every guy said he was weird because he didn't talk much.
And me? I made sure to keep him on his toes.
At least, that was the plan.
I caught him again in the library during lunch break, sitting alone by the window, earbuds in, sketching something in a small black notebook.
"Hey, new boy," I said, leaning over his table.
He didn't even look up.
I frowned. "Wow. You're still rude."
Finally, he pulled out one earbud and looked up at me. His tone was calm, but the way his gaze met mine made my stomach twist.
"Do you need something?"
"Yeah," I said, sliding into the seat across from him. "I need to know why you act like you're better than everyone."
He gave a small, humorless smile. "Maybe I just don't care what people think."
His voice was quiet — but confident. Almost cold.
And it got under my skin.
"Well, around here," I said, leaning closer, "you should care. Or people might start thinking you're hiding something."
He looked right at me — not intimidated, not angry — just… curious.
"Are you always this bored?" he asked.
That caught me off guard. "What?"
"You pick fights to make your day interesting," he said softly. "Must be exhausting pretending not to feel anything."
For a second, my breath caught.
He couldn't know that.
He couldn't possibly see through me like that.
But before I could say anything, he stood up, put on his hoodie, and said, "See you around… bully girl."
Then he walked away — just like that — leaving me speechless.
The word bully stuck in my head the rest of the day.
I wasn't used to guilt. But somehow, that one word made my chest heavy.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
His voice replayed in my head, over and over.
And the worst part? I caught myself wondering what he was drawing in that notebook.