The air in Class 2-B had settled into its usual rhythm—low chatter, the hum of fluorescent lights, and the soft scrape of pencil on paper.
Max sat near the window, eyes on his notes but not really reading. The whispers from yesterday hadn't vanished; they'd just changed shape.
Now they lived in glances, half-hidden smiles, the way a few students kept sneaking photos when they thought he wasn't looking.
"Hey, Holloway," David whispered from a few rows back. "You ever notice you're trending without trying?"
Max didn't look up. "That's your word, not mine."
David grinned. "Yeah, but it's true. You got Emi, you got Kento glaring holes through your head, and you've got—"
The door slid open with a sharp click.
The room froze. Every voice cut off mid-breath.
A girl stood in the doorway, sunlight spilling past her shoulder like a stage light. Her uniform followed the rules just enough—oversized cardigan, skirt a touch too short, nails faintly pink. Her hair was caramel blonde, curled at the ends, and she chewed gum slow, like time itself waited for her.
Takamine Reina.
Third year. The kind of name that made even upperclassmen move aside.
Half the room straightened. The whispers returned in quick, hushed tones.
"She's here?"
"From 3-A?"
"No way, that's Reina—what's she doing here?"
Nora, the class rep, stood at once, voice a little too quick, a little too eager. "T-Takamine! Did you need something? I can—"
Reina didn't even glance her way.
Her gaze swept the room once before landing square on Max. She tilted her head slightly.
"You. Holloway, right? Step outside."
The class murmured.
David gave a low whistle. "Oh, this is about to be good."
Max rose without a word. The eyes followed him until the door slid shut.
The hallway outside was empty, washed in pale afternoon light. Reina leaned against the lockers, one heel pressed to metal, blowing a small pink bubble that popped softly. The scent of her perfume lingered—something sugary with a sharper edge beneath it.
"You're calmer than I expected," she said. "Most guys freeze when I call them out."
"Should I be nervous?"
"That depends." Her eyes flicked over him like she was appraising something rare. "You're the talk of the school. The transfer who dropped a martial arts regular. Emi's mystery boy. People like stories like that."
"Crowds always do."
"You don't like that?"
"Does it matter?"
She smiled faintly. "Maybe. To you."
She took a slow step closer, her shoes echoing on the tile, until he could count the flecks of gold in her irises.
"You've got that still-water look," she said. "People see what they want in you. Dangerous, quiet, cool, tragic—it's all the same fantasy."
"And what do you see?"
Reina popped her gum again, the sound delicate but deliberate. "Someone who tries too hard to look like he doesn't care."
The words landed sharper than she knew. Max didn't respond, but his silence gave her everything.
She smiled wider. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Secrets look good on you."
She brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his arm—a deliberate flicker of contact, quick as a spark.
"Come by the event committee after school," she said over her shoulder. "We handle student showcases, profiles, PR… all the shiny stuff. Someone like you would make headlines."
"I'm not interested."
"You will be."
She didn't wait for a response. Her heels clicked down the corridor, echoing like punctuation marks to a sentence he didn't understand yet.
When Max stepped back into the classroom, the silence was a living thing. Every head turned.
Then David broke it. "Dude, you talked to Takamine Reina and survived?"
Priya looked up from her phone, half-smirking. "She smiled at him. I saw it. She never smiles at anyone."
Kento muttered something sharp under his breath. Nora just stared, confusion flickering into something like disappointment.
The air buzzed, carrying the static of attention.
Max sat down, quiet as ever, though his pulse hadn't settled. Her words replayed whether he wanted them to or not.
Someone who tries too hard to look like he doesn't care.
She saw too much.
And she didn't even flinch.
He stared at the faint reflection in the window—his own face layered over the schoolyard below. Somewhere between the light and glass, the line between Daniel Holloway and Max Hart blurred. For the first time since arriving, he didn't know which one she had seen.
Later that night, his phone buzzed with a notification. The "2-B Audit" group chat came alive again.
Elias's messages came first: Report check-in. Anything unusual?
Imani responded quickly: More chatter about Holloway. It's spreading.
Sera joined in: Reina from 3-A pulled him out of class. Whole school's melting down.
Cael: Takamine Reina. Third year. Student council PR division. Record clean. Socially dominant. No red flags… yet.
Sera: Socially dominant's a cute way to say terrifying.
Max: She's observant.
Max: The kind that looks through you.
Sera: Careful, Holloway. Some storms don't warn before they hit.
He stared at the screen for a moment longer, then turned it facedown. The light faded. The quiet stretched thin.
Outside the window, the city lights flickered through the rain.
He could still smell her perfume. Still hear her voice.
Secrets look good on you.
He wasn't sure if she'd meant it as a compliment or a warning. Maybe both.
And for the first time since he arrived, Max wasn't sure if the storm was chasing him—
or if he'd just met someone else standing in its center.