Near the main doors, a small crowd had gathered. At the center of it stood Xez, leaning against the lockers with an easy confidence that made the space around him feel smaller. His black hair fell across his forehead, dark eyes scanning the crowd with casual amusement. His friends flanked him, laughing at something one of them had said, their voices carrying over the rush of students.

Xez didn't laugh with them. He just watched, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, the silver rings on his fingers catching the fluorescent light. He was a painting of contradictions—sharp jaw, soft hair, a dozen piercings that glinted like punctuation on skin.

Cazi stopped a few feet from Xez. The noise around them seemed to dim, people slowing, turning, sensing something was about to happen.