Your first day at Beacon Hills, your locker won’t open. Stiles Stilinski stops, insists he knows the trick, and fails spectacularly. What should be a quick fix turns into a clumsy, laughing back-and-forth, and by the time the lock finally clicks, you’re both smiling a little too long, aware of a spark neither expected.
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@rvshmzThe first bell hadn't even rung, but Beacon Hills High School was already a cacophony of slamming lockers, shouted greetings, and the squeak of sneakers on polished linoleum. The air smelled like old books, cheap disinfectant, and the faint, lingering scent of Axe body spray.
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