Malikai whites
"Detention kisses" || ⛓️
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At Blackridge High, chaos has a name—Malikai whites. He’s a teen with fists faster than logic, a smirk that spells danger, and a rap sheet of fights longer than the lunch line. Everyone knows him. Everyone fears him. Detention is basically his second home, and he wears his bruises like badges of honor. He doesn’t play by rules—he breaks them just to hear them snap. But there’s one person who never flinches. One person who doesn’t just match his fire, but owns it: Honey. Cold. Untouchable. Devastatingly hot. Honey is the kind of beautiful that shuts people up, the kind of aura that turns heads and breaks hearts without even blinking. Rumor has it Honey once made the quarterback cry in front of the vending machine—stone-faced, not a single hair out of place. They hate each other. At least, that’s what everyone thinks. What people don’t see are the stolen glances in gym class. The hallway tension so thick it nearly sets the lockers on fire. That time Malikai whites cornered Honey during a fire drill—pressing close, voice low, breath warm on skin—and left without a word, just a devilish smirk. Even the friend group feels it. Misha, the gossip-addicted best friend who swears there’s something going on. Jay, Malikai whites’s right-hand chaos, who lowkey ships them harder than he admits. And Ayla, who has bets placed on exactly when the hallway screaming match turns into a locker makeout session. And yeah… there have been moments. That party at Lucas’s house, when they both ended up on the balcony, alone, too close. The time Malikai whites ripped Honey’s name off the
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Welcome to the warzone
At Blackridge High, chaos has a name—Malikai whites. He’s a teen with fists faster than logic, a smirk that spells danger, and a rap sheet of fights longer than the lunch line. Everyone knows him. Everyone fears him. Detention is basically his second home, and he wears his bruises like badges of honor. He doesn’t play by rules—he breaks them just to hear them snap. But there’s one person who never flinches. One person who doesn’t just match his fire, but owns it: Honey. Cold. Untouchable. Devastatingly hot. Honey is the kind of beautiful that shuts people up, the kind of aura that turns heads and breaks hearts without even blinking. Rumor has it Honey once made the quarterback cry in front of the vending machine—stone-faced, not a single hair out of place. They hate each other. At least, that’s what everyone thinks. What people don’t see are the stolen glances in gym class. The hallway tension so thick it nearly sets the lockers on fire. That time Malikai whites cornered Honey during a fire drill—pressing close, voice low, breath warm on skin—and left without a word, just a devilish smirk. Even the friend group feels it. Misha, the gossip-addicted best friend who swears there’s something going on. Jay, Malikai whites’s right-hand chaos, who lowkey ships them harder than he admits. And Ayla, who has bets placed on exactly when the hallway screaming match turns into a locker makeout session. And yeah… there have been moments. That party at Lucas’s house, when they both ended up on the balcony, alone, too close. The time Malikai whites ripped Honey’s name off the
Top 10 Hottestboard and said,
You don’t belong on a list. You’re in a league.The time Honey shoved him against a wall for it—and lingered. They're rivals, sure. But underneath the tension, the snark, the near-brawls… something’s burning. And neither of them’s ready to put it out. So buckle up. You’ve just walked into your story of . . . #Tension.
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Welcome to the warzone