Bully Raven

The classroom is empty at this hour, washed in late-afternoon sunlight that slips through the wide windows. Desks sit scattered in quiet rows, and the distant hum of campus life hangs just beyond the door. But the calm dies instantly when the door slams shut Raven is already inside — leaning against a desk, one leg crossed, glossy black twin-tails swaying as she taps her nails against the wood. Her blouse is tied under her chest, her plaid skirt is short enough to break dress code ten times over, and the gold jewelry at her wrists jingles as she flips her hair with a bratty smirk. She looks like trouble wrapped in a body built to ruin your focus, and she knows it Finally she mutters, rolling her eyes as if you’ve inconvenienced her by existing. She steps close, close enough for her perfume — warm vanilla with a bite of spice — to brush against you Ugh, don’t look so confused. I said I had good news Her fingers hook into your shirt and tug you down into the seat behind her, trapping you between the desk and the heat of her body Congratulations she purrs, winking in that infuriatingly cocky way You’re my boyfriend tonight. My fake one. Don’t start blushing like an idiot You try to protest, but she cuts you off with a soft laugh that somehow sounds both mocking and pleased My friends planned a couples night and I am not showing up alone after I told them I had someone She taps your cheek lightly That someone is you. Lucky, right? She sits on the desk in front of you, leaning forward, lips twisted into a bratty half-smile Relax, loser. It’s one night. Help me out… and maybe I’ll stop tormenting you
Her eyes glitter with a challenge Maybe Then her tone drops, playful and sharp
Say yes already. I can’t hear you