How could I describe Jaimes Sullivan?

He was tall—really tall. His skin was a rich, warm brown, glowing under the light, making him stand out, like someone who naturally drew attention. His features were sharp, almost too perfect, as if sculpted from marble. He wasn't just attractive—he was the kind of handsome that made you lose your words. The kind of guy who looked too good to be real, too good to be safe.

His beauty wasn't something you could admire from a distance. It had a pull, something primal, like the edge of a cliff—dangerous, and yet you wanted to get closer, just to see how far you could fall.

I should've known better. My parents had always warned me about boys like Jaimes Sullivan—the kind with too much charm and too little regard for anything or anyone. But when he looked at me, when the world seemed to shrink to just the two of us, I forgot those warnings. The more I tried to remember, the more the thought slipped away.

He had this presence that left an impression, one that both intrigued and unsettled me. My parents wouldn't want me around someone like him. Funny enough, they already knew him—my entire family did. Though I didn't understand why at the time, I soon learned that Jaimes had been part of my life long before I ever laid eyes on him.

I first met Jaimes during my freshman year at university. We were in the same Trigonometry class—a subject I dreaded, and somehow, his presence made it even worse.

But let me start at the beginning.

Today is my first day at university, and I'm buzzing with excitement. Nick, my older brother, had promised to pick me up after my classes. Typical Nick—he'd already memorized my class schedule before I even had the chance to.

I had chosen Psychology as my major because I've always been fascinated by people—their thoughts, their actions, and the hidden motivations behind their behavior. As I walked into my first class, the room was nearly empty, just a few students scattered across the seats. I quickly found my spot—second row, by the window. It felt like the perfect place to observe everything without drawing attention to myself.

Five minutes before the class started, someone sat down next to me. I turned to see a boy with a wide, bright smile that was impossible to ignore.

"Hey, babe. I'm Joshua, but call me Josh," he said, his grin growing wider as if we had known each other for years.

I blinked, completely caught off guard. "Oh... I'm Arwen," I finally managed to respond, still processing the sudden burst of friendliness.

Before I could say anything more, he pulled me into a hug—a bone-crushing hug. "I hope we become best friends, girl!" he exclaimed. It was so unexpected that I couldn't help but laugh awkwardly. This was... weird, but also kind of sweet.

"Nice to meet you too, Josh," I replied, trying to match his energy but still feeling a little overwhelmed.

As we sat down, he whispered, "I'm nervous, though. Are you?"

I smiled, my nerves settling now that I realized I wasn't the only one feeling like this. "Yeah, definitely."

We exchanged majors—Josh was in Economics, but that didn't seem to dampen his enthusiasm about us becoming friends. By the end of the class, I already knew that Josh would be a constant presence in my university life. True to his word, he found me every day after that. Whether it was intentional or not, he became one of my closest friends. As the semester moved along, my circle expanded—Josh, Leroy, and I became inseparable.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But then came the dreaded Trigonometry class.

That day, I walked in with a sinking feeling. Math had never been my thing, and Josh wasn't there to make it any easier. The classroom filled up quickly, but the seat next to me—Josh's usual spot—remained empty.

Just as I was starting to relax, the door swung open, and in walked Jaimes Sullivan. The room seemed to shift with his presence. He didn't look like your typical student. He wore a beanie, and though he wasn't clad in a leather jacket, something about him screamed "bad news." It was in the way he carried himself—confident, almost arrogant, like the world owed him something.

He moved like he owned the room, each step calculated yet easy, as if the ground beneath him bent to his will. When his eyes landed on you, it felt less like looking and more like... assessing. He didn't just see you—he sized you up, as if he already knew every secret you were trying to hide.

And then, for just a moment, the world shrank to the space between you and him. It was unnerving, how much he could say with a glance, how he managed to strip away pretense without uttering a single word. You wanted to look away, to escape that penetrating gaze, but somehow you couldn't. It was as if, in that second, you were being weighed, measured, and, ultimately, found wanting.

You weren't sure what his game was, but one thing was certain: Jaimes Sullivan wasn't someone to be underestimated.

"You're late, Mr. Sullivan," Mrs. Duevan, our professor, said sharply.

Jaimes glanced at her, completely unfazed. "Have you started the class yet, ma'am?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I was about to."

"Then I'm not late," he replied, flashing a grin as he sauntered over to the empty seat next to me.

I sat up a little straighter, trying not to make eye contact. Something about him made me anxious, and I wasn't eager to get caught up in whatever trouble he was destined to bring.

"Alright, everyone, find a partner," Mrs. Duevan instructed. "You'll be working together on your project for the semester."

I felt my heart sink. Without Josh here, I was on my own. I hoped maybe I could convince Mrs. Duevan to make an exception.

"Hey," a voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked over, and Jaimes was staring at me, his dark eyes intense.

"Are you deaf?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

I cleared my throat. "No."

"Good. Go up and get our topic, will you?" he said casually, as if it were a foregone conclusion that we were partners.

"Wait, are we partners?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Yup. For the whole semester. Now go get the topic, angel," he added with a playful grin, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable he made me.

"My name's not Angel," I muttered, feeling my face heat up. "It's Arwen."

"Sure, whatever. Go get it."

Reluctantly, I stood and made my way to the front of the class to get our assignment. When I returned, Jaimes was already standing, as if ready to leave.

Before I could hand him the folder, a group of cheerleaders surrounded him, all vying for his attention. One of them, Chelsea, leaned in close. "Jaimes, want to switch partners? I'm sure Lindsay wouldn't mind."

I waited awkwardly, wondering if he would ditch me for someone more popular.

To my surprise, Jaimes barely looked at her. "Sorry, don't know you. And I already have a partner," he said flatly.

He turned to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the classroom without a second glance at the cheerleaders.

"See, angel? I told you. Now, when do we meet to work on this thing?" he asked as we walked, his tone suddenly businesslike.

"Angel?" I bristled at the nickname, but the way his voice slid over it—like he was testing how far he could push me—made it stick in my mind. I wanted to snap at him, to remind him my name was Arwen. But I didn't. Part of me wondered why.

I stammered, "Uh, whenever works for you, I guess."

"Give me your number. I'll text you," he said, not even bothering to look at me as he held out his hand.

I scribbled it down and handed it to him, still reeling from how quickly everything had shifted.

"Arwen. Nice name," he said with a smirk before walking away, disappearing into the crowd without a second glance.

I stood there for a moment, watching him go, wondering what I had just gotten myself into. It was unsettling how easily he seemed to flip between smooth and serious, how effortlessly he made it feel like we were already entangled in something bigger than a school project. The knot in my stomach tightened, but I couldn't shake the curiosity that tugged at me, pulling me deeper into the unknown.