Unwritten Rules

1

Tyler Blake was the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went.

At six feet two inches, with a lean, athletic build honed by years on the ice, he had the sort of presence that was impossible to ignore. His dark brown hair, always a bit tousled as if he’d just come from a vigorous practice session, added to his rugged appeal. His thick, wavy locks fell just above his eyebrows and seemed perpetually in need of a trim, giving him a casually disheveled look. His piercing blue eyes had a way of seeing right through people, making girls swoon and guys feel either jealous or in awe.

Tyler knew he was a catch, and he played the part well.

But beneath that charming exterior, Tyler had a reputation—one that wasn’t as flattering as his looks. His notoriety stemmed from his exploits both on and off the ice.

On the rink, he was a star, but in the hallways of Lakeview High, he was known for something else entirely: his short-lived relationships.

Just that morning, Tyler had unceremoniously ended things with Megan, his third girlfriend, in just two months. She wasn’t the first, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. As Megan stormed off in tears, her friends glaring daggers at him, Tyler shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“Dude, you could at least try to keep one around until graduation,” teased his best pal, Jake, who stood beside him, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She was getting too clingy," Tyler muttered to his friends, who were leaning against the locker next to his. "You know how it is."

Mike laughed, shaking his head. "Man, you're brutal. That's three girls in two months. What's your secret?"

Tyler grinned, flashing his trademark smile, the one that had won him so many admirers. "No secret, just not sticking around when things get boring. Besides, I’ve got bigger things to focus on. Hockey season’s in full swing, and I can’t be tied down."

His phone buzzed with notifications—messages from girls, memes from his friends, reminders of upcoming hockey practices. Tyler sighed, closing the notification. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, right?

As Tyler made his way to history class, he was already planning his next move. Maybe he’d charm his way out, or maybe he’d just sleep through the lecture. It wasn’t like he needed to know about the past when his future was all that mattered. The NHL scouts would be at the big match in ten days, and if he played his cards right, he’d be drafted right out of high school. Who needed a diploma when you could have a multi-million-dollar contract?

As they walked as a group, the stares followed them. Tyler didn’t need to look to know that every girl in the hallway was watching him, some hoping they might be next, others glaring at him for what he’d done to Megan. He didn’t care much. He was used to being the centre of attention, and he thrived on it.

When they reached history class, Tyler’s usual bravado faltered just slightly. Ms. Anna Stevens was already at the front of the room, writing on the chalkboard with a focus that seemed more intense than usual. Her movements were sharp, almost angry, and the dark circles under her eyes were a stark contrast to the otherwise immaculate appearance she always maintained.

---

The clamor of students settling into their seats barely masked the disinterest that filled Ms. Stevens’ history classroom. The room was dimly lit by the overhead fluorescent lights, their harsh glow illuminating the walls covered in faded, unremarkable historical posters. The air was heavy with the scent of chalk dust and discontent, mingling with the faint odor of the students’ lunch leftovers.

Tyler Blake swaggered into the room, his entourage of boys in tow. They were the familiar latecomers, and their entrance was met with a collective groan from the students who had already braced themselves for the monotony ahead. Tyler’s confident stride and casual demeanor seemed to amplify the general air of disinterest in the classroom.