Beneath the Bully's Gaze

Unspoken Tension

Mira, clutching her books tightly to her chest, rushed toward the main building, her heart pounding with anxiety. She had missed the bus that morning, a rare but unfortunate mistake, and arrived just as the bell rang. Late.

She wasn't alone in her plight, though. Ethan strolled into school with his usual nonchalance, his leather jacket slung lazily over one shoulder. Unlike Mira, who worried about the consequences, Ethan didn't seem to care. Being late wasn't unusual for him, nor was he concerned about detention; after all, his father owned the school. Rules were more of a suggestion to him.

"Late huh?" 

The voice made her stomach drop. Mira turned to see Ethan leaning casually against a wall, his tie loosened, his shirt untucked, and that maddening smirk playing on his lips. 

She groaned inwardly. Of course, he'd be here. Ethan had a knack for appearing at the worst times, like some malevolent shadow. 

"Go away, Ethan. I don't have time for this," she muttered, clutching her books tightly and attempting to walk past him. 

But Ethan, being Ethan, wasn't about to let her go so easily. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path with infuriating ease. 

"Aw, don't be like that," he said, his voice laced with mockery. "Where's the fire? Oh, wait—you're late. Detention's going to be fun for you today." 

Mira clenched her jaw, her patience already thin. "Don't you have something better to do?" 

His smirk deepened. "Not really. Besides, I'm late too. Guess that makes us detention buddies." 

Mira blinked, caught off guard. Ethan Carter, the notorious golden boy who got away with everything, in detention? That was hard to believe. 

"You're kidding," she said flatly. 

"Wish I was," he replied, though his tone lacked any real concern. "But hey, detention's not so bad when you're me." 

"Must be nice to be untouchable," she shot back, the sarcasm thick in her voice. 

Ethan chuckled. "It has its perks." 

Before she could fire back another retort, a sharp voice rang out behind them. "Mira Winters! Ethan Carter! Why are you still in the hallway? You're both late, and you know what that means!" 

Mira turned to see Mr. Gregson, the discipline teacher, marching toward them with a clipboard in hand and a scowl on his face. Her heart sank. 

Ethan, however, didn't seem fazed. If anything, he looked bored. "Great," he muttered. "The detention patrol." 

"We're so dead," Mira whispered. 

"Speak for yourself." 

Before she could ask what he meant, Ethan grabbed her wrist and yanked her into a nearby janitor's closet. The door slammed shut, enveloping them in near-total darkness. 

Mira gasped, yanking her arm free. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed. 

"Saving you from detention," he whispered back, his tone annoyingly smug. 

Her heart pounded, both from the suddenness of it all and the realization of how close they were. The closet was cramped, filled with mops and cleaning supplies, leaving barely enough room for the two of them to stand without touching. 

"This is insane," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're going to get caught!" 

"Not if you stop talking," he retorted. 

Outside, they could hear Mr. Gregson barking orders. "Check every room! They couldn't have gotten far." 

Mira's panic grew. She shifted, trying to put some space between them, but there was nowhere to go. Her hands instinctively pressed against Ethan's chest, an attempt to maintain some semblance of distance. 

Ethan stiffened at the contact. For a moment, he didn't say anything, and the only sound between them was their shallow, uneven breathing. 

"Stop squirming," he muttered finally, his voice lower than usual. 

"I'm not squirming," she shot back, her cheeks burning. 

"Yes, you are," he said, his tone laced with frustration—or something close to it. 

Mira glared up at him, though the darkness made it hard to see his expression. "Maybe if you hadn't dragged me in here—" 

She stopped mid-sentence when their eyes met. The faint sliver of light filtering through the slats of the door illuminated his face just enough for her to make out the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his gaze. 

Ethan was staring at her—really staring. His usually cold, mocking expression had softened, and for the first time, Mira saw something unguarded in his eyes. 

Her breath hitched. 

His gaze flickered over her face, lingering on the curve of her lips before moving back to her eyes. The tension in the air was suffocating, and Mira suddenly felt hyperaware of everything—the warmth radiating from his chest beneath her hands, the faint scent of his cologne, the rapid thrum of her own heartbeat. 

Ethan shifted slightly, as if to close the infinitesimal gap between them, but then he froze. His jaw tightened, and he abruptly looked away, breaking the moment. 

"Stop looking at me like that," he muttered, his voice gruff. 

"Like what?" Mira asked, her own voice barely audible. 

"Like you're trying to figure me out," he snapped, though the edge in his tone didn't quite mask the flush creeping up his neck. 

Mira blinked, startled by his sudden change in demeanor. "I wasn't—" 

"Whatever," he cut her off, his usual arrogance returning like a shield. "Just don't get used to this. You owe me for saving your sorry ass." 

Mira's cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "You're unbelievable." 

"And you're predictable," he shot back, though there was no real bite in his words. 

Before Mira could respond, the sound of footsteps outside the closet made them both freeze. The guard was close—too close. 

"Keep looking," the guard called to someone. "They have to be here somewhere." 

Mira held her breath, her pulse pounding in her ears. She could feel Ethan's chest rise and fall beneath her palms, his heartbeat steady but noticeably faster than usual. 

The footsteps eventually moved away, and the tension in the closet eased slightly. Ethan let out a low breath, a smug grin tugging at his lips. 

"See? Told you I'd get us out of it," he said. 

Mira rolled her eyes. "You're insufferable." 

"And yet, here we are," he replied smoothly, pushing the door open just enough to peek outside. "Coast is clear. Ladies first." 

Mira stepped out, her cheeks still flushed. She didn't look back at him as she hurried down the hall, desperate to put distance between herself and whatever had just happened in that closet. 

Ethan watched her go, his usual smirk faltering for a brief moment. His mind replayed the way her hands had felt on his chest, the way her wide eyes had held his gaze, and the way his resolve had nearly crumbled. Shit.

With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. "Get it together, Ethan," he muttered to himself before striding off in the opposite direction.