luxequills
All I wanted was a quiet senior year. Good grades, perfect attendance, no drama.
Then I got stuck in Seat 17,back row, broken armrest, and a boy who looks like trouble wrapped in a school uniform.
He's loud where I'm quiet, reckless where I'm careful, and somehow, he knows exactly how to get under my skin.
We're nothing alike. We shouldn't even be talking. But between late-night study sessions, unexpected team projects, and stolen glances in the library...
Maybe Seat 17 isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me.
Maybe it's the start of everything