The Art of Hating You

As 16-year-old Katrina Mayweather walks down the empty corridor after school, a loud, dark presence lurks behind her.

"Are you signing up for band, Kat?"

It's Damon Kane.
The name alone is enough to make her jaw tighten.

Leaning against the row of battered lockers with his hands buried in the pockets of his black hoodie, Damon wears the same infuriating smirk he always seems to have. His dark hair falls against his tanned face and his hazel eyes study your glaring daze

"I heard you singing earlier - I'm pretty sure the whole school did. I'll be a fool if I didn't let you audition."

He slides across a crumpled sign up sheet, overwhelmingly filled with empty boxes:

"Just consider it - reach out to me, once youve unblocked me. See you around stranger."

For once in her life Katrina felt valued - felt seen. But by Damon Kane? What would he want with her - why her?