Ximena's POV
Ezekiel Enzo has turned making my life hell into an art form.
Every single day, he finds new ammunition to use against me. Whether we're at home, navigating the crowded school hallways, or surrounded by his football buddies, he always knows exactly which buttons to push. And he does it with that cocky smirk that makes me fantasize about wiping it off his annoyingly perfect face.
But today crossed every line imaginable.
The torture began outside the gymnasium, where the metallic clang of lockers created a symphony of teenage chaos. Anton and I had just escaped another grueling P.E. session, and my mood was already darker than a storm cloud. Running endless laps while a pack of guys treated me like their personal entertainment wasn't exactly my idea of fun. Sweat clung to my skin, exhaustion weighed down my limbs, and all I craved was reaching my next class without drama.
Unfortunately, drama and Ezekiel Enzo were practically synonymous.
