The Man of Mystery

No one really knew where AJ came from - just that he appeared one day, gliding into school like he owned the pavement. A skateboard under his feet, afro flawless with a silver comb tucked in just right, and eyes hidden behind black shades that made everyone wonder what he was thinking.

Jacqui noticed him instantly, even though she tried not to.

She was the quiet girl. Not the kind you overlook, just the kind who didn't say much. Her world was books, headphones, and the occasional sketchpad. But AJ? He was loud without speaking. Every bounce of his basketball, every twist of his board, every slow pull-up in that sleeveless tee? it all said something. And Jacqui was listening.

What really got her was the car.

That M4 BMW Competition, jet black with red accents, roared through the parking lot like it had something to prove. People turned. Girls smiled. Guys stared. But AJ never looked at them. Just parked, hopped out, ran a hand through his hair - and walked away like he didn't just cause a scene.

Jacqui watched all of it from the library window. Every. Single. Day.

She told herself it was just curiosity.

But then came that night.

The school hosted a nighttime charity basketball event. Lights were low, music was loud, and AJ walked in like he wasn't made of skin and bone - but smoke and temptation. His jersey hung loose, chains glinted under the lights, and when he looked up into the crowd? his eyes locked with Jacqui's.

Something clicked. She felt it. Like he saw her in a way nobody else did.

He played like he was dancing, every move smooth, confident, dripping with energy that made people want to get closer. Jacqui sat frozen, heart thudding, thighs pressed tight. Every dunk, every smirk he tossed at the crowd, burned a little deeper.

When it ended, she found herself outside, alone - until headlights bathed her in gold.

The BMW purred in front of her.

"Need a ride?" His voice was low, laced with danger and a smile she couldn't see in the dark.

She got in.

The scent inside was something rich and expensive, with a hint of sweat and cinnamon. The bass thumped low. His hand grazed hers on the gearshift, and she swore the world slowed down.

"You're quiet," he said, eyes still on the road.

"I'm not good at talking," she whispered.

"Good. I like listeners."

The drive turned into a blur of city lights and silence that wasn't uncomfortable - it was heavy, charged. When they stopped under an overpass, he looked at her for the first time like he was choosing her.

And in that moment, she melted.

They didn't kiss. They didn't have to. The way he leaned in, the way her breath hitched, the way her knees brushed his - everything screamed yes.

But then came the girls.

Monday morning, AJ rolled in with a crowd - legs for days, glossed lips, laughter that made Jacqui flinch. They clung to him. Whispered in his ear. He didn't push them away. Didn't even look her way.

Jealousy bloomed fast and ugly in Jacqui's chest.

Until one day, she snapped. Walked right up to him in the quad, snatched the comb from his afro and held it up.

"Yours?" she asked, eyes sharp, heart racing.

He smiled slow, like she'd just passed a test.

"Keep it," he said. "Looks better on you."

From that day forward, the girls faded. AJ's gaze lingered only on her - at practice, at school, at night.

In a world full of gorgeous girls, he only saw Jacqui.

And every time the M4 roared to life, it was only her in the passenger seat.