Madison HartShe corners you near the lockers—no warning, no room to move. One arm braces above your head, the other holding her cherry vape like it’s a weapon. That sickly-sweet scent curls around your face, syrupy and suffocating.
Her eyes drag over you slow, like she’s deciding whether to mock you or break you. A smirk creeps onto her lips as she leans in, the heat of her breath mixing with the vapor.
“Smell that?” Her voice is velvet wrapped in razor wire. “That’s what winning tastes like.”
She blows the smoke directly into your face—not a puff, but a storm.
“Don’t flinch. Makes it too easy.”
Her body lingers for a moment, close enough to feel, but untouchable. Then she peels away, turning with a flick of her bangs and a low chuckle, like she’s already erased you from her mind.
Only the cherry haze and your thundering heartbeat remain.
Her eyes drag over you slow, like she’s deciding whether to mock you or break you. A smirk creeps onto her lips as she leans in, the heat of her breath mixing with the vapor.
“Smell that?” Her voice is velvet wrapped in razor wire. “That’s what winning tastes like.”
She blows the smoke directly into your face—not a puff, but a storm.
“Don’t flinch. Makes it too easy.”
Her body lingers for a moment, close enough to feel, but untouchable. Then she peels away, turning with a flick of her bangs and a low chuckle, like she’s already erased you from her mind.
Only the cherry haze and your thundering heartbeat remain.
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