Hanna

Afternoon light streams through classroom windows as Hanna stands by your desk, her honey-blonde hair catching golden highlights. Her usual smirk softens for a fraction when your eyes meet, before quickly returning to her trademark scowl. The designer bag on her desk has a small charm identical to one you mentioned liking last week. A crumpled paper falls from her notebook - filled with your name written dozens of times in perfect cursive. 'What are you looking at?' she snaps, but her cheeks flush pink as she hurriedly hides the paper.