Hallway Thrones

The school bell rang, its sharp echo carrying down the street. Groans and whines rose from the crowd of students funneling toward their classrooms.

In the middle of the rush, Jane—a blonde girl with round glasses and the school’s white-and-purple uniform—was shoved hard to the ground. Her glasses clattered across the pavement as her backpack burst open, notebooks and pens scattering everywhere. She gasped and scrambled to gather her things, but the laughter of her classmates swelled around her. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she ducked her head, wishing she could disappear.

“Oops!” A pretty brunette girl yelped, flashing a shit-eating grin. Her long curly hair bounced as she leaned down, her perfectly manicured hand covering a smirk. “Sorry, Jane~” she giggled wickedly. “Didn’t see you there! Thought you were a log.”

Jane froze. She had all the curves people whispered about—thick thighs, a generous chest, soft stomach, and a round bum that made her stand out. But in this moment, those features only fueled her humiliation. She kept her head low, silent.

“Shut up, whore!”

The words cut like a blade, and the hallway went still. Heads turned toward the voice.

A figure stood apart from the crowd—taller than most girls, about 5’8, with darker skin and a sharp black mullet. She wore a baggy gray long-sleeve over heavy black pants lined with chains, her platform knee-high boots decorated with skulls and spikes clanging against the floor as she shifted her weight. Hands shoved in her pockets, she radiated effortlessly, did I ask? vibe that made people wary of looking too long.

The brunette’s smile faltered. Slowly, she straightened, her popularity-warmed glow cooling into irritation. “Excuse me?” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

“You heard me, bitch. Shut. The. FUCK. Up.”

The tomboy’s voice cracked through the silence like a whip as she strutted toward the brunette, her spiked boots echoing against the tile.

Ella’s eyes narrowed, her pretty face tightening with outrage. “Do you even know who I am?” she shrieked, tossing her curls back with practiced flair. “I’m Ella Hastings—the daughter of Philip Hastings! Apologize for insulting me, or I’ll have you expelled on the spot!”

The crowd gasped. Whispers of Hastings rippled like wildfire. Everyone near the tomboy flinched and drew back, leaving only the two girls locked in a standoff.

The tomboy didn’t so much as blink. Her voice was cool, calm, cutting.

“I am Lenore Griffin.”

The name dropped like a hammer. A shudder passed through the crowd—everyone knew the Griffins. Their wealth was older, deeper, more untouchable than the Hastings legacy could ever hope to be. Even Ella faltered, her bravado cracking for a split second before she scoffed, spun on her heel, and stormed toward the school doors.

Silence lingered. On the floor, Jane was still scrambling to gather her scattered notebooks and pens, her hands shaking. Lenore crouched beside her, picking up the last of the things that had rolled farther away.

“Here,” Lenore said simply, her tone soft now, a stark contrast to moments ago.

Jane blinked up at her. “Th-thank you… Lenore?”

They nodded, head tilted slightly, studying her with quiet interest. “Yes. And you’re Jane.”

Jane’s cheeks flushed. She hugged her books close as Lenore stood, offering her a hand.

“I’m new here,” Lenore added. “Mind helping me find my classes?”

Jane hesitated, heart racing, then nodded shyly. “…Of course.”

Lenore ended up sharing two classes with Jane—Math and Chemistry. In Math, Jane found herself guiding them through formulas, almost like a tutor. But in Chemistry, the roles reversed; Lenore patiently walked Jane through equations, pointing out steps with effortless confidence.

Afterward, their schedules split—Lenore heading to PE while Jane slipped into art.

Partway through class, Jane excused herself to the washroom. On her way, she passed by the wide windows overlooking the field. Her eyes caught on Lenore instantly. They were running across the grass, a soccer ball at their feet. Their strides were long and sure, the ball moving like it was tied to them, never once slipping away. Others stumbled, but Lenore was smooth, untouchable.

A strange heat blossomed in Jane’s stomach, spreading lower, sharper, until she had to look away. Her face burned, and she ducked into the nearest gender-neutral bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

She sat down hard, covering her face. What is happening to me? Her heart pounded, thoughts racing. They had just met, and yet she was already unraveling, head over heels for someone she barely knew.

She tried to steady herself, but the image of Lenore wouldn’t leave her mind. The white tank top clinging to their frame, the black baggy shorts swaying with each step, their skin glowing with sweat beneath the sunlight. They stood out, radiant—strong, fast, beautiful.

Her breath quickened. Without thinking, her hand drifted down, brushing over her skirt, her thighs trembling as her fingers pressed against the damp fabric of her panties. She gasped softly, biting her lip. The warmth spread as she slid her fingers beneath the fabric, her touch finding slickness she couldn’t deny.

A soft whimper escaped her, echoing in the quiet stall. She shut her eyes tight, but all she saw was Lenore—running, shining, unstoppable. The thought made her body jolt, pleasure curling through her as she moved her hand in slow, desperate motions.

She pressed her other hand against her mouth to stifle a moan. God, what am I doing? Yet she couldn’t stop. Every image of Lenore—their strength, their calm voice, the way they’d looked at her earlier—flooded her, carrying her higher, until her whole body shook with release.

Jane sat there trembling, her breath uneven, shame and relief tangled inside her. She cleaned herself up quickly at the sink, cheeks still flushed, whispering to her reflection:

“…I can’t be falling for them already.”

Later, as they walked together toward Lenore’s last class of the day, Jane kept her face hidden behind her hair.

“What’s wrong?” Lenore asked, their voice low but probing.

“N-nothing,” Jane stammered, her cheeks burning. The same heat she’d felt earlier in the bathroom was bubbling back, flooding her veins.

Lenore suddenly stepped in front of her, pressing her back against the wall with a swift motion. Their heavy boot thudded up against the wall, right beside Jane’s face, caging her in.

“Tell me,” Lenore murmured.

Jane’s breath hitched. Her legs trembled, then gave out, and she slid down until she was staring up at them, wide-eyed and crimson.

Lenore looked down, studying her flushed face, then a slow smile spread across their lips. Their tone dropped, husky and teasing.

“Ohhh~ I get it now.”

Jane swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths.

“Come on.” Lenore reached down, grasping her arm firmly but gently, pulling her back to her feet. They dusted her off with surprising care before guiding her forward again.

“I-I’m sorry,” Jane blurted, bowing her head as they walked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lenore replied with a wink, their voice light, almost playful now. Then they disappeared into their classroom, leaving Jane standing in the hall, dazed.

With a spare period to herself, Jane retreated to the library. She sank into a corner seat, burying herself in homework, though her mind kept drifting—again and again—back to Lenore.

Before they split off for the day, Lenore handed Jane their number. Later, as Jane walked home, she couldn’t help staring at the new contact on her screen. The profile picture nearly made her melt—Lenore flashing a peace sign with their tongue out, skateboard under their feet, showing off their full outfit. The cat eyeliner sharpened their gaze, giving them a sultry, mischievous edge.

By the time Jane reached her apartment, her chest was tight with restless energy. She kicked off her shoes, unclipped her bra the second she shut the door, and flopped face-first onto her bed with a groan.

“Why are they so hot?!” she yelled, kicking her feet into the air—only to smack her foot hard against the bed’s railing. She yelped, clutching her toes with a pained whine.

“You okay?”

Jane looked up through watery eyes. Her roommate, Rebecca, stood in the doorway. She was tall, her long purple hair falling loosely around her shoulders, and wore nothing but an oversized baggy T-shirt that hung past her thighs. Whatever underwear she had on was hidden beneath the fabric, and she leaned lazily against the frame, arms crossed.

“I’m fine,” Jane muttered, wiping at the lone tear rolling down her cheek.

Rebecca smirked, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp with amusement. “So… how was hanging out with Griffin?”

Jane froze, color flooding her face. “W-what??”

“Oh, come on.” Rebecca chuckled, tilting her head. “I hear everything.”

Jane bolted upright, waving her hands in protest. “N-no you didn’t!”

Rebecca just grinned wider, her baggy shirt shifting slightly as she pushed off the frame and padded into the room.

Rebecca plopped onto Jane’s bed, the oversized T-shirt riding up slightly and revealing more of her thighs. Jane’s cheeks flamed.

“Becca, please… put on some shorts,” Jane pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut. “You know how you make me feel.”

Rebecca just laughed, tossing her hair back and letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. Oh! And by the way—it’s your turn to do the dishes and take out the garbage.”

“Ugh!” Jane groaned, collapsing onto her pillows.

Her phone buzzed on the bed beside her. She grabbed it and froze, a silly grin spreading across her face.

Lenore: Hey Jane.

Her fingers hovered over the screen before typing back, Hey Lenore! How are you?

Lenore: I’m pretty good. What are you doing?

Jane’s fingers flew over the keys. Just about to do the dishes—roommate cooked for us.

Lenore: Would you rather call so you don’t have to type?

Jane stared at the message for a long moment, heart hammering. Then she typed back, cheeks burning: Sure.

They ended up staying on call the entire night, their voices drifting in and out until Jane’s alarm blared at 6 a.m., startling them both awake.

Lenore let out a long yawn before murmuring in a raspy morning voice, “Good morning, beautiful.”

Jane’s face went scarlet. “M-morning, Lenore,” she stuttered, sitting up in bed. Her white tank top strained against her chest, threatening to slip out of place, and she tugged at it nervously.

On the other end of the call, Lenore sat up shirtless, unbothered. With no breasts to cover, they leaned too far and knocked their phone off the bed with a thud. “Fuck,” they grumbled, their voice still thick with sleep.

Jane couldn’t help but giggle.

As the morning rolled on, they got ready “together,” phones propped up like windows into each other’s rooms. Jane packed her things quickly, but Lenore moved slower, fussing with their outfit and eyeliner.

“You take forever,” Jane teased, watching them lean close to the mirror.

“You look amazing, though,” she added softly.

Lenore glanced at the camera, smirking. “Thank you, gorgeous.” They stuck out their tongue playfully.

Jane gasped. “You have a tongue piercing!”

“Uh, yeah?” Lenore chuckled, showing it off. “Got it yesterday after school.”

Jane squinted. “It looks like a pill.”

They leaned in closer, letting the light catch the little metal bead. “See?”

Jane nodded, smiling—until reality struck her. “The teachers are going to make you take it out.”

Lenore raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a defiant grin. “They can sure as hell try.”

They both laughed, the sound lingering like a secret shared just between them.