Him
“I’ve never had a problem with gay people.
Just him.
The way he talks.
The way he looks at me like he sees right through me.
It’s annoying.
It shouldn’t matter.
So why does it?”
Those were my thoughts—right before someone asked me why I hated him.
I don’t hate him.
I just don’t like him.
There’s a difference
My name is Ethan Scott.
I’m 6'4, athletic—defined, but not bulky. Lightly tanned skin. Brown hair that always looks a little messy but somehow still works. Sharp hazel eyes people say are “intense.” A jawline I didn’t ask for but get comments about anyway.
Apparently, that’s enough to make me the school hottie.
Not that I care.
I don’t put much effort into how I dress, but somehow everything still looks intentional. I’m not complaining.
People describe me as confident. Intimidating—even when I’m not trying. Controlled.
They look at me like I’ve got everything figured out.
Maybe it’s because I’m a Scott.
My dad owns companies across the world. Last month, his net worth was estimated at $865 billion. My two older brothers are already CEOs, and my sister is making a name for herself in fashion.
Perfection isn’t optional in my family.
It’s expected.
And me?
I’m supposed to fit that image.
But then… there’s Luca.
Luca Moretti.
The only person who gets a reaction out of me—and I don’t even understand why.
He’s 5'9, lean, softer in build. His skin is smooth—almost too perfect. His dark brown hair falls in loose waves like he doesn’t bother controlling it.
And his eyes…
They’re expressive. Too expressive. Like you can read every emotion in them if you look long enough.
I try not to.
He’s got this calm, observant way about him. Like he’s always watching, always noticing. Quietly confident. Not loud. Not desperate for attention.
Which makes it worse.
He doesn’t try.
He just is.
Oversized shirts. Rings. Chains. Sometimes an earring.
And yeah—
He’s openly gay.
