Mr. President Perfect

“Hey, what the hell?” he yelled. He looked up, ready to curse out whoever bumped into him.

But the view from below was insanely melodic. It was surprisingly precious.

What the fuck, he thought. His throat went completely dry and his pulse raced like crazy. Am I dying, or did I just hit some forbidden level of reality?

The stranger wore a massive black hoodie over a crisp white polo that made every sharp angle of his Latino flawless face pop. His curly locks fell perfectly. 

Every instinct screamed at Josh to run or faint in a dramatic movie-worthy collapse. He was straight. He had straight hair and straight A’s. He was the king here. This fluttering in his chest was absolutely forbidden.

“Are you okay? I am really sorry and I did not mean to,” the stranger said.

The voice was strong and pleasantly deep. It sent an unwanted crimson peach stain creeping up Josh's cheeks. He had to act forward. He was perfect. He scrambled for control and forced a rigid smile even as the boy held out a hand to help him up.

His brain screamed at him not to touch that hand or he would lose his perfect-boy image.

“I don’t need a hand to help me stand because I can do this on my own,” Josh replied.

He puffed up his chest and straightened his posture as he got to his feet. “See? I don’t need any help.”

He threw a quick glance toward the hallway, itching to escape back to his perfectly curated routine.

“Hey! Wait.”

Bullshit, he thought. His chest tightened as he stopped.

“Wait, I’m really sorry! Can I properly introduce myself to you?” the guy asked.

“Why?” Josh replied without turning around. He was afraid his heart might jump out of script if he looked again.

“I really just want to make a good start in here. I’m actually new he—”

“Yeah, I know,” Josh filled in for him.

He turned his head slightly. The boy was scratching his neck and shoved his palm into a hoodie pocket big enough to swallow a whole McDonald’s burger.

“How did you know?” the boy asked with pure curiosity.

“Because your face isn’t familiar here,” Josh said with a sharp and commanding voice. He stepped closer. “I’m Josh Anderson. The Council President here. We should be heading to our respective subject classrooms. Sorry, but I have to go.”

He turned away and forced himself to walk.

“Anyway, I’m Tristan! I was the president of the council at my previous school by the way!” the boy shouted down the hall.

Josh gave a quick thumbs-up over his shoulder and completely ignored the lingering awkwardness.

Minutes later, Josh stepped inside his English class. The chatter died instantly, swallowed by his presence. He walked smoothly to his desk and saw his name taped to the seat.

Josh Anderson. King.

A smirk molded onto his face as he sat down. The girls in the other row immediately started to stare.

“Okay bro? Heard someone said you got knocked over earlier. True or false?” Thomas chuckled.

Thomas sat beside him, looking perfectly dressed with an impossibly judgmental rich-kid vibe.

They had been tight since elementary school. Josh stiffened his arm and forced a smile to keep his status untouchable.

“Yes, it’s true. But it’s okay. Didn’t happen on purpose,” Josh said.

Just then, a figure sprinted toward the classroom entrance.

It was Tristan.

Josh’s eyes went wide and his mind went into overdrive. Was this his first class too?

“Holy fudge,” he muttered under his breath. He barely processed the absolute chaos Tristan had just thrown into his perfectly controlled world.

The English lesson ended, and Josh headed straight for the principal’s office.

An A- was also marked on his test paper, which was an imperfection for dear Josh.

He walked with a sharp sense of purpose. Every student he passed was just a blur because his mind was locked on the heavy doors ahead. Being a leader meant dealing with sudden calls to action even when the schedule felt packed.

He took a deep breath as he reached the door. Just as his fingers were about to grip the cool metal knob, a thunderous sound echoed through the quiet corridor.

The heavy thud of frantic footsteps raced toward him. Josh turned and felt a hot flush creep across his cheeks.

It was Tristan. He was running full speed with chaotic energy.

Not again, Josh thought.

“What are you even doing here?” Josh asked while trying to steady his own breathing.

Tristan’s hair was completely disheveled. Josh’s gaze lingered on the messy strands before sinking into Tristan’s eyes, which were the striking color of a deep ice ocean. His mind started racing in a panic. Calm down, Josh! What is wrong with you!

“I am obviously here to apply for the position of School Vice President,” Tristan said. He crossed his arms and a confident grin spread across his face.

“Oh, really? How funny,” Josh replied with a dry and hollow fake chuckle. He doubled down on his skepticism. “It is literally impossible for you to just apply like that. You need votes from the student body. Are you stupid or something?”

The grin vanished. Tristan’s jaw tightened with visible annoyance.

“For your information, I am definitely not stupid,” Tristan snapped back. He leaned in close. “The principal told me to come here because of the sudden vacancy. He said I could be appointed as the direct Vice President under the emergency clause.”

Josh felt his jaw drop. The shocking revelation hit him like a physical weight. 

The idea of the administration hand-picking someone for such a high role was unheard of. He stared at Tristan and wondered if this was all some elaborate prank.

“Fine, then why don’t you just walk with me inside that office and show me if this is true?” Josh challenged.

He watched a small twitch form on Tristan’s face as the pressure built up.

“Fine,” Tristan answered back.

As they turned toward the heavy door, Josh's thoughts began to spiral. He had spent countless late nights working his way up the ladder and sacrificing his personal time. The idea that Tristan could just walk in and take the seat was a massive slap in the face. It felt unfair and completely illogical.

The thought of constant proximity was exhausting. They would be forced to spend every single day together.

Tristan opened the door and spoke in a deep baritone voice. “My lady.”

Then he winked. It made Josh’s mind spin.

“Fuck you,” Josh muttered as he stepped toward the principal.

The two boys sat on separate chairs directly across from each other. Josh remained stiff and controlled, while Tristan leaned back as if he owned the space. The tension in the room was thick and almost suffocating. Tristan flashed another smug smirk meant to provoke, but Josh refused to take the bait.

The principal began speaking in a firm and measured tone. He wore a crisp white polo and a gold necklace that glinted against the fabric. His hair was carefully styled and polished under the overhead lights.

After Josh finished explaining his part, the principal dropped the news. Tristan wasn't just a random transfer. His family was the new major benefactor for the school, and Tristan had already proven his status as president at his previous elite academy. Due to the sudden vacancy and the emergency clause, Tristan was being presented as the new Vice President effective immediately.

Josh sat there stunned. The words echoed in his head and refused to sink in. Tristan? Vice President?

Jealousy hit him instantly. He had worked tirelessly to prove he deserved his title. Now, some swaggering newcomer with deep pockets had secured one of the highest positions in an instant.

It didn’t feel fair to him at all.