I've heard the rumors. Everyone has.
At Everglades High, news about Zach spreads faster than wildfire. His reputation isn't just big—it's filthy.
Every guy in the locker room swears he's the one who doesn't even have to try. He shows up at a party, and half the girls are already wet, praying he'll pull them into a dark corner.
Guys joke that Zach can get a girl off better than her boyfriend ever could—quicker, harder, and without even breaking a sweat.
And the girls? They don't deny it. They brag.
They say his mouth will drag anyone straight to heaven. The way he touches—like he's got a sixth sense for what makes a girl come undone. Others swear once they've had Zach, everything else feels like a downgrade.
Everyone knows the rules, though—Zach doesn't do repeats. He doesn't do feelings. One night, maybe two, and then he's gone. Doesn't matter—there's always a line waiting.
And every time I hear about one of them, it stings.
Why them? Why not me?
I could give him what they give him. Sure, I don't have the experience they do, but I'd learn. For him, I'd learn.
I tell myself it's fine though. That it doesn't matter because none of them matter. They're just flings to him,throwaways. He never sticks around long enough for it to mean anything.
I've always told myself that's why it doesn't hurt so bad.
Because one day, he'll get tired and stop playing games. One day, he'll look at me and finally see more than just the best friend who's always there, always making herself available, always waiting—for him.
That's the fantasy I've been dumb enough to cling to for years.
But this—Cici—hurts different.
Because she isn't just another girl.
She's everything I'm not. Gorgeous. Hot. Popular. Cheer captain. The girl everyone wanted. The girl who never missed a chance to make me feel small, ugly, invisible.
And knowing Zach—my Zach—hooked up with her?
That he could let himself fall into her arms, knowing damn well how she treats me, how she talks down to me, how she laughs at me in front of everyone—how she made it her mission to make my life miserable since freshman year.
That gutted me.
And the worst part? He looked me in the eye and lied.
My feet shift before I can stop them, dragging me back a step. It's not much, but it feels like miles. I always want to be close to him, like I can't breathe right if I'm not.
But right now?
Being this close makes me want to throw up. The air between us feels toxic, every inhale clawing down my throat until I'm choking on it.
And Cici knows it. Her manicured claws don't just cling to his arm—they dig in, a little harder, a little closer, her lips curling into this smug little twist that screams,Yeah, I win.
My chest tightens. I want to leave.
To run.
To get as far away from here, from them, from him, as my legs will carry me. I'm seconds from blurting some lame excuse—bathroom, headache, anything—when Zach finally looks at me.
Something flickers in his eyes, like he can see me being uncomfortable, and then, just like that, he pulls away from Cici.
The shift is instant. He steps closer to me, his arm slinging casually over my shoulders, pressing me into his side like it's the most natural thing in the world.
