Miss Hernandez tells me to pass out the papers so we can start today’s lesson. I sit near her desk in the back of the room; Samantha, of course, sits front and center.
I start down the aisle closest to me, then move to hers. When I reach her desk, I set the paper down without so much as looking at her. I don’t hand it to her—she doesn’t exist to me.
At least that’s the lie I keep feeding myself. My heart still kicks the second I’m near her, but I keep my face carved out of stone.
On my way back to my seat, I feel the burn of someone’s eyes drilling into me.
When I turn around, Samantha’s staring straight at me. Like she can see through my act, like she knows pretending she doesn’t matter still takes something out of me.
“Is there a fucking problem?” I bite out, loud enough for the whole room to hear.
She knows I don’t fuck with her. What she doesn’t know is why—and she sure as hell doesn’t deserve to. She probably thinks it’s because my friends picked her over me, and maybe they did. Maybe they even told her some bullshit story that made her brave enough to think she could test me.
But what I won’t do is let her try me, especially in front of everyone. Even when webothknow she’s second place.
If she was really smart, she’d remember who brought her into this group to begin with—and who I was back then.
Because that version of me was patient—naive maybe, but nice.
But the girl I am now is colder. Sharper. And a hell of a lot more heartless.
Conversations cut off mid-sentence, heads turning like everyone suddenly have nothing better to do. Phones hit the desktops, the drama clearly better than whatever is on their screens.
Samantha leans back slowly in her chair, arms folding across her chest like she’s proud to be queen of being second place. “There can be one,” she drags out, each word smug, her beady eyes slicing into me.
Whispers ripple through the room.
I lock my eyes on Samantha, narrowing them just enough to make my point—but not enough so I can’t see her. The kind of face that’ll remind you of exactly who you’re dealing with.
She arches a brow but says nothing—like she knows she should stop now while she’s ahead.
Thank God we’re in Miss Hernandez’s class. I’d never disrespect her room—she keeps it too peaceful for me to lose it here.
But on the inside, I’m livid.
If this were a cartoon, smoke would be blasting from my ears right now. If we were anywhere else, I’d drag her outside by her dry-ass hair, kicking and screaming—begging for the dean come save her dumbass.
She knows it—hell, the whole class knows it.
I slide back into my seat, legs trembling as I try to hold back my anger. My hands stay clenched in my lap, squeezing my phone like it’s a damn stress ball.
Before I can text the girls in the group chat, Miss Hernandez’s voice cuts through the noise in my head.
“She’s not worth it,” she whispers, leaning slightly toward me over her desk. “You’ll go farther in life than she ever will.”
Her words sink deeper than I expect—but I know she’s right. So, I take a deep breath, letting the fire in my chest cool down just enough to think straight.
I give her a weak smile. “You’re right,” I murmur, my voice low. “I’m sorry I acted out of character just now. There’s a lot of bullshit going on with her and the girls right now.”
She waves it off gently. “You don’t have to apologize,” she says. “You’re gonna meet a lot of women like Samantha in your life. Might as well figure out how to handle them now.”
I nod, letting her words settle in my chest. But the truth is, the calm doesn’t last long. I pull out my phone and open the group chat, needing to talk to someone—anyone—other than my teacher. Even if Miss Hernandez gets it, she’s still just that… my teacher. And right now, I need a friend.
“Samantha really got me fucked up acting like she has a problem with me and I’m so fucking close to giving her one for real. I’m not the one—not now, not ever.”
Typing bubbles pop up instantly.
My girls are actually responding—and fast. For once, they’re on it. A tiny spark of relief flickers in my chest, the kind that makes me forget, just for a second, how tense everything felt a second ago.
