As we walk toward our lockers, Lilia turns to me with a mischievous grin. “Hey, Adeline, I want you to meet someone. She’s going to love you,” she says, nudging me playfully.
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“You’re going to love her,” Lilia assures me, chuckling. “She’s waiting for us at our lockers. Come on!”
When we reach the lockers, I notice a strikingly beautiful girl standing there. Andwoah, she looks like she belongs on a runway or a magazine cover, with her long black hair all the way down to her shoulders, framing a face so flawless it’s almost intimidating. Her light brown skin glows just as brightly as her deep brown, fierce eyes.
This school must grow beautiful people or something.
Lilia beams. “Beatrice, meet Adeline. Adeline, this is Beatrice Mallory.”
The mention of her name instantly sparks recognition. Beatrice Mallory, daughter of Makaila Mallory, a world-renowned fashion designer (Naomi’s favourite) and a successful CEO of a global luxury brand. I had seen her and her parents on the news before. Of course she’s stunning.
Beatrice turns to me with a warm smile. “Call me Bea. Beatrice sounds way too formal.” Her voice is rich, friendly, disarming.
Before I can respond, she gasps, “Oh my god, aren’t you
gorgeous? Seriously, your eyes are amazing!”
“I told you!” Lilia exclaims triumphantly.
A genuine smile forms on my lips, though I can’t quite believe her words. “Oh, um, thank you,” I stammer, flattered but unsure how to respond. “That’s really kind of you.”
Beatrice chuckles softly, her brown eyes filled with sincerity. “You need to look in a mirror more often, Addie.”
Before I can say anything else, the sound of voices draws our attention. Will, Christian and Liam walk past, their presence magnetic. I catch myself staring, and for a brief moment, my eyes meet Will’s, who tilts his head slightly, a taunting smirk curling the corner of his mouth.
A shiver crawls up my spine before I can stop it.
Next to me, Beatrice lets out a low whistle. “Well,” she says, voice casual, “that didn’t take long.”
I frown. “What didn’t?”
She gestures vaguely toward the hallway. “It’s okay. Happens to the best of us.”
“I was just observing.”
“Observing,” she repeats, biting back a laugh. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that.”
“You and the rest of the school,” Lilia quips, gesturing toward the girls whose stares follow them like moths to a flame.
Bea’s expression shifts then, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. Her gaze lingers on Christian Ryder, who walks beside Will. The look she gives him is sharp, venomous.
If looks could kill, he wouldsobe dead right now. Noticing my realization, Lilia speaks up. “They used to have a… thing.”
“A thing?” I ask, curious.
Bea cuts in quickly. “It doesn’t matter. It meant nothing to the both of us.” Bea looks pretty set on it, but it’s clear there might be a little lie behind what she’s saying. Or a big one, seeing how Lilia is looking at her.
“So, who’s that girl?” I ask quickly, trying to change the subject. I gesture to the blonde girl, nervously searching through her locker. Lilia and Beatrice exchange a knowing look before speaking in unison, “Paris.”
“Paris?” I echo.
Lilia nods. “Yeah, she’s Berlin’s sister. But she’s nothing like her. Like at all.”
Paris has striking blonde hair, although a darker shade than Berlin’s and a lot shorter, barely reaching past her shoulders. Her eyes, though, are a shade of captivating hazel that radiates warmth instead of the piercing intensity of Berlin’s icy blue. Warmth and a kind of quiet sadness lingers beneath her expression. She’s so unlike Berlin, I never would have guessedthey were related. Clearly, she’s massively overshadowed by Berlin.
