Disappointed doesn’t even begin to describe the way I feel as I take my leave. Outside in the hallway, I text Stephanie to let herknow that another disaster has struck—I’m stuck in chemistry with the queen, the king, and the bully.
As I walk toward the exit, I look up from my phone and notice the entire football team barreling down the hallway right at me. Probably heading for practice—Oh crap!Leading the stampede is none other than the guy who knocked me on my butt this morning.
I want to move, but fear sweeps over my legs, cementing them to the floor. My brain screams at my feet to run, dodge, do something, but they might as well be sunk in the floor. This is what prey animals must feel like when they spot a predator—frozen by their own survival instinct that somehow forgot the “flight” part of fight-or-flight.
I close my eyes and clutch my phone close to my chest, bracing for impact, but it never comes . . . not even a thud of elbows against my body. The seconds stretch into an eternity as I wait for the inevitable collision, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. When did the hallway become so quiet?
The stampede passes by, and the deep voice I’d recognize anywhere asks me, “You okay?”
I open my eyes. Theo stands right in front of me. This close, I notice the intensity of his green eyes, his musky scent, the easy smirk he wears. He’s positioned himself right in front of me. Is that why I wasn’t knocked on my butt again?
I swallow hard as my heart performs an entire gymnastics routine complete with dismounts and twists. Why is he so annoyingly good-looking? My eyes dart away from him as I feelthe warmth of his body on my face. I’m suddenly aware of every inch of me—my awkward stance, my messy hair, the stupid Labubu keychain dangling from my backpack that seemed cute this morning but now feels childish.
And what is up with thisheightdifference? The top of my head barely reaches his collarbone! I never knew he was this tall . . . but then again, I never stood this close to him in high school before. He towers over me—solid and immovable and somehow making me feel both protected and intimidated at the same time.
“Are you hurt?” His voice is polite, but there’s something else there—concern? Annoyance? I can’t tell.
“I’m okay, um . . . thanks,” I mumble, stepping aside, my voice coming out as barely more than a whisper. My cheeks burn as our eyes meet again. His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer than I expect, and for a split second, I feel seen. Like, reallyseen.
But then he jogs to catch up with his teammates, and the moment is gone, the space where he stood filling with cold air again.
Breathe . . . just breathe. My heart refuses to slow down, like it’s trying to escape my chest and chase after him. He’s way off limits—someone Paige is interested in, which puts him out of my league. What am I talking about? It’s not even the same realm. Page inhabits a world of perfect hair and designer clothes, while I’m over here in the land of science puns and secondhand sneakers. Besides, guys like Theo don’t notice girlslike me except when they’re about to collide with them in the hallway, apparently.
I head outside where Stephanie has been waiting for me on the front steps. “Sorry it didn’t work out,” she says.
A shrug is all I can muster. “This year might be the worst one yet. I can feel it.”
She hooks her arm around mine, and we start down the sidewalk. “At least high school is closer to being over. Just this year and the next, and we’re done.”
“Small wins,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at the school I’m doomed to face for yet another year.
We chat about classes and teachers, and somehow, it almost feels okay. Stephanie has that effect on me. She brings a sense of calm to even the worst situations.
When we reach the intersection where we usually part ways, I turn to her. “I think I’m gonna go to the dance studio for a bit.”
“Practicing your choreography like Jungkook?” she teases, knowing full well BTS is my ultimate escape.
“Only dancing can help me feel better after a day like today. And nothing beats K-Pop.”
“I still don’t get your K-pop obsession,” Stephanie says. “I prefer Logan Humphries’ music.”
“You only like him because he’s from Maplewood Springs.”
Stephanie’s jaw drops like she’s mildly outraged. “No way. He is dreamy, and his voice is out of this world. His songs speak tome.”
“But can Logan do a butterfly kick while singing?” I counter.
“No, but he can play three instruments and wrote that song about ill-fated lovers.” She pulls me into a tight hug. “We’ll make it through, Chrissy. We always do.”
Fifteen minutes later, I arrive at the studio a few blocks from my house. This is where I go when everything seems to be the opposite of what I expected, and I need an hour to myself. If today has set the tone for the rest of the school year, I’m in trouble.
It’s just me and the music on the polished wooden floor—and the faint aroma of sweat from the yoga class prior. I toss my bag into the corner and stretch, feeling the stress of the day melt away. The beat of BTS’sSavage Lovetakes over my body, and I sway my hips, getting into a warmup rhythm.
Chapter 3
The sweet scent of mom’s blueberry pancakes drifts into my room as I tug a sweater two sizes too big over my head. It’s soft, faded navy with sleeves that swallow my hands—just how I like it.
Hiding in plain sight—that’s my motto, and I’ve got the wardrobe to match. No need to stand out, no need for attention. I keep my head down and blend in. Especially at school. Drawing attention to myself there? Disastrous. My fingers curl into the soft, worn fabric of my oversized sweater, finding comfort in its shapelessness. The thought of eyes turning my way, of whispers spreading through hallways like wildfire, sends a cold shiver down my back.
