Chapter 1
Sam
EverytimeIwalkthe halls of Eastern High, I remind myself this place is just a stepping stone.I turned eighteen at the start of the school year.I keep my grades high, my dreams higher, and my mouth shut when the whispers follow me down the corridor.
“Virgin tease.”
I hear it every time.Nicole doesn’t bother whispering it anymore.
I shift my books higher in my arms and keep walking, my boots clicking against the tiles.They’re scuffed and beaten-up, nothing like her designer knock-offs.She’s got another sucker on her arm today.Some junior with hopeful eyes and a hard-on.
She leans in with fake sweetness, her eyes fixed on him as if he’s the only one that matters.But she’s already scanning the hallway for someone better, someone bigger, someone who will give her the attention she truly desires.
That’s Nicole’s game.
When she’s not turning it on for the boys, she turns it on me.The second their attention drifts or someone prettier walks past, she sharpens her voice and points it at my throat.Petty digs in the hallway.Backhanded compliments that sound sweet until you actually listen.Snide laughs shared with whichever girl is standing closest, always just loud enough to be heard.She doesn’t need a spotlight to feel powerful—she only needs someone to burn.And for as long as I can remember, I’ve been her favorite.
Red hair means fire crotch.Not having a boyfriend means something must be wrong with me.Talk to a guy and I’m a tease.Don’t sleep with him and I’m a prude.
It doesn’t matter what I do.They’ve already made up their minds.And there’s no version of me that ever comes out clean.
I turn the corner, and my stomach twists—just like it always does when he’s around.
Reece Wilson is pressed against some girl at his locker.Her back is arched, lips parted, and his hand sits low enough on her waist to make it clear he’ll get whatever he wants.His grin is lazy and dangerous, the kind that makes a girl forget her own name.He doesn’t care who’s watching.He never does.He’s one of Noah’s boys, and around here, that makes him untouchable.Rules don’t apply to them.Hearts aren’t off-limits.And Reece?He breaks both without flinching.
I hate that I notice the way his fingers graze her hip, slow and possessive.I hate that he leans in, lips brushing her ear, not kissing her but close enough to make her legs go weak.
And above all, I hate that he catches me staring.
His eyes lock onto mine.Blue.Sharp.Full of heat he never even tries to hide.
He smirks, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Hey, Red,” he calls out, loud enough to make heads turn.
Nicole’s laugh pierces the hallway, shrill and fake—her way of pulling the spotlight back onto herself.It’s always the same game with that bitch.
I roll my eyes at the sound of his voice and pick up my pace.My cheeks burn.
Reece Wilson will never get under my skin.
Not again.
Jace, the asshole next to him, leans against the wall like he’s God’s gift to women.His mouth is already moving. “Looks like your little ginger’s got it bad.”
Reece doesn’t look at him.He lets out a rough laugh, the kind that gets under your skin.“She wishes.”
I don’t give them the satisfaction of reacting.That’s the rule.If you flinch, they win.So I keep my face blank, shoulder-check the nearest doorway, and slip into class without a backward glance.My heart’s doing its usual traitor routine—too fast, too loud—but I pretend it’s just the caffeine.
Reece Wilson is chaos in ripped jeans and last year’s sneakers.He’s all crooked smiles and fuck-me eyes, the kind of boy who can ruin you with a look and never lose sleep over it.He doesn’t keep trophies.He flirts, he conquers, he forgets.And somehow, every time he glances my way, I’m the one left standing in the wreckage.
Every single time.
They all think I’m immune.
Liz with her color-coded calendars.Lola with her snack stash and her laugh that echoes through walls.And Aubrey, so in love she floats when Noah’s near.
They look at me and see control, poise, and intelligence before boys—red hair and rolled eyes.They think I don’t care.
