From the second he walked in, his shirt collar rumpled, his blazer conspicuously missing and his black hair left to grow out to a length the teachers would deem “distracting” or “unruly,” he’d become the Number One Trending Topic on campus. Most of my classmates are as scared of him as they are fascinated by him.
Even now, standing in the restaurant, he appears not just intimidating, but actually dangerous—something about the severe cut of his jaw, the hollowed-out look to his cheekbones, the dark brows angled over his pitch-black eyes. In the weeks since school started, I haven’t seen him smile once, not even when people are speaking to him. Everything about him is sharp and unyielding, like he’s prepared to enter a knife fight.
For a moment, his gaze swings to me.
I deliberately hold it and lift my hand in a casual wave, waiting for him to acknowledge me. It’s not as if we’ve ever really spoken to each other before, but it’s what any guy from school would do: wave back, grin, invite me over. They’d be eager to make our acquaintance known, to come closer. And honestly, I wouldn’t mind coming closer to Ares. He’s more than attractive enough, even by my standards, and I still haven’t finalized my prom date. Based on all the buzz around him, he could be averyvaluable asset in my campaign—I simply need him to make a move.
But Ares stays right where he is, expression unchanged, and turns his head away, as if my presence is of zero importance to him.
I blink again, this time in disbelief, heat rushing to my cheeks. There’s no way he just chose toignoreme—
“He’s over there,” Haili says on a shaky breath, yanking my attention to the table at the back.
I force myself to focus, forget Ares, and crane my neck for a better view. I only know her guy through photos, all preselected by Haili and shown to me while she explained sheepishly and insistently that he lookedwaybetter in person.
As expected, he does not look better in person.
He looks like the kind of guy I’d go out of my way to avoid at a club. The overwaxed hair—so shiny I can see it glinting like a beetle shell even before I start marching my way over—isn’t helping, but it could be forgiven, if he didn’t have his arm around the girl beside him. They’re laughing together, practically falling into each other’s laps, and just when I didn’t think the evidence could be any more damning, he plucks the cherry off one of the mini cupcakes on his plate and feeds it to her.
Bile threatens to creep its way back up my throat. This feels far too familiar.
“Okay, I’m going to kill him,” I decide, my stomach twisting with outrage on my friend’s behalf. “Thatasshole.”
“I... can’t believe it,” Haili whispers. “I—I can’t believe he’s actually...”
“Unfortunately, I very much can believe it,” I say darkly. “Look, you stay here—I’ll handle it for you.”
“Can you?” She grips my arm tight, like she might lose her balance otherwise. “Are you... are you going to splash water on him or something?”
“No. Water dries. Humiliation lasts much longer.”
And with that, I march straight over to their table, my hands curled into fists.
Yaozu jerks his head up, his fingers still stained red with cherry juice, and scowls at me, like I must have accidentally lost my way around the restaurant, before he focuses on my face. His mouth goes slack, a familiar, mesmerized look that would be satisfying if it weren’t coming from a piece of total trash. “Have I met you somewhere before?” he asks, his attention shifting away completely from the girl sitting right next to him.
“Are you fuckingserious,Yaozu?” I hiss, letting all my disgust and rage spill into my performance. “Where’s the ball?”
His features freeze into an expression of comical confusion. “Huh?”
“I said, where’s the fuckingbasketball? You told me you were playingbasketballwith yourbrostonight.” I jab my thumb toward the girl. “How long have you been sneaking around with her behind my back?”
The girl pushes away from him. “Who is she?” she asks sharply. “You already have a girlfriend?”
“I—I don’t know,” he splutters.
She glares at him. “You don’t know if you have a girlfriend or not?”
“No, that’s not what I—I don’t know who she is—”
“Oh, right, sure you don’t,” I scoff. “I actually should’ve figured you were an asshole ages ago. I mean, I rented out your favorite restaurant and invited all your friends just to surprise you for your birthday, and you couldn’t be bothered to see me inperson on my birthday because you justhadto see some emerging indie artist called Pipplo perform live in Shanghai, and you know what? I saw his sets after, and he couldn’t even keep up with his own backing track.” The words flow easily from me, unscripted and unrehearsed. Maybe a little too easily. Because even as I’m speaking, it’s my mom’s voice I hear ringing inside my head, bitter and betrayed and broken, every argument she and my father waged against each other after the truth came out.
“What are youtalkingabout?” Yaozu demands, his brows scrunching up in bewilderment. He whips around to face the girl, hands half raised above his head like her gaze is a gun, pointed right at him. “I—I don’t listen to anyone named Pipplo, I swear! I’ve never heard that name before!”
“You said you’d pick me up from the restaurant, but then you got sidetracked playing video games,” I talk over him, really on a roll now. “You said you’d introduce me to all your friends from your old school, but every time I ask about it, it’s like they vanish into thin air. You said you wanted to travel to Italy with me, but suddenly you can’t afford plane tickets or your schedule’s too full or you’re concerned the weather won’t be warm enough or you need more time to buy a bigger suitcase. You said youwantedme.”
“I have no idea who you are,” Yaozu insists, red in the face, and turns again to the girl, repeats with urgency, “I literally have no idea who she is.”
“Yeah, sure.” The girl grabs her black leather clutch and lurches onto her feet, her lower lip curling. “Feel free to delete me on WeChat.”
