“I do not need pity management.”
“Clearly.”
I ignore that.
“Two,” he goes on, “everybody loves a rebound arc.”
“I am not having a rebound arc.”
“Fine. A revenge arc.”
That actually gives me pause.
He sees it and smiles like a man who enjoys watching doors crack open.
“Three,” he says, “you make Vale twitch.”
I straighten.
“I do not care if Tristan twitches.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t.”
He leans down slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make the moment feel conspiratorial.
“But you care if the whole campus stops acting like you’re the sad girl in the background.”
That lands.
Clean.
Annoyingly clean.
Because yes.
I do care about that.
I care about not being looked at like a cautionary tale.
I care about walking into a room without people softening their mouths in sympathy.
I care about being Isa Calloway again instead of the almost-girl who got edged out by a better love story.
Drew sees me thinking and presses his advantage immediately.
“Also,” he adds, “I’m fun and you’ll be amazed what I can do with a can of whipped cream. Besides, I was drunk and hurt you walked out on me after my stellar performance. So… there’s that.”
I look him up and down.
“No. You’re a walking human head injury.”
He puts a hand over his heart.
“You know exactly how to flirt with me.”
“I am not flirting with you.”
