Chapter 2
The girl who slid into the seat beside me had curly hair pulled into a high ponytail and wore a smile that looked like it had never met a stranger.
"Blake Nelson, right? I'm Emery Taylor. We're desk partners for the semester, which means we're basically legally required to be best friends now. I don't make the rules."
I blinked at her.
She didn't wait for a response. She just kept talking, pulling out her notebook and arranging her pens in a neat row while delivering what sounded like a wartime intelligence briefing.
"Okay, so here's what you need to know. Harlee Salazar—blonde girl, looks like she stepped out of a magazine, acts like she stepped out of a dictatorship—runs the social scene. Her crew sits at the center table in the cafeteria. Don't make eye contact unless you want problems. Lucien Montgomery is the golden boy. Literally everyone loves him. Teachers, students, probably the janitor. He's applying to Columbia early decision. And then there's Eren Black."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"Eren is... complicated. He's hot. Obviously. But also terrifying. He got suspended twice last year for fighting. Rides a motorcycle. Has two sidekicks who follow him everywhere. Jay's the loud one. Brady's the sweet one. And Harlee has been obsessed with Eren since sophomore year, which he completely ignores, which makes her even more obsessed. It's a whole thing."
I listened to every word. Catalogued it. Cross-referenced it against what I already knew.
Emery leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Also, I heard Harlee's crew talking in the bathroom this morning. They were saying something about 'teaching the new bitch a lesson.' I'm pretty sure they meant you. Just... be careful, okay?"
I looked at her. Really looked at her. She was worried. Genuinely worried. For me. A girl she'd known for approximately ninety seconds.
Something in my chest loosened.
"Thanks for the warning," I said quietly.
Emery grinned. "That's what best friends are for."
She launched into a story about Harlee's crew ambushing a girl in the parking lot last year, complete with hand gestures and sound effects. She was so animated, so ridiculously earnest, that I felt the corner of my mouth twitch.
Then I laughed.
It startled me. The sound came out unbidden, genuine, and I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like that. Not in this life. Not in the last one either.
Emery beamed like she'd just won something.
I reached into my pocket and touched the folded note from Grandma Margaret. The paper was soft under my fingers.
*Make it count.*
---
The next morning, I walked out of the apartment building and found Eren waiting at the curb.
He didn't say anything. Just handed me a helmet.
I climbed on.
It became a pattern. Every morning. No discussion. No formal agreement. He just showed up, and I got on the bike, and we rode through the congested LA streets in silence.
On the third morning, when we pulled into the Westridge Prep parking lot, Brady was waiting with a Tupperware container.
"Pre-calc exam today," he said, offering me a cookie. "Stress-baked last night. Chocolate chip."
I took one. It was still warm.
"Thanks, Brady."
He smiled. "Eren's never let anyone else on his bike. Just so you know."
Jay, leaning against the bike rack, made a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. His eyes were sharp on my face.
"Yeah," Jay said slowly. "Never."
I met his gaze. He was testing me. Measuring me. Trying to figure out what I wanted from Eren.
I didn't look away.
Eren cut between us, his shoulder brushing mine as he walked toward the main building. Jay and Brady followed.
I stood there for a moment, the cookie warm in my hand, and realized something unexpected.
I was looking forward to tomorrow morning's ride.
---
Lucien appeared beside my locker third period.
I saw him coming. I always saw him coming now.
"Blake, right?" He smiled. Warm. Approachable. Perfect. "I'm Lucien. We're both in AP History. I noticed you didn't have a notebook yesterday, so I grabbed a spare for you."
He held out a brand-new spiral notebook. The price tag was still on it.
I looked at it. Then at him.
"That's really thoughtful," I said evenly. "But I already have one. Thank you, though."
His smile didn't falter. "No problem. Hey, if you ever need help catching up on anything, I'm happy to walk you through the syllabus. Mrs. Chen can be kind of intense."
"I appreciate the offer. I'll be fine."
"You sure? I don't mind—"
"I'm sure."
The politeness in my voice was measured. Surgical. Just warm enough to avoid rudeness. Just cool enough to close the door.
Lucien's smile flickered.
Just for a second. Just long enough for the warmth to slip and something colder to surface behind his eyes.
Then he recovered.
"Well, if you change your mind, let me know." He turned and walked away, his posture easy, his gait unhurried.
I watched him go.
*There you are.*
I pulled out my phone, angled it carefully, and took a photo of his retreating back. Timestamp: 10:47 AM. Location: Third-floor hallway near the lockers.
Then I opened my evidence log and added the entry.
*Lucien Montgomery. Approached with unsolicited offer of assistance. Deflected politely. Observed micro-expression shift when declined—brief affect flattening, possible irritation. Recovered quickly. Monitoring for pattern escalation.*
I closed the app and slipped my phone back into my pocket.
The war had officially begun.
Chapter 3
The rumors started on a Thursday.
I heard them in fragments. Bathroom whispers. Hallway giggles. Emery told me what they were saying during third period, her voice low and furious.
"They're saying you threw yourself at Eren. That you're desperate. That you're using him to climb the social ladder."
I looked up from my notes. "Who's they?"
"Harlee's crew. Who else?"
I went back to writing. "Let them talk."
Emery stared at me. "You're not even mad?"
"Being mad doesn't help."
But I documented it. Date. Time. Names of the girls I'd overheard. The specific phrasing of the rumors. Everything went into the log.
The cafeteria freeze-out came next. I walked in with my tray and the center tables went silent. Harlee sat at the head like a queen holding court. She didn't look at me. She didn't have to. Her clique followed her lead. They turned their backs in perfect unison.
I sat with Emery by the window. She fumed the entire lunch period. I ate my sandwich and watched Harlee's table in my peripheral vision.
Harlee glanced over once. Our eyes met. She smiled.
I didn't.
---
The hallway confrontations were harder to ignore.
Shoulder-checks between classes. My books knocked to the floor by a passing elbow. A Diet Coke tipped onto my blouse, the girl who did it offering a bright, insincere apology.
I absorbed each incident without visible reaction. I picked up my books. I blotted the stain with paper towels in the bathroom. I kept my face neutral.
It was driving Harlee insane. I could see it in the way her smile tightened when I didn't flinch. In the way her voice got sharper when she talked to her crew.
She needed a reaction. I wasn't giving her one.
So she escalated.
---
The note appeared in my locker Friday afternoon.
*Rooftop. 4 PM. We need to talk. Just us. Girl to girl. —H*
I read it twice. Then I pulled out my phone and texted Detective Ramirez.
*Potential incident developing. Will update.*
Then I texted Emery.
*If I'm not back by 4:30, check the rooftop.*
She responded immediately. *WHAT??? Blake don't go!!!*
I slipped the phone into my pocket and headed upstairs.
---
The rooftop was empty when I arrived. Sunlight slanted across the concrete. The door clanged shut behind me.
Harlee stepped out from behind the air conditioning unit. She wasn't alone. Three girls flanked her. Sophia Crane. Two others whose names I didn't know.
My stomach tightened. I counted exits. One door. Locked from the inside.
"Thanks for coming," Harlee said. Her voice was sweet. Too sweet. "I thought we should clear the air."
I didn't move. "I'm listening."
She walked closer. Slow. Deliberate. Her crew fanned out behind her.
"You're new. So maybe you don't understand how things work here. Let me explain." She stopped three feet away. "Eren Black is off-limits. He's mine. He's always been mine. And you need to back off."
"I'm not interested in your territory," I said evenly.
"Really?" Harlee's smile sharpened. "Because it looks like you're riding his bike every morning. Sitting with his friends. Wearing his jacket."
"He offered. I accepted. That's all."
"That's all?" Harlee laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. "Girls like you always think you're special. That you're different. But you're not. You're just another nobody trying to climb."
She nodded. The three girls moved.
They grabbed me before I could react. Hands on my arms. My shoulders. Shoving me back against the concrete wall. My head hit hard. Stars burst across my vision.
Panic fired through my nervous system. The hands holding me became other hands. The rooftop became a basement. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't—
Harlee slapped me.
The crack echoed across the rooftop. My cheek burned.
"Know your place," Harlee hissed.
Something in me snapped.
Not strategy. Not calculation. Just rage. Deep and tectonic and older than this lifetime.
I twisted hard, broke the grip of the girl on my left, and drove my elbow into her ribs. She gasped and stumbled back. I shoved the second girl off-balance and lunged for the third.
We hit the ground together. I didn't fight clean. I didn't fight fair. I clawed and kicked and fought like I was still in that basement and this was my only chance.
Harlee screamed something. Sophia yanked me off the third girl by my hair. I spun and saw Harlee raise a metal water bottle high.
She aimed for my head.
The rooftop door exploded off its hinges.
Eren crossed the space in three strides. He grabbed Harlee by the collar and slammed her against the railing so hard the metal groaned.
Her crew scattered. Just ran. Sophia was the last to go, her face white.
Eren didn't raise his voice. That was the terrifying part.
"If you ever touch her again," he said, his voice laced with something cold and final, "I will make sure your family's money can't fix what I break. Do you understand me?"
Harlee nodded. Her hands shook.
He released her. She stumbled, caught herself, and ran.
The rooftop went silent.
I stood there, breathing hard, blood on my lip, knees scraped raw. My hair was wild. My hands were shaking.
Eren turned.
I looked up at him and smiled.
Not polite. Not defensive. Real. Bloody. Fierce.
He stared at me like I was something he had no category for. Then he shrugged off his leather jacket and dropped it over my shoulders without a word.
It was still warm from his body.
I pulled it close and kept smiling.