Amy was full-on scolding me the second she walked through the classroom door.
"Are you freaking kidding me?!" she snapped, yanking both sides of my cheeks like she was trying to rip my face open. It hurt like hell.
"I'm... so... wie…" I tried to say, but it came out in painful, muffled gasps.
She let go and slapped her own forehead, clearly regretting every decision that had led her to be my friend. "You are unbelievable. Seriously, what was the point of me helping you if you were just gonna go rogue the second I turn my back?"
"I couldn't help it," I mumbled.
She clapped both cheeks again, making me look like a human blowfish. "Lucas, you drive me nuts, but I get it. Just—don't do anything stupid again, okay?"
I nodded like a scolded puppy.
Then I remembered something... unfortunate.
"Um… does that include stalking his Instagram page?" I asked. "Because I may have—kinda—accidentally liked a shirtless mirror pic from, like, four months ago."
Amy blinked. Once. Twice.
"WHAAAAAT?!"
She grabbed my collar and shook me like a snow globe. "What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. You?!"
"I'm… so… wie…" I tried again, weakly.
She finally let go, yanked my phone from my hands, and scrolled with the speed of a vengeful demon. She found the post in under ten seconds.
There it was. A heart. Right there on Blake Parker's shirtless mirror selfie. I could feel myself shrivel inside.
Amy stared at it for another second before tossing my phone back like it burned her. "Yeah… there's literally nothing I can do for you now. You're on your own."
Students were filing into the room, loud and laughing, completely oblivious to the panic setting in my bones. The bell hadn't rung yet, but I already felt like I was in detention.
For the record, I did try to avoid this mess. I came to school early just to dodge Amy on the bus. Thought I could escape her fury.
She showed up earlier.
Figures.
She'd texted me the night before while she was getting a mani-pedi, and after I gave her the full play-by-play of what happened after school—including the walk, the bracelet, and the goddamn ice cream—her response was bold, all-caps, and terrifying:
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
Now here we were.
Class finally began. I glanced over to Blake's usual spot where his crew was already sitting—same loud voices, same dumb jokes—but no Blake.
Where the hell was he?
Panic hit fast.
What if he found out I liked him and decided to switch schools? What if he fell off a bridge or something? Got kidnapped? What if it was somehow my fault?
Before my brain could spiral any further, the door creaked open.
"Sorry I'm late," Blake said casually, walking in with his hands in his pockets. The teacher opened her mouth, but Blake whipped out a hall pass like it was a damn Uno reverse card.
The teacher just sucked her teeth and went back to whatever equation she was rambling about.
Blake made his way to his seat, but not before looking right at me.
A full second. Maybe two.
Amy leaned in and whispered, "What the actual fuck."
I stared at my desk, cheeks heating up like I'd been caught doing something illegal. He noticed me. One step forward. Progress?
Amy jabbed a finger into my ribs, dragging me back to reality. "Ouch!" I hissed.
"What the hell did I miss yesterday?" she whispered.
Before I could even begin to explain, all the warm fuzzy feelings shattered into glass.
Because Sonia—goddamn Sonia—was suddenly hanging off Blake's arm again like some designer accessory. And worse? He didn't push her away.
I felt physically ill.
"I really need to get rid of that girl," I muttered through clenched teeth.
Amy gasped. "Whoa. Leave the murder talk to me, Denacii." She hugged my head like I was a baby bird. "You just focus on being a pretty nerd." She ran her fingers through my hair like I was her human stress ball.
But class? Class was a nightmare.
I couldn't tell if Blake was doing it on purpose or if the universe just hated me. Maybe both. At one point, he pulled Sonia in by the chin and kissed her—and the entire time, his eyes were on me.
I felt like I was going to combust.
Was he teasing me?
Or was this some twisted form of seduction?
Neither of them heard a single word the teacher said. Not one.
Blake didn't need to—his future was already laid out for him. Football scholarship, bright lights, big games. And Sonia? I honestly don't even know if she could spell "future."
Could they at least pretend to pay attention?
And why wasn't the teacher saying anything?!
I was about one more public make-out session away from throwing myself into the nearest trash bin.
God, I needed air. Or a new school. Or maybe just a break.
I didn't expect Einstein to say anything, really, but the moment he made that snide comment about Blake and Sonia being a "Wattpad fever dream," I nearly choked on my own breath. I looked over in time to see Sonia flash her claws—okay, not literal claws, but close enough—and rake the back of Einstein's neck.
"OW! What the hell?!" he shrieked, slapping a hand behind him.
The whole class winced. Except Sonia, who just calmly returned to leaning on Blake like nothing had happened. Our teacher looked exhausted by life, rubbed his temples, and gave the world's most half-hearted warning. "Let's keep our hands to ourselves, people."
Einstein mumbled an apology, but I had no clue who it was for—Sonia? The teacher? Himself? His head was bowed, hand still at the back of his neck, voice all shaky and wounded. That shit must've really hurt.
There was no doubt about it now: Sonia Williams was some kind of modern witch. Like Sabrina, but without the charm or the fun talking cat.
I raised my hand, hoping I could be excused before my soul finished shriveling into nothingness. It wasn't even about Blake. Well, it was. Okay fine—it was definitely about Blake. And Sonia. Mostly Sonia. That girl was like a bad rash—just everywhere, all over the guy I couldn't stop obsessing over. I needed a break. Or a therapist. Or a time machine.
I got my hall pass and practically ran to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, stared at my reflection, and tried to talk myself down from a public breakdown.
"Get a grip, Lucas. You're fine. This is fine. Just pretend like the last twenty minutes didn't happen and maybe you'll survive third period."
I leaned forward, about to whisper some kind of sad mantra to myself, when I noticed a figure behind me in the mirror.
I turned fast.
Blake.
Standing at the entrance. Leaning against the doorframe with both hands in his pockets like we were in a teen drama and he was the misunderstood heartthrob about to say something cryptic.
"Hey," he said.
I swallowed. "Um... hey. I was just, you know... heading back to class." I laughed like someone who's definitely hiding a crime scene. Then I made the fatal mistake of trying to walk past him.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
"Hey!" I yelped.
He smirked. "Lucas Denacii... was it? Cool last name."
Wait. What? I hadn't told him that. Had he remembered me? From when we were kids?
"How did you—?"
"I know your type," he cut me off, voice suddenly sharp. "You're all really cute and cool on the surface, but deep down? You're disgusting."
The words hit like a slap. I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. "What the hell are you—"
"You fucking stalker," he laughed, and the sound made my skin crawl.
My throat closed up. No way. No way he knew. No one was supposed to know.
"What?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He let go of me and straightened his shirt like he hadn't just crushed my insides into pulp. "You weren't exactly subtle. The cheer squad talks, you know. The whole school's probably in on it by now. Just so we're clear—I don't do guys. So I don't know what the hell you're hoping to get out of this."
I felt the tears rising before I could stop them. My hands clenched into fists. So this was it. This was the moment. Humiliation, live and unfiltered. But instead of shrinking back, something in me snapped.
"Yeah? Well, I like you. So what?" I shot back, my voice trembling with fury. "It's not like I was hurting you. Not like I could do any more damage than your girlfriend already has."
That got his attention.
"What did you say?" he growled.
My chest was heaving. I was scared—no, I was terrified—but I couldn't stop now. "You didn't know? Sonia's probably hooked up with half the football team by now. Maybe even Coach." I had no evidence, just rage and reckless abandon.
His face twisted with fury, and for a second I thought he was going to punch me. His fists tightened and he stepped forward—
—and then something incredible happened.
Hands shot out from behind him, gripped his shoulders, and yanked him off the ground like a rag doll. Next thing I knew, Blake was flying. Literally airborne.
German suplex.
He hit the floor with a dull thud that echoed in the tiles.
I stared, mouth open, and saw the impossible.
"Amy?!"
She stood over Blake's groaning body, dusting her hands like she just took out the trash. "I swear," she muttered, "the things I do for you."
I ran to her and clung to her like a lifeline, full-on crying now.
"How the hell did you know?!"
She smirked, brushing my hair from my forehead. "My Lucas-in-trouble radar went off the charts. Then I saw Blake slinking off in your direction and figured I should crash the party."
"You okay?" she asked gently.
"Yeah," I sniffled. "But um... Amy? This is the guys' bathroom."
She grinned. "Like that was gonna stop me."
God, I loved her so much. Sometimes, it honestly felt like I didn't deserve her.