a wrecking ball.
“Move, Queen Bitch and follower.” Naomi throws her usual remark at me.
Lucy stops talking abruptly, her mouth hanging at an awkward angle.
I step in front of Naomi, blocking her path. “That’s enough.”
With our height difference, she has to look up at me, but that doesn’t erase the malice in her rich brown eyes. “What? No fake apologies this time?”
“If you thought that apology was fake then suit yourself, Naomi.” I cross my arms over my chest. “As much as you like calling us bitches, you’re no different. Lucy has done nothing wrong and doesn’t deserve all these attacks.”
“It’s okay.” Lucy touches my arm, bowing her head.
“It’s not.” I push her in front of Naomi. “If you were Lucy’s best friend, you would know how much your treatment hurts her.”
“What do you know about hurt?” Naomi’s voice is calm considering the seething expression on her face. “What do you know about suffering when you’re all high and mighty?”
“Just stop, Nao,” Lucy pleads, voice choking. “This isn’t you.”
“Yes, it is. You were just too busy following orders to notice it.”
A black Tesla stops right beside us with a screech. Naomi tenses and attempts to dash toward campus. The driver’s door opens, blocking her escape route.
Sebastian steps out, looking dashing in his football jacket, a messenger bag slung over his shoulders.
“Move out of the way, asshole.” She tries to bypass him but doesn’t raise her head.
“Was that a bee buzzing?” He strains his neck with mockery, not looking at her either.
“Move before I sting you.” Her face heats with exertion.
“That would involve you getting near me, and we both know that’s not going to happen, tsundere.”
Naomi’s face reddens. I can feel her rage coming off in waves. Her mouth opens and closes as if she wants to say something, but no words come out.
“Stop it.” I pull Sebastian by the sleeve of his jacket.
Naomi takes the chance to jog toward the school building.
“You can run but you can’t hide, tsundere,” he calls after her.
“What does that mean?” I ask him.
He stares down at me as if just noticing my existence. “Since when do you care?”
Ugh. Okay, I get it. I was an uncaring, selfish little shit. But come on, why can’t everyone stop shoving it in my face? Iʼm really trying here.
“Reina has changed.” Lucy steps beside me, puffing her chest forward.
Thank you, Santa, for sending me a gift wrapped in the form of Lucy. Oh, and screw you, Old Reina, for not appreciating this girl.
Sebastian watches me in that suspicious way that’s become everyone’s MO around me.
The intrusiveness of his gaze reminds me of Asher and the death glares he’s been giving me lately.
No matter how much I try to avoid his existence, a part of me always gravitates toward him.
“Prove it,” Sebastian says firmly.
“Prove what?” I ask.
“That you’ve changed.”
I’m tempted to flip him off, but that’s not how redemption works. The best way to prove oneself is to give, not take, which means I have to focus on Sebastian’s weaknesses and make them better.
My mind works around what I’ve learned about Sebastian so far—which isn’t much. Since he’s Asher’s friend, getting close to him means circulating in Asher’s orbit.
No, thanks.
But, oh well—if what I have in my mind works then it’s worth a shot.
I raise an eyebrow. “Youʼre failing psychology.”
“What does that have to do with proving you’ve changed?”
“If you fail this semester, the coach will bench you and you might lose your chance to go pro.”
His jaw works. “If there’s a point behind all this, you should reach it now.”
“I will help you nail psychology.”
Not only am I the captain of the cheerleading team, but I’m also a straight-A student. Studying makes way more sense to me than the black and white cheerleading uniform I still haven’t mustered the courage to wear.
“You lost your memory,” he argues.
“I still got a perfect score on the practice test last week.” I lift my shoulder. “I guess genius can’t be wiped away, huh?”
Lucy smiles, shouting, “Hell yeah! She’s an amazing tutor, by the way. She helped me ace Debate the other day.”
“Thank you.” I face Sebastian. “So what’s it gonna be? My offer has an expiration date in about…” I stare at my watch. “Ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven—”
“Fine. Jesus, it’s like you had a personality transplant.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Lucy, Sebastian, and I part ways inside since we have different classes.
I say good morning to anyone who greets me, and much to my dismay, it still shocks some students,