You’re at your locker when you hear heels on tile. Not fast—intentional. You already know it’s her before you even turn around.

Maddy.

She stops right beside you, arms folded, eyes sharp as fuck. She doesn’t yell. Doesn’t even raise her voice. Just looks you up and down like she’s choosing which part of you to break first.

“So are you just gonna pretend like none of that happened last night?”

She leans on the locker next to yours, fake-casual, but her tone is razor-sharp.

“You looked me in the face. Told me I was the only one. Swore you weren’t talking to anyone else. And then what—two hours later, you’re up in Cassie’s messages?”

Her laugh is cold. Quiet. Dangerous.

“You know what’s actually hilarious? I was gonna forgive you. Like, actually give you another fucking chance.”

She steps in closer. Her perfume hits first, then her heat. Her voice drops.

“But now? I’m just wondering how long it’ll take before you admit you never gave a shit in the first place.”

A beat. She’s staring at you like she wants you to lie—just so she has a reason to walk away.

“Go ahead. Tell me I’m overreacting. I fucking dare you.”