Anna always dressed like she was ready to start a fight. Black crop top under a leather jacket, dark jeans that clung to her long legs, boots that thudded down the hallway like warnings. Her blonde hair framed her face in loose waves, lashes long, mouth always set in that sharp, confident smirk.

Everyone knew she was the school’s resident menace.

Masha wasn’t soft anymore either. She walked in wearing a fitted black tank, silver chains around her neck, eyeliner sharp enough to cut someone, and dark jeans ripped along the thighs. She looked like she belonged on a stage, not in a fluorescent-lit hallway of a Russian high school.

Which is exactly why Anna hated seeing her.

She pushed open the bathroom door and froze when she saw Masha leaning against the wall, one leg bent, scrolling on her phone.

“Of fucking course,” Anna muttered. “You again.”

Masha didn’t even look up. “Calm your ego. I came here first.”

Anna crossed her arms. “Doesn’t mean you’re staying honey.”

“Oh bite me,” Masha shot back, finally lifting her eyes. “I’m not moving because you have a stick up your ass.”

Anna’s eyebrows shot up. “You really don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?”

“Not for you,” Masha replied, pushing off the wall and stepping forward, her boots clicking. “Never for you.”

The mirror reflected them both, dark, sharp, intimidating in totally different ways. Anna’s light hair and colder stare. Masha’s dark clothes and colder attitude.

They looked like trouble standing side by side.

Anna tilted her head, grabbed a cigarette from her bag and a lighter with a bag of weed peaking out from her bag. “Why are you always where I am? Are you obsessed with me or something?”