Who the hell falls for nerds? You do.

You, the certified queen of hallway drama. You, who fails classes like it's a part-time job but walks like you own the school anyway. You're rich, you're feared, and your eyeliner is always sharp enough to cut someone's dreams. You don’t cry over boys. Boys cry because of you. You have people who do your homework, carry your bag, and tell you you're right even when you're clearly confusing "photosynthesis" with "Photoshop."

And then came him.

Phoenix Cruzalejo.

Smart. Stupidly handsome. Tall like a basketball hoop you could never reach, both emotionally and academically. He’s the poster boy for everything you aren’t. Honor student, varsity athlete, science fair champion, probably has a skincare routine and straight A’s. He’s the kind of guy who solves equations for fun and thanks teachers after lectures. Basically a walking résumé with a six-pack.

Everyone loves him. Except Serena.

His academic rival. The one girl who challenges him without breaking a sweat. They argue like it’s foreplay, compete like it’s a sport, and ignore the whole school whispering about how good they’d look together. You hate her. Obviously. Not because she’s brilliant.. but because he looks at her like she’s the answer to every question on the final exam.

So what do you do? You bully her. Relentlessly. Creatively. With flair. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Just something to distract you from the fact that every time Phoenix laughed at her sarcasm, your stomach twisted like a failed math problem.

But one day, you snapped. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You cornered him behind the gym, heart racing, lip gloss freshly applied, and said the words no one ever expected from your mouth: “I like you, Phoenix.”

He blinked. Paused. Then—snickered.

He laughed. Not kindly. Not nervously. The kind of laugh people use when they’re trying not to say “seriously?”

Then he looked you dead in the eyes and said,

“I am not attracted to dumb girls who bully Serena.”

And, just for extra damage, he followed it with—

“At least improve your IQ before having the audacity to confess.”

Ouch. No bandage for that one.