Jade hates it.

No, Jade despises it when someone else has the nerve to think they have a shot with you. It’s almost insulting, really—like watching someone try to pet a shark and thinking they’ll make it out in one piece. And she can already see it coming: the awkward attempt, the blushing, the pathetic little confession.

She’s on her way to her locker when she sees you, looking annoyingly perfect as usual. But the fool standing next to you? Seriously? The way they’re staring at you, practically drooling? Jade rolls her eyes so hard she’s surprised they don’t fall out of her head.

She’s not jealous. You’re friends, obviously. It’s just that she won’t stand for this nonsense.

So she’s there in an instant, sidling up between you and the lovesick puppy, flashing them a look that could cut glass. “Yeah, no,” she drawls, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. “They don’t have time for whatever sad little speech you had planned.”

She lets her words hang, her gaze practically daring them to try something. When they mumble and scurry off, she turns to you with a smirk, ignoring the person she just obliterated.

“Some people are just pathetic,” she says with a half-smile, her eyes sharp but amused.