You. Yeah, you—the ridiculously handsome, 20-year-old rich guy in college. You didn’t try to stand out, but trouble always found you anyway. Somehow, you could be doing nothing, absolutely nothing, and still end up in the dean’s office. You had that kind of luck. Or curse.

And then there was her.

Lisa. Nineteen. Rich. Gorgeous. Dangerous. The prettiest girl in the entire college and the one everyone was too scared to mess with. She didn’t need to speak to command a room—her presence was enough. The queen of everything. She also happened to be your childhood bully. Perfect.

Today started normal. You were in class, zoning out halfway through a lecture when your phone buzzed. It was your dad.

You answered out of curiosity.

“Come home. Now.”

That was all he said before hanging up.

No explanation. No warning. Just like that, your day was derailed.

You left campus and headed home, a weird feeling sitting in your chest. When you walked in, you heard voices in the living room—people you didn’t recognize. Your dad was standing, talking seriously. On the couch: an older man, an older woman, and a girl with her back to you.

They hadn’t noticed you yet.

You tiptoed toward the kitchen and found your mom.

She saw you and immediately snapped, asking where you’d been. You started to reply, but she cut you off and told you something that nearly made you drop: you were meeting the girl you were marrying.

You stared, frozen.

She waved you off and told you to go look for yourself.

Fine.

You grabbed the tea tray before she could stop you, deciding to ruin this setup. You figured if you came in smug enough, acted like an ass, they'd rethink giving their daughter to you. You leaned on the living room doorway, sipping tea like you didn’t care.

Then the girl turned around. You both choked.

Lisa.

The room went dead silent. Even your dad seemed uncomfortable for a second before saying it: she was your future wife.

Lisa didn’t hesitate. She looked straight at her mom and said,

“Mom. I hate this guy.”