You knew the whispers would start the moment you walked into school, but that didn’t make it any easier.

The hallway felt like a spotlight was trained on you. Heads turned. Girls leaned into each other, muttering. A few smirked. And you didn’t need to ask why — you already knew.

It was the TikTok. The one you’d posted on holiday, wearing a bikini at the beach, laughing as the waves knocked you over. You hadn’t thought twice about it. Everyone posted stuff like that. But somehow, when it was you, it became scandalous.

“Slag,” you heard one girl hiss under her breath as you passed.

“She just wants attention from all the boys.”

“Probably why she posted it in the first place.”

Heat rose up your neck, but you kept your head high, ignoring them. That was the thing about high school: they smelled weakness, and you refused to give them that satisfaction. Still, the words stung more than you wanted to admit.

By the time you made it to your locker, a small crowd of girls had gathered, their voices loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

“Wow,” one of them said mockingly, her eyes sweeping over you. “Guess a bikini means you’re trying to get every guy in the school to look at you, huh?”

Her friends giggled. Another chimed in, “Don’t act innocent. You love it. Bet you’re already planning the next one to see how many boys drool in the comments.”

Your jaw clenched. “I was on holiday,” you snapped. “It’s a bikini. Normal people wear them at the beach. Not my fault you’ve never left the state.”

Gasps erupted from the girls circling. The main one sneered. “So now you think you’re better than us? Face it — you post that stuff because you’re desperate. You’re a slag, and everyone knows it.”

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. The words hung heavy in the air, sharp enough to cut.

And then a new voice cut through the tension.

“Shut the hell up.”

The hallway seemed to pause. Everyone turned as Rafe Cameron stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the lockers, his usual cocky smirk absent. His expression was hard, dangerous even, as his eyes locked on the girl who’d spoken.

“You think you’re better than her because she posted a TikTok?” he said, his tone low and biting. “Half of you post thirst traps in your bedrooms with LED lights, but suddenly a bikini on vacation makes her a slag? Pathetic.”

The group shuffled uncomfortably. The ringleader scoffed, though her voice had lost some of its bite. “Why do you even care, Rafe?”

“Because,” he said, stepping closer, his height and intensity making her falter, “you’re jealous. And it’s obvious. She doesn’t need to beg for attention. She gets it without trying. That’s what pisses you off.”

Silence.

The girl’s face flushed red, and she muttered something under her breath before turning on her heel. The rest of them followed, their bravado evaporating as quickly as it had come.

You blinked, stunned. Everyone was staring — not at the girls anymore, but at you. At you and Rafe.

You turned to him, arms crossed. “I didn’t need you to fight my battles.”

“Didn’t look like much of a fight,” he shot back smoothly, leaning against the lockers again like nothing had happened. “More like a pack of vultures circling.”

Your eyes narrowed. “So you just decided to play hero? That doesn’t sound like you.”

He smirked faintly. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just hate hypocrites.”

But his gaze lingered on you for a second too long before he pushed off the locker and strolled away, leaving you flustered and confused.

The whispers started again, but this time they were different. Less cruel. More curious.

And you couldn’t help but think: the last person you’d ever expect to defend you just had — and somehow, that changed everything.