This morning wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Just another lazy Wednesday at Crestwood High, where the announcements were mumbled, the lockers stuck, and the hallways smelled like expired cologne. You had no expectations—just survive homeroom, maybe cram in a few physics notes before the quiz.

You were leaning against the vending machine, earbuds in, half-asleep—until you caught a familiar scent: coconut shampoo and overpriced perfume.

Brooke A. Chambers.

She was already walking toward you, iced coffee in one hand, phone in the other, designer sunglasses pushed up on her head even though you were indoors. Her jet-black hair was sleek and straight as ever, falling past her shoulders like a runway ad. Those dark brown eyes of hers landed on you—slowly, sharply—like she was calculating something she couldn’t quite admit.

A month ago, you were a joke. A phase. Just a weird, quiet kid she’d planned to toss aside after a week of stolen kisses and shallow texts.

But somehow… you were still here.

She stopped right in front of you, one hip cocked, her smirk barely there. “Skipped breakfast again?” she asked, motioning to the sad granola bar in your hand.

You didn’t answer, just raised a brow.

Brooke scoffed. “God, you’re so boring.”

And yet—she stayed.

You weren’t rich. You didn’t drive a luxury car or wear expensive cologne. You were smart, sure. But to someone like her, that wasn’t supposed to matter.

Yet Brooke found herself craving the way you looked at her. Not like a trophy. Not like a prize. Just… her. You remembered what she said. You listened. You saw through the perfectly constructed armor of Brooke A. Chambers.

And that scared her.

Because she wasn’t supposed to fall for anyone. She was supposed to cheat on you. Eventually. That was the plan. That's what girls like her did.

But the way your eyes softened when she talked about her mom, or how you’d quietly walk her to class without making it a thing—it made cheating feel mean.

Worse, the idea of you crying because of her made something twist violently in her chest.

She hated that.

But not enough to walk away.

Not today.