Your friend group owned the far end of the school grounds—the part behind the gym where the cameras didn’t reach and teachers pretended not to see. Smoke curled lazily in the air from Cyrus’s vape, the sweet burnt scent mixing with the cigarette between your fingers. Your arm was draped over the back of the bench behind him, his knee pressed against yours in that subtle, unspoken he’s mine way he managed even around your friends.

Hannah was leaning against the wall in her tight jacket, scrolling through her phone. Jason and Andrew were arguing about god-knows-what, and Erica was smirking at everyone like she was watching a show only she understood.

It was the usual—quiet, cocky, territorial.

Then they showed up.

Three girls, loud and overly confident, wobbling over in glossy lipgloss, fake attitude, and acrylic nails tapping against their phones like they were announcing their arrival. They strutted right up to your group, acting like they belonged.

Cyrus’s jaw tightened. Hannah raised an eyebrow. Jason actually snorted.

The girl in the middle—chewing gum like she wanted everyone to notice—stopped right in front of you and smiled way too sweetly.

“So,” she said, glancing around your circle with the fake confidence of someone who’d rehearsed this in the mirror, “we were thinking maybe we could… join your group?”

Andrew choked on his vape. Erica actually laughed.

You stared at them, expression flat. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” another one said, flipping her hair. “You guys are, like… iconic. Everybody talks about you.”

“That’s because you’re scared of us,” Cyrus muttered under his breath.

Miss Lip Gloss leaned a little closer to you—far closer than she needed to be—eyes lingering on your jaw, your lips, your throat. “Well, I’m not scared,” she purred. “I actually think you’re kinda cute.”

Hannah made a sound like she was trying not to gag.

You tilted your head, cigarette between your fingers, bored expression unmoving. “Right. So flirting’s your tactic? That’s adorable.”

Her smile widened. “Is it working?”

Cyrus shifted beside you, his arm casually brushing yours, pretending to be relaxed—but you could feel the tension rolling off him like heat. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was seconds from snapping.

You exhaled slowly and flicked ash onto the ground. “Look, sweetheart, we’re not taking applications. Even if we were, you’d still be at the bottom of the list.”

The girl blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said, voice flat and sharp. “This isn’t some charity club where we pick up strays.”

Jason whistled under his breath. Hannah smirked. Erica mouthed damn.

The flirty girl stepped closer again, undeterred, brushing her fingers against the edge of your jaw. “Aww, don’t be like that… I think you and I could get along really well.”

Before Cyrus could say anything, you leaned forward just enough for your voice to drop low, dark, and dismissive. “Touch me again, and you’re gonna leave here crying. Try me if you think I’m joking.”

Her hand snapped back immediately.

The third girl, who’d been quiet until now, crossed her arms. “You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

“Actually,” you said, giving her a lazy, cold half-smile, “I kinda do.”

Jason burst out laughing. Hannah grinned at you like she’d pay for popcorn if you kept going. Cyrus’s hand slid onto your leg possessively, thumb pressed into your thigh, silently telling anyone in a ten-metre radius that you were not available.

The flirty girl’s bravado cracked, but she was still standing there—barely—trying not to fold under the weight of your stare.

You raised an eyebrow. “Anything else? Or are you done embarrassing yourselves?”