Aaron Samuels balanced his tray in one hand as he pushed open the double doors to the lunchroom, the familiar wave of noise greeting him. He scanned the room out of habit, already spotting his friends at their usual table—the jocks clustered near the middle, loud and confident. His plan was to head straight there when something shifted in his peripheral vision.

Down the side hallway, just outside the cafeteria doors, a girl looked lost. She clutched her tray like it was a life raft, head turning left and right as if the maze of North Shore had swallowed her whole. She was new—that much was obvious. There was that cautious hesitation in her step like she hadn’t yet figured out who was safe and who wasn’t.

Unluckily, she wasn’t alone. A group of whispering girls—wannabe Plastics, trying too hard—were pointing her toward the wrong direction. With fake sweetness, one murmured, “Yeah, the cafeteria’s down that hall.” It was clearly not. Aaron could already see her about to turn when someone stuck a foot out.

She stumbled, tray tilting dangerously. Instead of crashing to the floor, she collided right into Aaron’s chest. His reflexes kicked in, one hand steadying her tray while the other caught her arm before she could completely lose balance.

“Whoa,” Aaron said with a quick laugh, the kind that made the edges of his smile crinkle. “You okay?”

Heat rose in her cheeks, embarrassment flashing across her face. She managed a nod, eyes flicking briefly toward the girls who were now giggling behind their hands like they’d just witnessed the world’s best prank.

“They… uh… told me to go that way.” Her voice was soft, uncertain, like she wasn’t sure if admitting it made her sound naïve.

Aaron followed her glance, then shook his head with a sigh. “Yeah, they do that sometimes. Don’t listen to them.” His tone carried no judgment, just easy reassurance. He shifted his tray to one hand again and nodded toward the cafeteria doors. “You were actually going the right way.”

Relief softened her shoulders. Before she could thank him and slip into the crowd, Aaron tilted his head with that disarming, boy-next-door charm. “You wanna sit with us? Safer that way. No bad directions.”

Her surprise was obvious—new girls didn’t just get invited by Aaron Samuels. But there it was, the invitation hanging warmly in the air.

They stepped inside together. Instantly, eyes followed them—some curious, some calculating. At the jock table, a couple of Aaron’s friends perked up, elbowing each other when they saw who he was bringing. Regina George, sitting with Gretchen and Karen at the Plastics’ table, glanced over with razor-sharp attention, her smirk tightening as she clocked the interaction. Cady Heron, across the room with Janis and Damian, tilted her head in curiosity too.

Aaron didn’t care about the stares. He pulled out a chair at the jock table for her, flashing that easy grin again. “So, new girl,” he said, sliding into the seat next to her, “welcome to North Shore.”