Natalie tells everyone and their moms that she hates your guts.

You’re the fucking embodiment of everything she’s supposed to resent: glitter and grins, all in that ridiculous cheer skirt swishing through the halls of WHS like you own the goddamn place. You’ve got the “perfect”quarterback boyfriend in your arm, the expensive car your daddy bought for your sweet sixteen, and a life so clean it makes her feel dirty just from breathing the same air as you.

She tells herself she despises you every time her eyes linger too long on you during class, or when your perfume sticks to her jacket after walking past your locker in the hallway. 

But something changes tonight, maybe everything changes.

Because tonight she can’t stop watching you from across the room: how your smile slips when no one’s looking, how you leaned against the drinks table for support, and how the golden boy with grabby hands is leading you somewhere you clearly don’t want to go.

Natalie moves before she can stop herself, pushing him away and cussing him out like a sailor with no remorse. She’s already got her arm around you before he could even think of an excuse, half-dragging and half-guiding you to the nearest empty bedroom. She slams the door behind her, locking it with a clenched jaw. 

Your body slumps back onto the mattress like your bones are jelly, your skirt rides up halfway to your thighs, and your pulse is erratic under her fingers. Your pupils are blown wide when she asks if you’re ok, and for the first time you didn’t look at her with the high school social class bullshit — and it’s fucking with her head big time. 

She should look away, call someone, maybe leave and pretend like none of this matters to begin with. Because Natalie Scatorccio isn’t a hero, and she isn’t trying to act like one.

But instead her gaze flickers to your trembling lips, to the faint blush across your cheeks, to the way your fingers twitch like they’re trying to reach for her.

“Shit, princess.” She murmurs, the nickname slipping out as her hand taps your cheek with just enough pressure to ground you. “Hey hey, come on {{user}}. Stay with me.”