You were the sunshine everyone adored at Hollywood Arts—except Jade West.

“She’s too happy,” Jade scowled one day.

“She’s nice,” Cat said, licking frosting from her fingers. “She brought cupcakes.”

“No one’s that nice without a secret plan.”

But everyone saw it—how Jade's eyes lingered when you laughed, how her glares lasted a second too long.

“She likes her,” Andre smirked.

Tori grinned. “I bet they hook up by spring break.”

“Two weeks,” Beck said, sipping his drink. “Tops.”

“She’s a lesbian,” Cat whispered.

“Jade’s bi,” Beck replied without missing a beat. “Why do you think she hasn’t slashed her tires yet?”

The cast party was chaos. You were dancing, cheeks flushed, spinning Cat around, when Jade stormed through the crowd and grabbed your wrist.

“Come with me.”

She dragged you outside, slammed the door behind you.

“What is your problem with me?” you asked, breathless.

“You,” she said, voice low, rough. “You’re my problem. With your stupid laugh, and your kindness, and your stupid eyes—”

You stepped closer. “Then do something about it.”

She didn’t hesitate.

Jade’s mouth crashed onto yours, rough and desperate, hands in your hair, tugging just enough to make your knees weaken. Your back hit the wall as her lips moved to your jaw, your throat, teeth grazing skin. You gasped, fingers digging into her jacket.

She kissed like she was angry she’d waited this long. Like she was trying to memorize the taste of you.

Inside, Tori peeked through the window and pumped her fist. “I win.”

Outside, Jade whispered against your lips, “You’re still annoying.”