Luckily the bell hasn’t rung yet, so only a few people are giving me curious glances; most of the kids in class are totally preoccupied with their phones anyway.
“You seriously have an iron grip. That’s so weird because you have such cute, teensy, little hands,” he teases, clearly being a good sport about it all.
I don’t really know much about Mason, but the kid’s kind of starting to grow on me. If only he wasn’t BFFs with jerk-face Aiden; I would’ve considered being friends with him. The bell rings, and instead of replying I stick my tongue out at him and turn around to sit back down in my seat.
“You could do way better,” a voice to my immediate left says.
A really pretty girl is sitting in the desk next to mine, giving me a disappointed look with her bright-blue eyes.
“Excuse me?” I ask, confused.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything by it,” she says, pushing curly, shoulder-length brown hair with caramel highlights over her shoulder. “Someone who’s as pretty and with as good fashion sense as you could do better than stooping as low as that player.”
Mason’s at the back of the room talking to Noah and some other boys. Almost every girl in the room (excluding the girl beside me) is gazing lovingly in their direction, seemingly in a trance.
“Oh, well, thanks. But me and Mason? Ew, like never. I don’t want anything to do with him and his jerk-face friends, especially that Aiden asshole.”
She looks at me and her blue eyes light up with recognition. “Oh my God! You’re the girl who told off Aiden a couple of weeks ago! I knew there was a reason I liked you when I first saw you, other than your cute shoes.”
“You saw?”
“I didn’t have too! Everyone was talking about it. What happened? Rumors were going around that you dropped out of school and moved to Antarctica out of fear he’d retaliate.”
“Please, I’m not scared of that asshole. Annoyed? Yes. Aggravated? Definitely. But scared? Never,” I reply.
“I think we’ll be great friends.” She smiles at me. “I’m Charlotte, by the way, and no, you may not call me Charlie. Char? Yes. But I am not a man and therefore do not call me Charlie.”
“Amelia.” I laugh.
“Let me see your schedule. Maybe we’ll have some other classes together!” She squeals. “We have chemistry together third period and then we can go to lunch!”
“Sounds good.” Genuinely smiling for the first time in a long time, I push down the echo of my mom’s voice reminding me that I’m not supposed to be making friends.
A man in his early forties walks in and sets his briefcase down on the teacher’s desk, and we can’t chat anymore as class begins. After first period and promising a very energetic Charlotte that I’d sit with her in chemistry, I find myself sitting near the front of my second-period class: calculus.
I’m so excited! I’m going to have so much fun in this class! Sarcasm. That was sarcasm.
Just as the bell rings the asshole himself waltzes in, talking to a boy with dark-brown-almost-black hair—the fourth walking-tree BFF.
Neither Aiden nor his friend see me, and they take seats near the back on the opposite side of the class. Sliding farther down in my seat, I pray that I get through my allotted torture without him noticing me.
Class goes by without any problems, answering all my prayers. Wanting to get out of here, like, ten minutes ago, I quickly shove everything back into my bag, but I’m in such a rush that my notebook falls to the floor.
“Shit,” I say under my breath.
Just as I’m about to grab it, a large hand gets to it first. I stand up and come face to chest with the breathtakingly handsome Aiden, who is holding my notebook in his hands. This moment is so cliché I’m tempted to roll my eyes.
His gray eyes are indecipherable, and I take my notebook from him without breaking eye contact and without resistance on his part. I stand there, looking into his eyes with my own questioning ones, and then turn around and walk out the door and toward third-period chemistry.
That was weird. And what’s he doing in calculus anyway? Isn’t it, like, illegal to be gorgeous, physically fit, and smart if you have a horrible personality? Wow, I want to speak to whoever decides who gets what genes—this is seriously unfair.
I get to chemistry early and see Charlotte sitting at a desk made for two people near the middle of the classroom. She enthusiastically waves me over, so I take a seat next to her.
“How was calculus?” she asks, as if she already knows how much I adore the subject.
“Oh, you know calculus, it’s always fun! But Aiden and his friend are in my class.” I try not to sound bitter.
Her eyes widen. “Did he say something? Do something? And wait, which friend?”
“Well, it wasn’t Mason or Noah, because I know them. This one was tall, muscular, and pretty handsome, I have to admit.” What I don’t tell her is that he’s not as cute as Aiden. What? I’ve got eyes! I can’t help what they’re attracted to! “He’s kind of pale, dark-brown hair, almost black,” I continue.
“That was Julian,” she informs me. “Look, let me tell you how things are around here.”
She lowers her voice, even though barely anyone is in class yet. “So, there’s the group of guys: Aiden, Mason, Noah, and Julian, and yeah, they’re, like, really close, BFFs. They are notorious for their cocky, egotistical attitudes. Everyone loves them. Guys who don’t wish they were them want to be friends with them, and don’t even get me started on the girls.”
“They’re players?”
“Please,” she scoffs. “They don’t keep girls around long enough to be considered players. Noah and Mason can get whatever girl they want, but they’ve never been in an actual relationship. All the girls basically pine after Aiden, but he barely gives them the time of day. He kind of had a thing with the Queen Bee of the school, Kaitlyn Anderson, for a while, but I’m pretty sure he’s done with her. She’s a major bitch, so I’m surprised he kept her around for as long as he did.”
“Huh. I just keep finding more and more reasons to like these guys.”
Charlotte just laughs, but I’m still curious.
“What about Julian? The one I saw with Aiden in my calc class?” I ask.
“He used to be as bad as Noah and Mason, but I think he changed his ways. He’s been with the same girl, Annalisa, for about four months now, and they seem to be going pretty strong,” she answers.
“What’s your problem with them?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the only girl besides me not drooling over them.”
“I don’t doubt their gorgeousness. The one thing they actually have going for them is their looks, and even I can’t deny it.”
“Talking about me again, Charlie?” says a good-looking guy with inviting brown eyes who just walked into class and heard the last part of our conversation. He takes a seat in the shared desk behind us.
“Get over yourself, Chase. This is Amelia, by the way. Amelia, this humble jerk is Chase.” She introduces us, scowling at his use of her unpreferred nickname. “She’s the one who told off Aiden a couple of weeks ago.”