The hallways were buzzing when I walked into school the next morning—voices overlapping, sneakers squeaking, the usual hum of teenage chaos. I kept my head down, slipping through the crowd like a shadow. After last night at Liam's house, I thought I'd shaken him off. That once the project was behind us, so was he.
I was wrong.
Because as I turned the corner toward my locker, there he was.
Liam.
Leaning against the metal like it was his personal throne, one foot crossed casually over the other, his head tilted just enough to look annoyingly cool. His tie was loose, blazer unbuttoned, and the grin he wore when he saw me was just shy of smug.
My stomach did that stupid flip again—the one I hated. The one that meant danger.
"Good morning, sunshine," he said, pushing off the locker like he'd been waiting there all his life.
I blinked, caught completely off guard. "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for you," he replied, as if it was obvious. "I figured after the quality bonding session we had last night, we're practically best friends now."
I narrowed my eyes. "We worked on a science project. That's not bonding."
He leaned in a little closer. Not enough to make it uncomfortable, but just enough to make me notice how good he smelled—like citrus and warm spice, irritatingly intoxicating. "Could've fooled me."
My heart did another flip. I hated it. I hated that I noticed the way his hair fell slightly over his brow, how his eyes gleamed like he was in on a secret no one else knew. I hated the way his voice dropped half an octave when he was being playful, and I really hated that he was doing it to me.
"Move," I said, reaching past him to open my locker. He didn't.
Instead, he placed his palm against the metal just above my head, caging me in with the most frustrating kind of casual confidence.
"You know," he said, voice lower now, "you're a lot cuter when you're pretending to hate me."
I tilted my head, schooling my face into something unimpressed—even as butterflies waged war in my stomach. "And you're a lot more tolerable when you're not speaking."
"Oof." He grinned. "Wounded again. You have such a way with words, Zara."
"Move."
He did, slowly, with a laugh that sent warmth prickling across the back of my neck. I busied myself with my locker, pretending to dig for something, anything, just so I didn't have to look at him.
"Anyway," he continued, more casually now, "I was thinking we could go over the project one last time tonight. Tighten it up, polish the ending."
I pulled out my textbook and closed the locker, finally meeting his gaze. "I thought you said you were happy with it."
"I was. But now I'm just looking for an excuse to see you again."
He said it so easily. No hesitation. No sarcasm. Just pure, unfiltered flirtation—and it landed like a punch to the ribs.
Butterflies. Again.
I blinked at him. "Do you always do this?"
"Do what?"
"Flirt with people you don't like?"
He paused, and for the first time, something flickered behind his eyes. "Who says I don't like you?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Liam smirked, clearly satisfied with the silence. "I'll take that as a maybe."
Before I could find a comeback, the warning bell rang. Students began shifting toward their classes, and Liam stepped back, brushing a hand through his hair like it hadn't just been the most emotionally confusing thirty seconds of my life.
"See you in third period, partner," he said with a wink.
And then he was gone.
Just like that.
Leaving me standing there with my heartbeat in my throat and my brain scrambling to process what had just happened.
I hated him. I swore I hated him.
But somewhere deep down—somewhere I would never, ever admit out loud—Liam Knight was starting to get under my skin.
And I wasn't sure I knew how to stop him.
I spent most of first and second period pretending Liam hadn't spoken to me that morning. Pretending his stupid smirk hadn't made my stomach twist, or that his voice hadn't curled its way under my skin like a splinter I couldn't dig out.
It was just a fluke, I told myself. He was messing with me. That's what Liam does. He flirts for sport, the same way he plays soccer or snaps back at teachers—just to see what he can get away with. And I wasn't about to be another girl fooled by a pair of sharp cheekbones and a crooked smile.
So I stayed quiet. Focused. Composed.
That is, until lunch.
The cafeteria was already packed when I walked in, and I scanned the room for Kaylee—my safe space, my escape from everything and everyone. We'd promised to sit together, like we always did. Just us. Except she wasn't at our usual table.
Because she was with him.
Nick.
My stepbrother.
Sitting with one arm slung lazily around her shoulders, laughing like he didn't make my life a living nightmare. Kaylee was tucked in close, smiling up at him with this dreamy, soft look on her face that I'd only ever seen her use when she talked about books or bubble tea.
My stomach dropped.
I stood there for a second, paralyzed. Kaylee spotted me, her face lighting up as she waved me over like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
I walked over slowly, my tray suddenly feeling twice as heavy. Nick glanced at me with that smug glint in his eye.
"Hey sis," Nick said casually, knowing how much I hated it whenever he called me that
"Hey, Zara," Kaylee said brightly, scooting over to make space. "Sit!"
I hesitated, looking between her and Nick. "Here?"
"Obviously," Nick said, flashing a grin. "Unless you're scared I'll bite."
I sat stiffly, as far from him as possible.
Kaylee handed me a fork. "We were just talking about the winter formal. Nick thinks we should all go as a group."
"We?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," she said innocently. "You, me, Nick, maybe a few others—like Liam? I saw him talking to you this morning. You guys looked… friendly."
Of course she noticed.
"I wouldn't say friendly," I muttered.
Nick chuckled. "That's not what it looked like from the hallway. He practically had you pinned against the locker."
I shot him a glare. "Maybe keep your commentary to yourself."
"Oof. Touchy," he said, clearly amused.
Kaylee, sweet as ever, tried to smooth things over. "Nick's just teasing. I think it's cute. I mean, you and Liam have chemistry."
I froze. Chemistry?
"I don't want chemistry with Liam," I said through gritted teeth. "I want peace. I want sanity. I want a single day where no one's trying to mess with my head."
Nick raised his soda can in mock salute. "Then maybe don't look at him like you want to kiss or kill him."
"I hate you."
He grinned. "You're welcome."
Kaylee squeezed my hand under the table, offering a small, apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought… maybe it'd be fun, you know? All of us going together. It could feel normal."
But this wasn't normal. Not anymore.
My best friend was dating the boy I couldn't stand living with. The same boy who made me leave my own home. And now he was wrapped around my best friend like he deserved her.
And Liam—Liam was suddenly acting like I was the only girl in the room. Like he wanted something real. Or worse—like he wanted to break me the way he's broken a dozen others before.
It was too much.
"I need air," I said abruptly, grabbing my tray and standing up.
"Zara—" Kaylee called, but I didn't stop.
I dumped my half-eaten lunch and pushed through the cafeteria doors, out into the cool breeze of the courtyard. My hands were shaking, and I hated that. I hated feeling cornered in a school that was already too loud, too fake, too full of people pretending to care.
I sat on a bench near the art building and forced myself to breathe.
This was fine. I was fine.
I just needed to focus. Finish the project. Ignore Liam. Ignore Nick. Maybe even distance myself from Kaylee until she remembered that best friends don't date your personal nightmare.
I was almost calm again when I heard the unmistakable voice behind me.
"There you are. Skipping lunch or avoiding me?"
I looked up, already knowing who it was.
Liam.
He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching me with that familiar half-smile. Only this time, it wasn't smug—it was soft. Curious. Annoyingly thoughtful.
"I'm not avoiding you," I said, voice flat. "I just needed to get away from some… people."
"Ah," he said knowingly. "Nick and his new girlfriend?"
I blinked. "You know?"
He shrugged. "He brags. Loudly. Kind of hard to miss."
I looked away, heat rising in my face. "It's whatever. Not like I care."
Liam sat beside me, leaving a careful distance. "You sure? Because you look like you're trying very hard not to punch something."
I laughed, despite myself. "That obvious?"
"Only to someone who's also tried not to punch Nick."
That caught me off guard. I turned to face him. "You hate him too?"
"He's a snake with good hair," Liam said easily. "He tried to cheat off me last year and then blamed me when we both got caught. So yeah, not a fan."
Yeah, did I forget to mention that Nick was among the popular boys now.
I stared at him, surprised. "You know, sometimes I forget you're not just a walking ego in designer shoes."
Liam grinned. "And sometimes I forget you're not just a tightly wound hurricane of sarcasm."
We were quiet for a beat. Then he added, more softly, "But I like this version of you."
I looked away quickly. My heart fluttered in my chest, and I hated it. I hated that he could say something so simple and make me feel like the ground wasn't so steady anymore.
So I pulled on my mask again. Cold. Unbothered. Unimpressed.
"Well," I said, standing. "Don't get used to it."
He stood too, his voice light but deliberate. "Too late."
"Would you like to go get ice cream with me after school?"
The question caught me off guard causing my jaw to drop.