[Rae's POV
The smirk still haunted me. It lingered in the back of my mind like a whisper I couldn't quite make out, a dare that licked at the edges of my pride. I didn't even know his name. That made it worse. I couldn't place a label on what he was to me—yet I knew what he was not: respectful.
He looked at me. Smirked. Then looked away.
He broke the eye contact. He broke it.
How dare he.
I wasn't used to being dismissed. Especially not like that. The classroom still felt quiet, still smelled like lavender hand sanitizers and daddy's money. I sat rigid in my chair, furious at the flush rising to my face. It wasn't attraction. Don't be ridiculous. It was insult. He insulted me. And it thrilled me. It rattled my core like a sliver of winter ice sliding down my spine.
So, I needed distraction.
I turned my head slowly, eyes scanning the room like a monarch bored at court, surveying a parade of jesters. If I couldn't obsess over him, I'd amuse myself in other ways.
Exhibition A: Arabella Kingsley — Draped in cashmere and insecurity. Hair in the perfect ballet bun, like she'd been born in a Chanel boutique. A perpetual frown creased her brows, as if she disapproved of her own existence. Her voice—soft, fluttery, and full of tragic sighs—had already made two people hand her a tissue. Emotional type. Her eyes looked like she cried over tulips not blooming.
Conclusion: Weeping willow in Gucci flats. Would crumble if someone told her her eyeliner wasn't symmetrical.
Exhibition B: Felicity Bellemont — She thanked the chair when she sat down. I am not joking. She thanked. The. Chair. Her voice sounded like the inside of a teacup. Always appreciative, always smiling. Like one of those support hotline operators who thanks you for yelling at them. Eyes big with naive optimism.
Conclusion: Disney princess, possibly animatronic. Likely talks to squirrels.
Exhibition C: Anastasia Wren-Hollow — Dramatic with a capital D. Spoke in long, gasping sentences like every word was a Shakespearean soliloquy. Flung her scarf off like she was auditioning for a Victorian ghost. Probably faints for attention. Probably already has.
Conclusion: Theatrical disaster. Would die for attention and then come back as her own ghost.
Exhibition D: Prudence Fairleigh — Nerd. Cardigan-wearing, binder-hugging, rule-quoting nerd. Eyes squinted in judgment every time someone talked during announcements. Pencil bag alphabetized. Follows teachers like a backup hard drive.
Conclusion: Walking academic weapon. Useful, but must be kept at a safe emotional distance.
Exhibition E: Morgana Duskmoor — Gothic. Black eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. Boots that scream 'step on me, I dare you.' Quiet, intense, and looks like she hexes people for fun. Currently reading a book titled "The Moon Is My Mistress."
Conclusion: Would be my soulmate if I liked sharing. Dangerous potential. Must monitor.
Exhibition F: Clementine Vervaine — Bubbly. Overexposed sunshine in human form. Bounced when she walked. Actually bounced. Wears lemon-printed socks and calls everyone "bestie" unironically. Friends with Morgana. How? No idea. They're opposites. But they share a desk and seem... symbiotic. Yin and caffeine-fueled yang.
Conclusion: Annoyingly endearing. I hate how much I don't hate her. She's a kitten I want to throw off a table just to see if she lands on her feet.
Exhibition G: Benedict Rowe — Smiles like he's hosting a daytime talk show in his head. The kind one. Too kind. Suspiciously kind. Probably rescues bugs instead of killing them. Has already offered gum to three people.
Conclusion: Will either cure cancer or get eaten alive in this school.
Exhibition H: Saffron Wilde — Always smiling. Not even in a creepy way. Just... always smiling. Said "Yay!" when the teacher gave out textbooks. Who does that? Enjoys everything. No idea what her trauma is, but I know it's there. That kind of joy is never free.
Conclusion: Will survive the apocalypse and host a brunch during it.
Exhibition I: Giselle Hartwright — One of Valentina's tails. Dressed like she was printed out of Vogue. Laughs half a second after Valentina does. Eyes follow everything I do. Calculated. Strategic. Desperate to be relevant.
Conclusion: Background character in her own movie. Will betray for a cookie.
Finished.
The performance was over, but I remained seated like a predator digesting her meal. The distraction had helped. Slightly.
That damn smirk still loomed in my mind, but now it simmered under a layer of superiority. I was better. He just didn't know it yet. I'd make him see it. Plaything, nothing more.
And then, just when my mind felt like it had reached a plateau, there was a voice beside me—annoying, uninvited, and oh-so-loud.
"Hey!" Aiden grinned at me like I hadn't just spent the last ten minutes contemplating the most important puzzle pieces of my life. "You're Rae, right? We're gonna be best friends. I'm Aiden!"
I blinked, the words processing slowly in my brain. Best friends?
"Best… friends?" I said it slowly, as though the concept itself was too foreign to compute.
Aiden, annoyingly persistent as ever, leaned a bit closer. His clothes—ripped jeans, a graphic tee, and sneakers—were so unimpressed by the concept of fashion that I almost admired it. His messy hair stuck out at odd angles, like he had rolled out of bed five minutes ago and didn't care to hide it. "Yeah, yeah. Best friends. You and me. I'm calling it now."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're… what? Are you serious?"
Aiden nodded enthusiastically, that ridiculous grin never leaving his face. "Yeah! I've decided. I think we're gonna be like, super close. You seem like you need a friend who gets you, and I'm that guy."
I couldn't suppress the eye roll. This is why I hated people. They were so willing to latch on, to cling to anything that moved. "You're an idiot," I muttered.
"Thank you!" he shot back, not a hint of offense in his voice. "I've been working on that. But seriously, Rae, you're too cool to be alone all the time."
"I'm not alone," I said, almost snapping. "And I'm certainly not your best friend. What makes you think I need one?"
"Because, Rae, you've got that cool, mysterious vibe. And everyone knows, if you've got that vibe, you're either a lone wolf… or secretly lonely. So, I'm gonna help you out. You're welcome."
"Yeah, well, I don't need you helping me," I snapped, my irritation rising.
"But I want to help you!" he grinned, completely oblivious to the storm he was causing inside me.
I bit back a laugh, but it felt more like the growl of a predator than amusement. "I can't stand you," I growled.
But Aiden didn't back down. In fact, he leaned even closer, his smile impossibly wide. "Too bad, bestie. I'm sticking around."
I was ready to push him away when something about his unshakable, childish persistence grated me to the point where I couldn't quite bring myself to. Instead, I sat back, crossed my arms, and stewed in my own fury.
Because despite all of my irritation… Aiden was amusing.