The next few days were chaos.
Not, like, the "a tornado hit the town" kind of chaos, but the "everyone at Riverside High suddenly thinks my love life is their personal Netflix drama" kind.
For starters, Selena—the girl everyone practically ships with Sergie—has been glaring at me like I kicked her puppy, robbed her house, and stole her boyfriend all in one go. Which I didn't. There isn't anything going on with Sergie.
Except, apparently, the entire sophomore class thinks otherwise.
"Are you two dating?"
"Did he actually confess?"
"Wait, weren't he and Selena a thing? What about your sister, didn't he like her first?"
Every hallway conversation is the same interrogation on repeat. Like I have the time, or patience for this.
And while everyone else is busy auditioning to be TMZ reporters, we're stuck prepping for our fourth-quarter exams and end-of-year projects. Hell week right after PE and Arts Week. My stress levels are so high, I might spontaneously combust.
And Sergie? Still hasn't messaged me back since his cryptic "What if I am?" text. Which is… fine. Really. Probably better this way. Who sends something like that and just disappears? He's either playing some weird mind game, or he's the kind of guy who enjoys watching girls spiral into confusion.
Either way, not falling for it. Nope.
…Even if my brain replays that moment like a broken TikTok loop every five minutes.
To distract myself, I throw myself into "being busy." (doing absolutely nothing productive while pretending to study.)
Our PE group is supposed to be practicing for the final dance performance at the covered court, but we're mostly just gossiping and scrolling through TikTok while the other groups act like they're auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance.
Then there's the nightmare of our Architecture-Physics crossover project: building a scale model of a house with actual working lights. The Physics teacher will judge the wiring, the Arts teacher will judge the aesthetics, and if it fails? We basically tank both grades.
Thankfully, we pulled an all-nighter at Jace's house last weekend to finish the thing. All that's left is wiring, which Luke—our resident wannabe engineer—is handling. I'm not touching a single wire. Last time I did, I shocked myself so bad I smelled burnt hair.
By the time classes end, my routine's predictable, Selene gets picked up by her dad's whatever high end car was that since it attracts the students' attention, Marie grabs a ride with her, Alcy disappears into her cousin's Jeep, and Eve and I walk home together like the broke suburban peasants we are.
That night, I'm sprawled on my bed, pretending to study while actually watching cat videos. My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Unknown number.
Hey! Are you done with your exams?
Creepy. Who even is this? I don't hand out my number like Costco free samples. And I can already feel Sely's chaotic energy radiating from this. She's the queen of prank texts.
Who the hell are you?
Because if this is a prank, someone's getting bitten. (Yes, like a feral raccoon. I've done it before.)
Owww, it's me, Sergie. My bad.
Excuse me… WHAT?
My brain does three consecutive backflips.
What the heck?
I'll fetch you after class tomorrow. Walk you home. <3
WHAT?!
I stare at my phone for a solid thirty seconds, debating whether to laugh, scream, or throw it across the room. Why is he like this? What even is this? Is this a joke? Is he… serious?
Ugh. Boys.
Still, the next morning, I… may or may not have "accidentally" borrowed Eve's compact mirror, fixed my hair, and dabbed on some of her lip tint. (She calls it her "emergency thirst-aid kit.")
Which, of course, means every single girl in our class suddenly decides they need to "freshen up" too. Selene even mooches off my lip tint like it's a public resource. At this rate, I should start charging by the swipe.
The last period feels like it lasts a century. Time is crawling slower than a snail on life support.
Finally, the dismissal bell rings.
And that's when I hear it
"Selena! Your boyfriend's here!" one of our classmates hollers.
My stomach knots instantly. Oh. Cool. So this is about her, not me. Figures I wasted lip tint for nothing.
But then Sergie steps into the room.
And he's not looking at Selena.
His eyes scan the room once, twice… then land on me.
Oh no.
He walks straight toward me. Selena's face hardens into something between "murder" and "murder, but in a cute way so no one suspects me."
"Hey," Sergie says casually, lightly tapping the top of my head like he always used to when we were kids. "Let's go?"
I just… nod. Because words? Don't know her.
"Hand me your bag," he says, already reaching for it. "I'll carry it."
I hand it over, hyper-aware of literally every pair of eyes on us. The entire class is staring like they're front row at a live romcom premiere. If someone starts playing Ed Sheeran on a speaker, I'm bolting.
I glance at Selena. Her eyes meet mine.
Yeah… if looks could kill, I'd be six feet under.
Panic mode activated.
I yank my bag back. Sergie freezes, confused.
"What's wrong?" he asks, brows furrowing.
"Uh… I forgot. We're… uh… staying at Alcy's house to finish our Architecture project. Maybe next time?" I shoot Alcy a desperate side-eye, basically telepathically screaming back me up or I die.
"Oh, uh… yeah, project," Alcy stammers, biting her lip so hard she might draw blood to keep from laughing.
"Tomorrow morning? It's Saturday," Sergie points out, smirking like he already knows I'm full of crap. "There's no class. Are you avoiding me?"
He raises one brow, fighting a smile.
"What? No! I mean… it's supposed to be due today, but we begged for an extension, so our teacher said… tomorrow." Even I don't believe my own excuse at this point.
"Right." Sergie chuckles, clearly amused.
"Next time, then. And hey—don't skip dinner, okay?" he calls as he heads out, waving like this is completely normal.
If this guy doesn't actually ask me out soon, I'm dropkicking him into the nearest trash can.
The moment he's gone, the room explodes. Everyone's shouting, teasing, chanting my name, while Selena stares at me like she's plotting my demise.
Days pass. No texts. No calls. Sergie ghosts me completely.
Fine. Whatever. Not bitter. (Okay, maybe slightly bitter.)
Graduation practices take over school life, and before I know it, we're at the closing program. Everyone in our class gets an honor—Sely lands in the top 5, Marie and I make the top 10, and Eve and Alcy scrape into the top 15. Not bad.
After the ceremony, we take a million group pictures, and head home.
The first day of sophomore year sneaks up on me fast.
Eve and I walk to school, sipping iced coffees like we're cool city girls even though we're literally in suburban Pennsylvania.
"What section are we in again?" Eve asks, scrolling through her phone.
"Section A," I reply, already bracing for the chaos of finding our new classroom.
Sure enough, Marie's already there, scanning the posted list by the door.
"Marie!" I wave. She smiles and waves back.
"Sely and Alcy here yet?" I ask.
"Nope. You know them. They'll probably show up right before the bell rings," she says.
We grab seats in the third column. Doesn't matter, though—the teacher will rearrange us alphabetically anyway.
By mid-September, it's Intramurals season.
I don't play sports, so I'm just here for the snacks and gossip. Eve's on the volleyball team, while Alcy, Marie, Sely and I lounge on the bleachers like supportive girlfriends (to no one).
The sophomores dominated volleyball, both boys and girls. But basketball? The juniors destroyed everyone. They've stacked their team with every varsity player in school.
And who's leading the charge?
Sergie.
He's in the first five, running his fingers through his hair as he smirks, glances at the stands, and casually sinks a three-pointer.
My stupid heart skips. Which is annoying. Because, again, ghosted.
Alcy and Sely immediately make things worse by cupping their hands around their mouths and yelling, "GO AESTERIA!" so loud, half the gym turns to look.
Sergie glances over, spots me, and—of course—waves.
And me? I wave back like a total idiot, while my pulse drums so loudly I can barely hear the whistle.
Yep. I'm doomed.
By lunch, we ditch the game and head to the local diner for greasy fried chicken and fries.
Just as I'm mid-bite, my phone buzzes.
It's him. Sergie.
Hey, let's grab dinner later. ^_________^
And just like that, my heart does that dumb, annoying skipping thing again.
What do I even reply?