Aurora stared at the page for a second, then turned her head and muttered to herself, "Yup. Definitely a falling apple."
As Aurora adjusted herself in the new seat beside that girl, hoping to fade into post-lecture silence, she could feel the girl's burning gaze still on her. The silence stretched—sharp, coiled like a drawn bow.
Then the girl spoke. And the bowstring snapped.
"So," the girl said, tone dripping with disdain, "I saw you waltzing in with Leo this morning."
Aurora blinked, confused. "I mean... we just walked—"
The girl let out a small, sarcastic laugh, folding her manicured hands on the desk. "Just walked? You make it sound so casual. Like you don't know what that looks like to people. Like you're some innocent little bunny caught in his spotlight. Spare me."
Aurora's throat tightened. "I—I didn't mean to—"
But the girl didn't let her finish. She leaned in, voice sharp and low. "Let me guess. New girl. First week. And somehow you think the rules don't apply to you. That you can just pop into campus and cling to Leo Callahan like a starved puppy?"
Aurora reeled. The venom in her words was sudden and stinging, her perfect features twisted with something deeper than dislike. Envy.
"I've been in love with Leo for months," she hissed, almost trembling. "And now suddenly you're in every hallway he walks through. What's so special about you, huh?"
Aurora opened her mouth—what to say, she didn't even know. She wasn't expecting this. She hadn't even done anything.
Then—
"Oh, for crying out loud—" came a loud, theatrical voice from the doorway.
Vanessa.
Hair half-tamed in a claw clip, one sneaker untied, and fire practically trailing behind her, she stomped into the classroom like she owned the building. Her glasses slipped a little down her nose, but her eyes were deadly locked on the rude girl.
"You know what?" Van barked, striding in, "If you're going to monologue like a villain from a bad telenovela, at least try and make it subtle. You're embarrassing yourself."
The girl blinked, stunned. "Excuse me—?"
"Oh, no no no." Van held up a finger and marched right over to Aurora, who was frozen between confusion and awe. "You don't get to trash my girl because you're too chicken to speak to the boy you've been drooling over since last semester."
The girl looked like she'd been slapped. "I—what—"
Van wasn't done. She turned, eyes ablaze. "You've got a mouth full of bile and zero courage. That's not Aurora's fault. That's yours." Then, turning to Aurora with the softest shift in tone, she said, "Come on, babe. We're not wasting our aura on peasants."
Then, dramatically—dramatically—Van took Aurora's hand and stormed out of the classroom like she was leading a royal kitten out of a room full of barking dogs.
They didn't stop until they hit the hallway, where Aurora finally managed to breathe.
"Van…" she gasped, voice shaking, "what even was—"
"Scumbag. I don't even remember her God damn name." Vanessa rolled her eyes. "That bitch has had a crush on Leo since prehistoric times. Her notebook literally had 'Mrs. Leo Callahan' written in bubble letters last month. You're not the problem, she is."
"I didn't even flirt with him! He did!" Aurora said, bewildered. "I was just... being polite."
Van turned dramatically and grabbed both of Aurora's shoulders. "Listen to me, my sweet star child — when you're pretty, polite, and walk next to Leo Callahan, you become everyone's business. Jealousy doesn't need logic, it needs therapy."
Aurora burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
Van nodded seriously. "Now come. I need coffee, you need space, and that chick needs holy water."
Aurora wiped at her eyes, smiling. "You're kind of amazing."
Van grinned. "Duh. I'm the best thing that ever happened to your social life."
Together, hand in hand, they headed off toward the cafeteria — Aurora still shaken, but no longer alone.
And in that whirlwind of drama, fury, and fierce friendship, Aurora realized something:
She might have been the new girl…
But she wasn't unarmed anymore.