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I let go of Brandon's hand and stopped walking. My spine straightened, shoulders squared.
A switch flipped.
Jade.
Of course.
My brows pulled together, eyes going cold. I turned slowly, the kind of slow that says don't waste my time.
Why was she stopping me?
We had nothing to talk about.
We weren't friends.
And I made that painfully clear.
"Can I help you?" I asked, voice low — a warning disguised as politeness.
I wasn't in the mood for complications. Not after Sandy. Not today.
"Hi?" she said with a bright smile, like we were having some cute reunion montage.
I just stared back, unblinking.
Her smile wavered. She glanced at Brandon, then back at me.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?"
I repeated, sharper this time, slicing the words clean:
"Can. I. Help. You."
Brandon stayed quiet beside me. Smart move. One wrong word and this whole thing would explode.
"I just wanted to say hi. I haven't seen you in forever."
Her tone was light, but her eyes? Hunting for a reaction.
I felt something crawl under my skin — irritation, regret, a memory I didn't ask for.
"I told you it was a one-night thing. Nothing's happening again."
The honesty cut more than intended, but I wasn't about to sugarcoat anything.
"And I told you…"
She leaned in, lips curving in that smug, knowing smirk.
"…not everything ends where it starts."
A muscle in my jaw twitched.
"Nothing started," I said quietly. "So there's nothing to end."
For a second — just one — her confidence cracked.
Her pupils widened. Her throat bobbed.
Like I'd finally spoken a truth she'd been avoiding.
"Jade!" someone called from across the courtyard. A red-haired girl waved, impatient.
Jade straightened, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her shirt.
"We'll talk later," she said, voice dipped in fake sweetness.
"No," I replied, steady. "We won't."
She froze — only for half a second — before she forced a smile, tucked her hair behind her ear like she needed an upper hand, and walked away.
Her perfume lingered in the air.
So did the past I refused to acknowledge.
I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
Brandon nudged me, voice low. "Who was that?"
"No one."
Two syllables. Full stop.
Door locked. Conversation dead.
We continued walking until we reached the hall. People were already seated — perfect, an audience. We slipped into the back row, attempting invisibility.
Then—
KRRR-THUD.
His phone slipped, hit the floor screen first, bounced in slow motion…
and slid allllll the way down the aisle like a bold Olympic figure skater.
I froze.
So did Brandon.
So did the entire hall.
And then—
like the universe personally hated me—
his phone lit up and blasted at maximum volume:
> ♪ "I'M A BARBIE GIRL, IN A BARBIE WOOORLD—!" ♪
A gasp rippled through the hall.
Every head turned. I prayed for the earth to open up and swallow me.
The dean stopped speaking mid-sentence, blinked twice, and stared at the phone like it was a demon.
I quickly took the seat that was near me. Brandon sprang and lunged for the phone, but because he was still in shock, he tripped over his own shoe and faceplanted into the aisle.
Not just fell.
SPRAWLED.
Arms out. Legs wide. Backpack on his back like a stuck turtle.
> ♪ "LIFE IN PLAAAASTIC!" ♪
He scrambled forward on his knees, crawling like a soldier in a war movie.
People started recording.
Someone whispered loudly:
"Bro is doing the Barbie Walk of Shame."
Another:
"Is this… performance art?"
The dean cleared her throat into the mic.
"Phones on silent, please."
Brandon finally reached his phone, grabbed it, flipped it over—and the phone slipped right out of his hand again.
The song restarted.
> ♪ "IMAGINATION, LIFE IS YOUR CREATION—" ♪
A group of girls near the front lost it, laughing so hard they were crying.
A guy actually yelled:
"SLAY, KEN!"
Brandon slammed the phone to mute it. Nothing.
He tapped the screen frantically like he was trying to defuse a bomb.
"STOP— STOP— STOP!"
Finally, mercifully, the music cut off.
Brandon stood, hair wild, face red all the way to his ears.
Everyone applauded.
APPLAUDED.
He walked back to his seat like a defeated war veteran.
When he sat down, chest heaving, I whispered:
"You good?"
He leaned toward me and whispered, completely serious:
"I swear, that used to be a motivational alarm."
I stared at him.
"You wake up motivated… to be plastic?"
He nodded, panting.
"Sometimes. Depends on the day."
I buried my face in my hands, shaking my head.
He leaned closer, eyes hollow.
"Never speak of this."
I nodded solemnly.
"Whatever you say… Barbie Girl."
He groaned and dropped his head onto his laps.
The woman on stage cleared her throat. "Attention everyone, welcome—"
The orientation dragged.
History of the school.
Rules.
Guidelines.
More rules.
Brandon dozed off halfway.
Two hours later, freedom.
People stormed the exit like they'd been imprisoned — pushing, shoving, stepping on toes. I stayed seated and put my headphones on. Music. Peace. Escape.
I needed to think.
I needed to see Sandy.
I needed to fix whatever this rift was.
But I'd only been to her place once… and I didn't remember the route.
Who could take me there—?
A smell cut through everything.
Warm. Familiar.
Vanilla.
My breath stalled. I lifted my head.
"Sam?"
Her name slipped out, too loud — maybe from shock, maybe because of the music blasting in my ears.
She smiled — soft, warm, dangerous.
"Quite an entrance, huh?"
Butterflies erupted in my stomach.
Stupid butterflies.
"Blame him." I pointed at Brandon, who was slowly sliding down his seat like a dying plant.
"Huh?" he mumbled half asleep.
Sam laughed. That laugh.
The one I'd memorized.
"So this is your school?" she asked.
"Yeah. You too?"
"Yep." She nudged me lightly. "Apparently."
Right. Derek had told me his sister would be in the same school.
Wait — same course too?
This is bad. So bad.
"You okay?" she asked, tapping my arm gently.
"Yeah. Yeah." I nodded too fast. "You're doing Economics, right?"
"How'd you know?"
"Your brother told me."
Why was I smiling?
Why was my heart acting like an idiot?
Everyone else was gone. It was just the three of us. Brandon stumbled awake as I stood.
"Hi," Sam said to him.
He blinked and gave a tiny nod, still half asleep. Stunning social interaction.
We walked out together, the afternoon air warm against my skin.
"So… heading home?" Sam asked.
"I was gonna look around campus, but I need to take this one home."
Since when do I change plans for someone I barely know?
"I'll give you a ride," she offered. "Unless you already have one?"
"No. His boyfriend dropped us."
"You're in luck," she said, lips curving. "I took Derek's car today."
Wind blew her hair across her face. She tucked some behind her ear, but a few strands escaped.
Before I could think, I reached out and brushed them back.
Her skin.
Warm.
Soft.
A spark shot up my arm.
Her eyes lifted to mine.
Her ear turned pink.
Time stopped — like the world paused to watch us malfunction together.
What am I doing?
I pulled back fast and shoved my hand into my pocket.
"We should go," I said, voice shaky.
The drive was quiet. Even Brandon stopped breathing loudly.
When we reached my building, I turned to Sam.
"Do you… want to come in? For lunch?"
I expected her to say no.
She didn't.
She smiled. "Sure."
Just like that, the world tilted again.
We walked to the entrance, side by side. For once, the air felt light.
"Sandy?"