Chapter 1: The Seven Sisters
"Where are my clothes?!"
"Reese, where's Paicey?"
"Valerie! Your paints got on my clothes again!"
"I'm sorry, Yasha! I'll clean it up!"
"Ophira, did you cook breakfast already?"
"Nope. It's Bailey's turn."
"I thought it was Gaia's turn?"
"Oh—yeah, it's mine. Sorry!"
Welcome to the Laurier household.
Where chaos is the norm, peace is a myth, and volume control doesn't exist.
You'd think with nine people under one roof—including our parents and our overly dramatic pets—we'd figure out a system by now. But nope. Every morning sounds like a full-blown festival.
And today is no different.
From outside the mansion, we probably sound like a tornado rolled through. Honestly, I wouldn't blame the neighbors for filing a noise complaint.
"They're noisy again," I heard one of them say.
"Yeah. Every morning and every night," another chimed in.
Still, don't get them wrong. Our neighborhood adores us—somehow. We've done more for the community than we can even count.
I help out with the company now. Half of the profits? Straight to charity. It's exhausting, but worth it.
Ophira? Olympic medals. Every cent she earns from them? Orphanages.
Yasha? Modeling icon. She turns every appearance into a charity spotlight.
Gaia wins academic competitions like it's a sport. And yep—charity again.
Bailey acts, smiles, waves—and people donate like crazy.
Valerie's a painting prodigy. Started her own foundation to help kids discover art.
And Paicey—sweet, energetic, chaos-in-sparkles Paicey—uses her idol platform to sing for our events, pulling in crowds and donations alike.
Yeah, we're noisy. But we make it count.
One by one, we step out of the house, all dressed in our school uniforms, looking like a K-drama squad despite the war zone we just survived inside.
Me? I'm Reese Laurier. Oldest sister, self-declared CEO of this madhouse, and unfortunately—for better or worse—your narrator for today.
God help us all...
All seven of us go to the same school—not by choice, mind you, but because our parents have a weird obsession with "keeping us together while we still can." As if we don't already share a bathroom schedule that resembles a war plan.
But we're not in the same grade level, obviously!
The quadruplets—me, Ophira, Yasha, and Gaia—we're a year ahead. The triplets—Bailey, Valerie, and Paicey—are in the grade below. It's funny how even our chaos came in matching sets.
As soon as we arrived at school, it was the usual: synchronized goodbye waves (kind of), a dramatic hair flip or two from Yasha, and then we split off like well-dressed missiles heading to different targets.
Yasha and I went straight to our English class—aka nap time if the teacher's voice hits just the right tone.
Ophira peeled off toward the gym, already tying up her hair, basketball bag slung over one shoulder like a pro.
Gaia? History class. I swear she was born in the wrong century with how obsessed she is with ancient civilizations. The moment we got to school, she muttered something about "the golden age of Athenian democracy" and vanished.
The triplets had their classes in the next building over. I watched Bailey laughing at something Valerie said, while Paicey skipped beside them like her bones were made of pop songs.
And just like that, our house hurricane became seven smaller whirlwinds tearing through the school.
I took a deep breath as I sat in English class. For a moment, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
Which only meant one thing—something chaotic was about to happen.
And spoiler alert?
I was right!
First days of school are exhausting. That's why I hate them.
I'm already seated at the front, waiting for the professor to walk in. What is taking him so long? Don't tell me he's late—again. If he worked for my company, he'd be fired on the spot. Yeah, I might sound snobbish, but this is me. Deal with it.
I rolled my eyes, not realizing someone was standing in front of me.
"Did I do something wrong to earn that eye roll?" a voice said.
I looked up—and instantly regretted it.
Of course. The one looking down at me was none other than that stupid jerk's brother. Who is also a jerk. A bigger one, actually.
I rolled my eyes again. This time, intentionally at him.
"Woah, still feisty as ever, my Reese," he said with a smirk and laughed.
I nearly threw up right then and there.
"Don't call me that," I snapped. "What do you want now, stupid brother of Kaiden?"
"Ouch, that hurts, you know, babygirl," he faked a wince and placed a hand over his heart like some low-budget soap actor.
I rolled my eyes again and looked down at my paper, pretending he didn't exist. Of course, he had to open his mouth again.
"Roll your eyes one more time and you'll probably see your brain," he said.
I looked up at him again—and that was the dumbest decision I've ever made in my entire life.
Because somehow, we kissed.
I hadn't even noticed how close he'd leaned in. No wonder his remark sounded louder—he whispered it right into my ear. The moment I turned, our lips accidentally met.
I instantly pulled away, heart hammering. I opened my mouth to yell, to curse, to scream—but of course, that's exactly when the professor walked in. Perfect timing. Note the sarcasm.
I buried my face in my hands just as my sister sat beside me. I didn't even have to look at her to know she was smiling.
They were all probably smiling.
I just hoped this day would end. Fast.
"Nice lipstick," he whispered again, still too damn close for comfort. "Cherry red suits me."
"Get a life," I hissed without looking at him, still covering half my face like it could erase what just happened.
He chuckled under his breath, like this was the funniest thing that had ever happened to him. Ugh. I wanted to vanish into thin air. Or better yet, time travel back five minutes and slap myself before I ever made eye contact.
Yasha leaned toward me, trying to suppress her grin but failing miserably.
"So," she whispered, "we're kissing enemies now?"
I groaned. "Don't."
"I mean, I always knew you had taste," she teased, flipping her perfect model hair over her shoulder like this wasn't the most humiliating moment of my life.
"I'm going to kill him," I muttered, ignoring the professor who was already droning on about course expectations and assignments we'd all forget in two hours.
"What did he do?" Yasha asked, clearly entertained.
"He kissed me!"
"Oh, he kissed you?"
I blinked. "Okay, I kissed him too—BUT IT WAS AN ACCIDENT."
Yasha bit her lip to keep from laughing. I could hear a muffled chuckle from the jerk beside me—yes, him, still sitting there like he owned the damn world.
I didn't even dare glance his way again. One accidental kiss was enough trauma for a year.
But of course, I wasn't lucky.
A folded note slid onto my desk. I stared at it like it was cursed.
I unfolded it, already fuming, and read:
"If that's how you shut people up, feel free to yell at me again sometime."
I crumpled it immediately and threw it at his smug face.
He caught it. With one hand.
Still grinning.
The worst part?
My heart skipped.
Traitor.
I tried to focus on the professor's voice, but every word blurred into white noise. My mind was stuck on one loop: I kissed him. I kissed the idiot. In front of people. I KISSED HIM.
Worse? He was smiling like he just won the damn lottery.
I glanced at him—just to glare—and caught him already looking at me. Again. That stupid half-smirk was still there, like he had every right to be amused.
"Stop looking at me," I snapped under my breath.
He leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his palm like we were just casually having coffee. "Can't help it, sweetheart. You're magnetic."
"I'm allergic to stupidity," I muttered.
"Then it's amazing how you haven't broken out in hives sitting next to me."
Touché. Damn it.
I whipped my head away, pretending to take notes just so I'd have something to do with my hands. But my grip on the pen was so tight I might've snapped it in half. I could still feel his gaze on the side of my face—like a heatwave I couldn't turn off.
Yasha elbowed me gently.
"You know," she whispered, "some people actually like being flirted with."
I gave her the most scandalized look of my life.
"I am not—repeat, not—being flirted with. I am being targeted. Emotionally harassed. Verbally stabbed. That was an attack, Yasha."
"Right," she said, clearly enjoying this too much. "Just letting you know. You're blushing."
I slapped both hands to my cheeks.
"No, I'm not!"
"Sure."
"Shut up."
Mr. Smirk beside me—Raiden freaking Whitlock—was now lazily tapping his pen against his notebook, totally relaxed. Like he hadn't just flipped my entire world upside down with a ten-second disaster of a kiss.
Oh, Kaiden would love this if he found out. His ex-girlfriend accidentally kissing his brother? Reality show levels of drama.
Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, Raiden leaned in again and whispered, "You taste like cherry and rage. New favorite flavor."
That's it.
I raised my hand.
"Yes, Ms. Laurier?" the professor called.
"I need to switch seats," I said, deadpan. "For academic reasons. And personal safety."
Raiden chuckled under his breath.
I didn't care.
I would move to the roof if I had to.
________________________________________
The moment the professor dismissed us, I shot up from my seat like it burned.
"I'm going ahead," I told Yasha, grabbing my things.
She raised a brow, clearly not fooled. "You sure? Yuan and I are just staying a bit to talk to Professor Lin about the project."
"Have fun with that. I'm escaping."
"From what?" she asked, too innocently.
I didn't answer. I just left.
I made it to the hallway, hoping—praying—that Raiden would be distracted by someone else. Anyone else. Maybe a wall. But of course, my life wasn't a fairytale.
"Running from me, Reese?"
His voice echoed behind me.
I stopped, sighed, and slowly turned around.
There he was. Leaning against the wall like some teen drama villain. One hand in his pocket, the other clutching his bag strap, his tie a little loose, like he walked straight out of a magazine cover I'd rather set on fire.
"I don't run," I said coolly, crossing my arms. "I walk away with class."
"Sure you do. Right after accidentally kissing me."
"That—" I pointed a sharp finger at him. "—was your fault."
"How is that my fault?" he asked, looking genuinely amused. "You're the one who turned."
"You're the one who leaned in! Who does that? Who gets that close just to deliver a stupid line?"
"I'm dramatic. Sue me."
"I might."
"Do it," he said with a grin. "You'll have to show up in court. With me. Across the room. All eyes on us. Very romantic."
I stared at him, stunned.
"What is wrong with you?"
He took a step forward, and I instinctively stepped back, hitting a locker. Great.
"I mean it, Reese. You're kind of fun when you're flustered."
"I'm not flustered," I said, which would've been more convincing if my ears weren't already turning pink.
He leaned in again, but this time I was ready. I shoved a notebook between our faces like a shield.
"Touch me again and I'll turn your face into modern art," I said sweetly.
He laughed—laughed—like this was just a game.
"You already kissed me once. Don't tempt fate."
"That was an accident," I hissed.
"And yet, here we are," he said, backing off with a smug smile. "If that's what you do on the first day, I can't wait for midterms."
I glared at him as he walked away, completely unbothered, like he hadn't just ruined my peace and sanity.
Yasha came out seconds later, hand in hand with Yuan. "So... how was your escape?"
I looked at her, expression blank.
"I'm transferring schools."