Bryce and I had just arrived at school, both out of breath from rushing to get to class. We thought we were already late—thank God, Prof. Gomez hadn't arrived yet.
As we made our way to our usual seats, we were still laughing about what had just happened earlier.
The moment we stepped in, there was Anton—right outside the classroom, clearly waiting for Bryce. The moment he saw her, he pulled her aside and they started talking like there wasn't a class about to start.
I was just about to sit down when the ultimate morning nuisance decided to speak up.
"Look who's late. Good morning, Miss Bump."
Zayden.
The class president who seemed to have signed a lifetime contract to annoy me. He still called me Miss Bump even though the bump on my forehead—yes, the one he caused—is long gone.
I smiled. That type of smile that looks nice on the outside, but comes with a mental wish for him to trip while walking.
Before the banter could go on, Prof. Gomez arrived—with two others who looked like transferees.
"Settle down, everyone," he said, voice cold but authoritative.
The class immediately went quiet. It was like someone pressed an invisible remote control. Everyone sat up straight, nervous, adjusting their posture.
The moment we saw the faces of the two, time seemed to stop. Bryce and I exchanged a look—one filled with shock and disbelief.
"Isn't that them? The ones from earlier? The girl you almost got hit by?" Bryce whispered, glancing at the new students.
I didn't answer. I just stared at the two of them—
What kind of bad luck is this? Of all the possible new classmates… why them? I felt cursed.
"We have two new students joining us starting today," Prof. Gomez said. "Please introduce yourselves to the class."
"Hi everyone!" she said, scanning the entire room like she was looking for fans.
"I'm Samantha Rose Rodriguez, eighteen. I know, dazzling, right? But please, don't feel threatened by my beauty. I didn't choose this either."
Someone from the second row muttered, "So full of herself," while the girls nearby started whispering, unsure whether to laugh or feel sorry for her boldness.
"Let's all get along… unless someone's bitter. Then... sorry, not my fault if you feel insecure."
She winked at some random guy in the third row.
Bryce and I exchanged a look—the kind that holds back laughter but says everything without words.
We didn't say a thing, but that look was enough to say: "Is this girl for real?"
Our laugh was quiet, almost just between us. But the mix of annoyance and amusement? Very real.
Then the other one introduced himself.
"Yo, I'm Axel—your future heartbreaker. Sorry in advance, it's not my fault I'm this handsome."
He even raised his eyebrow and winked at a random classmate who clearly wasn't impressed.
"And yeah, don't expect too much from me during recitation. I'm not here to be smart—I'm here to make your view better."
He laughed at his own joke like he lived in his own world—or on another planet entirely.
His hair was a mess, like it had been styled with wind and arrogance. Not exactly handsome by definition, but his attitude screamed "idol me."
"Sorry we're late. Some girl was blocking our way, and some guy was acting all boyfriend trying to rescue her—waste of our time."
"True. So dramatic. You'd think she actually got hit," Samantha said, laughing. "Trying so hard to get attention, not even pretty."
That pushed me over the edge. I stood up—pretending to laugh at first, but my face turned serious fast. I looked straight at them, each step slow but firm.
"Excuse me? I think I'm the one you're talking about." I raised my eyebrow, eyes sharp.
They glanced at each other—clearly not expecting me to confront them. They froze even more when they noticed Bryce was there too, eyebrow raised, clearly enjoying the drama. And before either of them could say a word, I took the floor.
"First of all, almost getting hit by a car isn't being dramatic—it's called a near-death experience, sweetheart. Learn the difference."
I shook my head slightly as I stepped closer, looking at them like they were a test and I was the top student ready to mark all their errors.
"Second—'not pretty'? That's the best you've got? Girl, don't embarrass yourself."
I smiled—the kind that would annoy them even more.
"Let's stop pretending, Samantha. Between the two of us, we both know who looks better. And the only reason you're trying so hard to drag me down… is because deep down, you already feel beneath me."
"You're saying I'm insecure?" Samantha shot back, clearly insulted, her voice laced with irritation.
"Exactly," I said, firm and unbothered, looking at her like I was peering into her ego. "Because if you were really confident, you wouldn't feel the need to prove it. Real confidence doesn't scream—it speaks in silence. And real beauty? It doesn't need a microphone. People notice it without you begging for attention."
Axel was about to defend her—clearly the kind of guy who'd throw fists just to defend his girlfriend's pride. But before he could open his mouth, I cut him off.
"And you," I turned to him, gaze unflinching, "have a filthy mouth."
I chuckled slightly—not out of amusement, but because I knew what I was about to say would sting.
"If you're going to tell the story, don't leave out the best part. Why don't you mention that… I knocked you over?"
I watched his face as the arrogance slowly faded.
"You got knocked down by a girl? HAHAHAHA!" Bryce laughed loudly—the kind of laugh that was pure mockery. Everyone turned to him.
"Oops, sorry," he said, raising his hand innocently. "I couldn't help it… I mean, you're huge and you got knocked down by a girl? HAHAHA!"
I laughed too, but quickly shifted my focus back to Axel.
Suddenly, Axel snapped—definitely in revenge mode. He shoved me lightly aside and stormed toward Bryce, looking like he was about to throw punches.
But Bryce? Totally unbothered.
Leaning back in his seat like this was just another scene in a movie where he was the lead. Smirking, eyes fixed on Axel, like he'd seen it all before.
"Relax, man. You're gonna get wrinkles." He grinned—cocky, charming, smooth.
The class burst out laughing. Some nearly fell from their seats; others exchanged looks filled with admiration and low-key crushes.
"What is it about Bryce that even when he's annoying, you want to root for him?" "He's got that protagonist energy!"
Axel's fist was clenched as he got closer. Without warning, he grabbed Bryce's collar and pulled him up. Bryce stood up from his chair but didn't fight back—just looked at Axel, still smirking, clearly unimpressed.
"You—" Axel's voice was low and sharp, his brow furrowed, barely containing his anger.
The whole class was tense—even I felt something cold crawling up my spine. I was about to intervene when—BLAG!
Zayden kicked his desk, just enough to make a loud crashing sound that echoed through the room.
"Uhhmm…"
He stood up slowly, posture straight, like he had his own spotlight. Everyone went quiet and looked at him.
He rubbed the back of his neck like he just woke up.
"Sorry... delayed reaction. My brain just got out of power-saving mode."
He didn't say much. Just stared at Axel—calm, composed, but his presence was undeniable. He didn't need to talk loud. One look was enough to say he wouldn't back down. The room was silent, but the air was heavy.
He looked Axel up and down before dropping a line—calm but heavy, like he meant every word.
"But seriously, bro… you might be dreaming."
He paused, then smiled. Not just any smile—the kind of arrogant smile that somehow made everyone swoon.
"Because as far as I know, no one can top… my handsomeness."
"WOOAAHHHH!" The class erupted into screams and cheers. "HE'S TOO MUCH!" "HE'S SO SMOOTH!" "HE'S ANNOYINGLY HOT!"
Even I—though still annoyed at him for constantly throwing sarcastic remarks at me every morning—couldn't help but smile a little.
So full of himself, Zayden… but damn.
Okay fine.
Pogi points awarded. Even if I didn't want to admit it, I was impressed.
His confidence—it wasn't loud. It didn't try hard. And with just one desk kick and a cocky line, the entire class went wild.
I don't know what was worse—that line he dropped, or the fact that… he wasn't wrong.
"Who even are you?" Axel asked, irritation mixed with surprise.
Samantha, her eyes sparkling with giddiness, whispered under her breath, "OMG… he's so hot."
The two—Axel and Zayden—locked eyes. The kind of stare that froze time. Everything slowed. It was like the entire world hit pause just to see who would break first.
From a noisy classroom, the room was suddenly dead silent. Like someone had hit the mute button.
Their eyes were inches apart. Not just anger—it was challenge, pride, and tension ready to explode.
The classmates who were laughing earlier stopped mid-breath. Others held onto their friends, frozen in place.
Everyone was silent. Even breathing felt wrong. You could feel it—fire was about to ignite.
And then—BOOM. "DA-DA-DA-DUNNN!"
My phone alarm went off. That epic anime battle theme one.
I swore out loud. "Son of a—oh crap—my alarm clock!"
Everyone looked at me. Some laughed. But before the tension could settle—
"ENOUGH!"
Boom. Enter: Prof. Gomez.
"This is a classroom, not a circus!" "You think this is funny? You think this is acceptable behavior? Where are your manners?" "Five students standing like they're in a street fight, and the rest of you watching like it's a soap opera!"
Silence. No one said a word.
"Mr. Gutierrez, Mr. Alcaraz, Mr. Zamora, Ms. Rodriguez, and Ms. Ferrer, each of you will write a formal letter of apology. Tomorrow, you'll stand in front of the class and read it. Out loud."
"Well… at least it's public speaking practice," Bryce muttered, smirking, clearly entertained.
I shook my head. "Shut up," I whispered back, trying not to smile at his corniness.
Prof. Gomez turned to Zayden. The room was silent, but the professor's stare was heavy.
"You're the class president, Mr. Gutierrez. And instead of stepping up, you joined the mess." "I expected more from you. Much more."
He looked around the room. No one spoke. A few students lowered their heads.
"You're in college—this is how you choose to carry yourselves?" "I'm deeply disappointed in every single one of you."
Still, no one spoke. The tension from earlier was replaced by shame and heaviness in the chest.
"Class dismissed."
And that was it. No further words. No questions. Prof. Gomez turned and walked out, leaving the room quiet and unresolved.