"You guys… will not believe who Mr. Dawson made my project partner for the college recommendation."
Bella blinked, mid-sip of her iced tea. "Wait. College recommendation? What does Mr. Dawson have to do with that? Wasn't Mrs. Penelope writing yours?"
I sighed, setting my tray down on the lunch table and sliding into the seat beside her. Josh was already across from us, lazily biting into an apple, half-listening — until Bella asked the question.
"She was supposed to," I said, picking at my salad like it had personally offended me. "But apparently, she's got too many students requesting her, so… she passed me off to Mr. Dawson."
"Oh no," Bella muttered, already seeing where this was going.
Josh raised an eyebrow. "So… who's the unlucky soul that got paired with our sweet Avaline?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Alex Worthington."
Josh choked so hard on his apple he nearly fell off the bench. Coughing, he pounded his chest like a cartoon character while Bella blinked twice, then gasped dramatically.
"No. No! You're lying."
"I wish I was," I muttered.
Josh finally recovered, wheezing. "Alex? Are we talking about the same guy who acts like he's allergic to smiling?"
Bella threw her hands in the air. "This is a nightmare. A full-blown academic nightmare."
"Thank you," I said, pointing at her like she finally got it.
"Well," Bella said, still reeling. "How did that happen?"
I exhaled slowly, as if retelling it might somehow erase it.
"Okay, picture this morning. I was already late — barely had time to brush my hair, let alone eat. I get to Mr. Dawson's office, totally out of breath, and I knock. He just says, 'Come in,' and I do."
I paused for effect, glaring into the air like the memory offended me.
"And there. There! In Mr. Dawson's chair — like he owned the place — was Alex Worthington. Legs crossed, arms behind his head, looking like he'd just bought the school or something."
Josh snorted. "Sounds like him."
"He looked at me like I'd just stepped in something unpleasant," I continued. "Didn't say a word. Just stared at me with those cold, smug eyes."
Bella leaned forward. "What did Mr. Dawson say?"
"Oh, he dropped the bomb like it was nothing. Just goes, 'Miss Beaufort, Mr. Worthington is your project partner. And Mr. Worthington, Miss Beaufort is your partner.' Like he was assigning seats, not academic fate."
Josh burst out laughing again. "I would pay to see both your faces."
"Same," Bella said, grinning.
"I wanted to disappear," I said flatly. "He just kept staring at me like I wasn't even worth the oxygen in the room. And then — and then — Mr. Dawson goes on about how the project's due in two weeks because the earlier we submit it, the better our chances for a strong recommendation."
"Two weeks? That's nothing," Bella said, appalled.
"Exactly," I groaned. "And as soon as we stepped out of the office, he just had to open his mouth."
Josh leaned in, curious. "What did he say?"
A shiver of annoyance ran down my spine just remembering it.
"He looked at me and goes, 'Wow, you again? Do you follow me around or something?' Like I planned it."
Bella gasped. "The nerve."
"I gave him a look that could melt steel," I said. "Then he mumbled something about how he hopes he'll survive the next two weeks."
"What did you say back?" Josh asked, eyes twinkling.
"I said, 'Same here.' And walked off."
Josh chuckled. "Classic Ava."
Bella shook her head, visibly stressed. "This is bad. You know that, right?"
"I know," I said dramatically, slumping in my seat. "I already feel like I'm losing brain cells."
I turned to Josh. "It's been forever since we've talked."
"It's been three days," he said with a smile. "There was a whole celebration thing, remember?"
"Still counts as forever."
I paused, then muttered, "And now I'm stuck with Alexander Worthington. For two weeks."
Josh shrugged, reaching for another slice of apple. "He's not as bad as you think."
I gave him a flat stare. "Excuse me?"
Josh laughed. "Don't kill me. I'm just saying — yeah, he acts like he's above everyone, but he's actually decent when you get to know him."
Bella snorted. "Wow. Josh is defending the Ice Prince. What's happening to the world?"
Josh grinned. "He invited me to that party this weekend. First-line player celebration thing."
Bella clutched her chest dramatically. "Oh wow. Look at you, getting invited to the big-boy table."
"Jealousy doesn't suit you," Josh shot back with a smirk.
"She's not jealous," I muttered. "She's just surprised you're willing to go hang out with him."
"Well, I told him I might bring some friends, and he didn't mind."
Josh looked between us expectantly.
"No thank you," I said immediately, arms folded.
Bella burst out laughing. "That was the fastest rejection I've ever heard."
Josh raised his hands. "Alright, alright. Just saying. Might not be so bad."
But I wasn't convinced. Alexander Worthington was bad news — prideful, arrogant, and apparently allergic to basic human decency.
And now… he was my partner.
Heaven help me.
---
— ALEXANDER
I don't wait on people.
And yet, there I was — sitting in Mr. Dawson's dull, under-decorated office, leg crossed, elbow on the armrest like it was my own private study, waiting.
I checked the time. Again.
7:58 a.m.
Two whole minutes early. Because when Mr. Dawson called me with that "special project opportunity," he made it sound urgent. Important. Elite.
He promised it could lead to a personal recommendation. Straight from him. The man with Ivy League contacts. He said it like I wasn't already drowning in options, but hey — another feather in the Worthington cap never hurt anyone.
So I showed up.
"Mr. Dawson," I said, eyeing him from across the desk. "Is my partner running late? Or are they just trying to make an impression?"
He gave me that dry little smile of his. The one teachers use when they think they're clever. "She'll be here shortly."
She?
That's when it hit me.
Oh.
So it's a girl.
Great. That narrows it down to about five hundred possibilities, none of which inspire confidence.
I leaned back in the chair and sighed. "Any chance she's actually smart?"
Mr. Dawson didn't answer. Which said enough.
Most of the girls at Victoria are more concerned with contour and TikTok dances than college applications. I've been in enough group projects to know that. I do the work, they slap a heart sticker on it and call it teamwork.
A knock echoed at the door.
"Come in," Mr. Dawson called.
I didn't bother to turn my head. I already knew what this would be. Some overdone perfume, sparkly binder, probably a loud voice and fake laugh.
But it wasn't perfume. Or glitter. Or heels.
It was her.
Avaline Beaufort. The quiet girl who wears cardigans like armor and looks like she's carrying the weight of the world in her oversized backpack. She walked in like she didn't want to be seen. Unfortunately for her — and for me — I saw her perfectly.
She froze the second her eyes landed on me.
Good.
The feeling was mutual.
I stared at her with measured disinterest, masking my actual horror.
Her?
Of all people?
Mr. Dawson smiled like this was a lovely little surprise. "Miss Beaufort, Mr. Worthington is your project partner. And Mr. Worthington, Miss Beaufort is yours."
My jaw didn't drop. But internally? I was spiraling.
This was the big opportunity? Working with a girl who probably reads poetry for fun and gets anxiety attacks when someone raises their voice?
I turned to look at her fully, letting the chill settle into my gaze. "You've got to be kidding me."
She blinked up at me, clearly thinking the same thing.
Mr. Dawson, oblivious or pretending to be, carried on. "The project is due in two weeks. The earlier you submit it, the better your chances at a strong recommendation."
Two weeks. With her.
I stood as soon as he dismissed us, brushing imaginary lint off my blazer like I needed to cleanse myself of the moment. As soon as the door clicked behind us, I said it.
"Wow. You again? Do you follow me or something?"
She gave me a glare like I'd insulted her ancestors. Which, honestly, was kind of amusing.
I kept going. "Look, just don't slow me down. This recommendation matters. So try not to be… whatever it is you usually are."
She didn't say anything for a second. Then she said, innocently, "Of all people… you."
"Trust me," I said, flashing a tight smile, "I'm more surprised than you are. But hey — if I survive the next two weeks without losing brain cells, maybe I'll consider it a miracle."
She narrowed her eyes. "Same here."
Then she walked off like she couldn't stand another second in my presence.
Honestly?
The feeling was mutual.
But still… there was something about the way she looked back. Like she wasn't scared of me. Like she hated me, sure — but not in the dramatic, desperate way most people do.
It was… different.
Annoying.
But maybe — just maybe — this wouldn't be boring after all.
--- AFTERNOON--
ALEXANDER –
The sun was lazy overhead, filtering through the cream umbrella shading our cabana. The sound of the pool rippling in the breeze almost made me feel like I could enjoy this stupid day.
Almost.
Theo lounged opposite me, one leg tossed over the armrest of the chair like he had nothing better to do than waste oxygen and annoy me. He sipped a lemon water like it was champagne and raised a brow. "So... did Dawson finally assign you that project partner, or is he still soul-searching for your intellectual match?"
I didn't look up from my phone. "He did."
Theo sat up slightly, interest piqued. "Oh? And?"
I tossed my phone aside and leaned back. "It's a girl."
He blinked once. "That's it? 'A girl'? Should I alert the press?"
"She's... I don't know," I muttered, rubbing my jaw. "Quiet. The kind of quiet that feels like she's actively trying to disappear."
Theo snorted. "So a ghost."
"Basically."
He leaned forward, grinning. "Okay but like, which ghost? There are at least thirty wallflowers at Victoria. Give me something."
I shrugged. "She looks like she reads for fun. The cardigan-wearing, hair-always-tied-back type. Walked into Dawson's office like she was about to be sentenced to death."
Theo let out a low laugh. "You really know how to paint a picture."
"She didn't say much. Just kind of stared at me. Like I'd personally offended her entire bloodline by existing."
"Did you?"
"Not yet."
Theo threw his head back. "So wait. She's invisible, anxious, and already hates you? Sounds like true love."
I gave him a withering look. "Shut up."
"I'm just saying—this is the plot of every dramatic romance novel my sister reads. Rich boy. Shy girl. Mutual loathing. Add some rain and a forced group project, and boom—soulmates."
"Except she doesn't speak. And I don't care."
Theo smirked. "Sure. And yet here you are, telling me about her. Voluntarily."
I ignored that.
He studied me with faux seriousness. "So, you've never noticed her before?"
"Not really," I said. "I mean, maybe I've seen her around. But she's just… one of those people who blends into walls."
"Well," Theo said, reclining with a smug grin, "guess she's blending into your life now. Two weeks, right?"
"Two painfully long weeks."
He raised his glass. "To the mystery ghost girl haunting Worthington's academic future."
I stared up at the umbrella above us, exhaling slowly. "If I make it through this without losing my mind, I want a reward."
"I'll get you a cardigan."
---
TUESDAY EVENING
---AVALINE---
By the time I got home, my head was pounding, and my feet felt like I'd run a marathon through emotional landmines. Alexander Worthington as my project partner? Seriously?
I dumped my bag at the foot of my bed, peeled off my uniform, and headed straight to the shower. The hot water poured over me like relief — washing away the stress, the awkward glares, the memory of Mr. Dawson's ridiculous announcement echoing in my skull. When I stepped out, skin warm and hair wrapped in a towel, I threw on my softest nightgown — the pale blue one that was two sizes too big and ten times more comforting because of it.
I had just settled into my bed when my phone buzzed.
Bella 💅:
> Soooo... party on Saturday night. Don't pretend you didn't hear. 👀🎉
Me:
> You know my mum won't let me out at night.
And I'll be tired. I have work that morning.
Bella 💅:
> Girl. Come ON. You can tell her you're staying over with me. 👀👀
You need this party. Energy cleanse. Vibes. Drama. Romance.
Also, Josh says he didn't say anything, but he's literally begging me to beg you.
Me:
> Classic Josh.
And why would I go to a party hosted by someone I can barely look at?
Bella 💅:
> Wait… don't tell me it's his party??
No. Shut up. Is it Alex Worthington's party? 💀💀💀
Me:
> Exactly.
And I want absolutely nothing to do with him. Zero. None. Zilch.
Bella 💅:
> That makes it even better. We're going. We'll all talk on Friday. No arguing.
And FYI, you won't even see him much — it's a huge place. He'll be brooding in a corner somewhere, judging the punch.
Me:
> You're too confident. It's annoying.
Bella 💅:
> It's my gift.
Friday, we plan. Wear something Ava-level hot. I'm not asking again.
I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone onto my bed and yes I know Bella was pretending not know it was Alex's party. My fingers still tingling from the conversation. Bella had that effect. She was a walking hurricane of glitter, sass, and persistence — the type of friend who dragged you into life when you'd rather hide under a blanket.
I stood and walked toward the small wooden table by my window — my makeshift mini library. Even though my day had been filled with noise and tension, this corner of my room always brought me back to myself.
My fingers drifted along the worn spines until I pulled out Othello. Again. Some stories just… stayed with you. The ones you didn't just read — you felt them.
I curled up into my reading chair, the night air brushing softly through the curtains.
Reading wasn't just a hobby. It was home.
Books taught me about people. About emotions. About love — the reckless kind, the tragic kind, the slow-burning kind that smolders between pages. Even the parts I didn't fully understand, like how sex could be something deeper. Something... connecting. Tying two people together in ways I'd only read about. Still, it made sense in stories. More sense than in real life, sometimes.
Books made everything easier to process — even heartbreak.
I flipped to the first page and exhaled.
Back to the world that made sense.