Tom's POV
Don't fall for her, Tom. She's with Tyler. Don't make that mistake again, my brain screamed at me, a warning I knew damn well I should listen to. But like the fucking idiot I am, I ignored it.
"Hey, give me your timetable," she said suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes bright with mischief.
"What? Why?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound casual, like my heart wasn't trying to punch its way out of my chest.
"I wanna see what subjects and periods we have together," she said, as if that was the most natural request in the world.
"I don't have it with me. It's on my phone," I replied, hoping that would end it.
"Then let me see," she pressed, her tone playful but firm.
I sighed, giving up. "Fine," I muttered, pulling my phone from my pocket. I typed in my password, opened the screenshot of my timetable, and handed it to her. Her fingers brushed against mine as she took the phone, and fuck I felt a spark shoot through me, sharp and stupid.
She skimmed the image with a smile. "Oh, we have English and Science together," she said, sounding way too excited for someone who just declared war on math. "And English is third. We can sit together, right?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "Wouldn't you rather sit with your girlfriends?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nah," she said simply, her lips curling into a small smile. "They talk too much."
I just stared at her for a second, trying to make sense of this girl who could be so bright, so kind—and still be the same one who worked with Tyler behind my back.
I shrugged, pretending like it didn't mean anything, like my chest wasn't doing somersaults. "Alright, fine," I said simply, turning my attention back to my notebook — but my focus was long gone.
She leaned back in her chair, satisfied, a soft hum escaping her lips as she started doodling in the margins of her notes. And all I could think, staring blankly at the board, was that I was completely and utterly screwed.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye that immediately made my stomach drop.
I shot her a wary look. "No… what are you thinking?" I asked, even though I already had a bad feeling about where this was going.
Her lips curled into a smirk. "Wanna get kicked out again?"
"What? Are you crazy?" I hissed under my breath, glancing around to make sure Mrs. Green hadn't heard her.
"Come on, Tom," she teased, leaning closer, her voice low and coaxing. "It'll be fine."
"No, it won't," I said flatly, trying to ignore how close she was, how her perfume was messing with my ability to think straight.
She groaned dramatically, slumping back in her seat with crossed arms. "Geez, you are no fun," she pouted, jutting her bottom lip out in exaggerated annoyance.
I tried not to laugh. God, she was infuriating — reckless, impulsive, and absolutely impossible to say no to. And yet, even as she sulked beside me, every fiber of me wanted to reach over and tell her to stop being cute.
I forced my eyes back to my notebook, pretending to focus, but it was useless. All I could see in my peripheral vision was her — arms folded, hair slightly tousled, lips pouting in irritation.
Fuck. She's cute even when she's angry. And I was in for one hell of a ride.
After class, I slipped out before Imogen could catch up, needing a damn breather. My head was a mess — her laugh, her stupid pout, that look in her eyes — all of it spinning around in circles. I just wanted one quiet walk to my next class. But of course, the universe had other plans.
Before I even made it halfway down the hall, a rough hand grabbed the back of my collar and slammed me hard against the lockers. The sound echoed through the corridor, metal rattling behind me. My chest tightened, and my first instinct was to swing, but then I saw who it was.
Tyler.
His jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring, eyes burning with that familiar mix of rage and hatred.
"What the fuck is your problem?" I spat out, my voice cracking with both anger and disbelief.
He shoved me again, harder this time, his face just inches from mine. "My problem is you, Fisher," he growled, each word laced with venom.
"The hell are you talking about?" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "I've done nothing to you."