The sleek black limo purred to a stop in front of Crown Height Academy's golden gates, and Sophia Harrington stepped out like she owned the place—because in many ways, she did. The sun caught the gloss of her raven hair, the sparkle of her diamond-studded watch, and the sway of her confidence. Cameras from students already turned toward her, a few snaps and whispers echoing down the courtyard.
"Smile, queens," Sophia said, flipping her phone camera to selfie mode. Bella, Olivia, and Chloe gathered at her side, striking effortless poses. The four of them together were a vision of wealth and power—the kind of girls that didn't walk, they arrived.
Bella adjusted her sunglasses and whispered, "Already trending on the first day. Hashtag: Crown Queens."
Olivia smirked. "Let them trend. They'll just choke on their jealousy."
Sophia tapped upload. Within seconds, likes and comments poured in, fans gushing over their outfits, rivals seething in silence. She tucked the phone away and lifted her chin, her eyes sweeping over the familiar courtyard. Same marble fountain. Same elite cars parked along the curb. Same stares that always followed her.
But there was one stare missing.
Noah Sinclair hadn't arrived yet.
"Stop looking for him," Chloe teased gently, nudging her arm.
"I wasn't," Sophia lied.
Bella laughed, looping her arm through Sophia's. "Sweetheart, you might fool the rest of the school, but not us. You've had Noah Sinclair on the brain since freshman year. If you don't shoot your shot this year, I will."
"You wouldn't dare," Sophia snapped, though her tone was playful. Still, the words sparked something sharp in her chest. Noah wasn't just a crush. He was inevitable.
The courtyard shifted then—gasps, squeals, the air thick with anticipation. A sleek black car rolled through the gates, windows tinted, engine humming low like a predator's growl.
He had arrived.
Noah Sinclair stepped out like a scene from a movie—tall, broad-shouldered, his dark blazer sharp against his crisp white shirt. His tie hung slightly loose, as if he didn't care for rules but knew he could bend them. His presence was colder than the autumn breeze, his eyes scanning the crowd without lingering.
And then came his squad.
Damian strolled casually beside him, his grin already flashing at a group of girls who dissolved into giggles. Adrian trailed behind, silent as ever, expression unreadable. Julian walked with that childlike brightness in his features, but anyone who underestimated him quickly learned his sharp mind cut deeper than any smile suggested. And Marcus—easygoing, mischievous—slapped Noah's shoulder like they were simply walking into another party.
The courtyard seemed to part for them. Students stepped aside, whispers rising like waves: "Noah Sinclair… crown prince… golden heir…"
Sophia's heart skipped, but she masked it with a smirk. "Finally," she whispered to herself.
Noah's eyes flicked once across the courtyard. For a fleeting moment, they brushed over Sophia. She swore she felt it—a flicker of recognition, the ghost of childhood familiarity. But then, just as quickly, his gaze shifted away as if she were nothing more than another face in the crowd.
Her jaw tightened. Oh, you'll look at me properly, Noah Sinclair. Sooner or later.
---
The first bell rang, and the courtyard scattered into the massive stone building. Crown Height Academy stood like a palace—gilded staircases, chandeliers glimmering in the grand hall, portraits of donors and alumni lining the walls. The school didn't just educate the children of billionaires; it trained them to rule.
Sophia walked at the center of her trio, their heels echoing in perfect rhythm. Students stepped aside, some with admiration, others with envy. The Harrington name carried weight here, and Sophia wielded it like a crown.
In the lecture hall, Sophia slid gracefully into her front-row seat. Bella, Olivia, and Chloe flanked her like a court. Behind them, the chatter rose—snippets of gossip about summer trips to Santorini, new sports cars, and secret scandals whispered only among the elite.
And then silence fell.
Noah entered, his squad trailing behind. He didn't glance around, didn't care for the whispers or the fluttering lashes thrown his way. He simply moved with quiet dominance, choosing a seat three rows behind Sophia. Close enough to be seen, distant enough to remain untouchable.
The teacher entered—a stern man in his sixties, his glasses perched at the edge of his nose. "Settle down," he commanded, the authority in his voice enough to silence even the most arrogant heirs. "Welcome back to Crown Height Academy. This year, you'll be tested beyond grades. It's time you proved yourselves as future leaders."
Sophia exchanged a knowing glance with Bella. Future leaders? That's already me.
The teacher adjusted his papers. "Which is why this year, you'll all be paired for the Elite Project. A test of intelligence, influence, and cooperation. Your performances will be monitored closely. Fail, and you fail the year."
Gasps and murmurs erupted. Pairing meant competition, strategy—and for many, their reputations on the line.
Sophia leaned back, unconcerned. "Whatever this is," she whispered to her friends, "I'll ace it. With or without him."
The teacher began reading names. One by one, students groaned, whispered, or squealed depending on their fates.
Then it came.
"Sophia Harrington," the teacher announced. "Partnered with… Noah Sinclair."
The room seemed to freeze. Heads turned. Whispers exploded.
Sophia's heart leapt so high she almost forgot to breathe. This was it. Fate, destiny, the universe itself agreeing with her. She didn't even bother to hide her smile.
Noah, on the other hand, sat stone-faced. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he gave nothing away.
---
After class, Sophia strutted toward him before anyone else could. She stopped just in front of his desk, her presence commanding attention. "Looks like we're partners," she said, her voice smooth with confidence.
Noah lifted his eyes slowly. They were a shade too cold for someone his age, like oceans frozen over. "Unfortunately," he replied.
The word stung, but Sophia only smirked. "You'll change your mind."
He stood, towering slightly over her, his blazer brushing past her shoulder as he walked away. "Don't waste my time, Harrington."
Her friends gasped softly behind her, waiting for a reaction.
But Sophia simply straightened, her chin high, a smile curling at her lips. "Game on," she whispered.
---
That evening, back in the Harrington mansion, Sophia lounged in her walk-in closet, surrounded by designer dresses and shelves of glittering heels. Her phone buzzed endlessly with comments from fans about her first-day vlog. Yet her mind replayed one thing: Noah's eyes, colder than glass, refusing to bend.
Her mother entered, holding a garment bag. "Darling, I had this custom-made for you. Something to wear at the gala next week."
Sophia perked up. "Perfect. Noah will be there."
Her mother arched a brow, amused. "Still chasing him?"
"I'm not chasing," Sophia corrected, sliding the dress from its bag. "I'm just… making sure he sees what's been his all along."
Her father's voice floated in from the hall. "Sophia."
She turned. He stood in the doorway, his expression calm but firm. "I heard about the project pairing today. Make it work with Noah. It would be beneficial for both our families."
Sophia's heart thrummed with certainty. See? Even Dad knows.
"Of course," she said softly, a smile tugging her lips. "I'm already doing my best."
---
Meanwhile, across town, Noah sat in his study, textbooks open but untouched. His mother entered quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't overwork yourself, darling. You're already carrying so much."
Noah leaned back, his eyes flickering with something unspoken. "I'm fine."
She smiled, brushing his hair back. "Just remember, you don't have to do everything alone."
When she left, Noah stared at his notebook, but his thoughts betrayed him. Against his will, his mind wandered back to a pair of confident eyes, a smirk that dared to challenge him, and a voice that had declared, Looks like we're partners.
He exhaled sharply, shaking the thought away.
Sophia Harrington was trouble.
So why couldn't he stop thinking about her?