After a car accident, I woke up with a very unnecessary superpower-the ability to see percentages above people's heads showing exactly how much they like me. Love, hate, whatever. Emotional stats, live. It's like I became God, but only for relationship drama. And the first emotional slap in the face?
My own boyfriend... the man who's been writing 'I love you' like it's his catchphrase... had only 41% feelings for me.
Not even enough to turn orange. It was stuck in that depressing dead gray. I was basically dating a rainy Tuesday.
But the real nuclear bomb dropped when he walked in.
Enemy number 1, The man who wakes up every morning, brushes his teeth, and adds 'ruin Maverick's life' to his to-do list. The same enemy who once cheered when I tripped in the cafeteria.
The same one currently glaring at me like he's picturing my funeral invitation.
And his number? 97%. Bright red. Blinding. Romantic fireworks and wedding bells red. Excuse me?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S IN LOVE WITH ME?! IS THIS A COMEDY SHOW?!
Let's rewind.
It all started last night. After a few drinks yes, yes, crime, mistake, don't drink and drive, etc, I was driving home. I swear I wasn't that drunk-I could still tell Beyoncé from Rihanna, okay? I had conscious. And then BAM. Truck. Full anime moment.
I genuinely thought, Wow. Truck-kun's here. Time to transmigrate to a hot villain's body, right? Nope. Just the hospital. Two weeks. One broken leg. And now I can see romantic Wi-Fi signal bars over people's heads. Great.
Here's the breakdown:
Below 50%: dull gray indifference, dislike, possible hate.
50-70%: warm orange possible crush, friendship, polite 'I like your hair' vibes.
Above 80%: bright neon red wedding vows, passionate novels, biting your neck in a dark alley energy.
So I was lying in bed, annoyed but alive, when Jonas. my boyfriend of two years-walked in carrying a bouquet like he was auditioning for Boyfriend of the Year. 'Baby, I'm so glad you're okay,' he smiled, hugging me, forehead kisses and all. Normally I'd melt like chocolate in summer. But now? My heart was beating like someone handed it eviction papers as I stared at the disgusting little 41% above his head.
Excuse me.
What the actual hell. Is this the same man who said "I love you like breathing"? Forty-one percent?? He chases me for two years, finally gets me, and now I'm a midseason filler episode in his love life?
I couldn't stop staring at that number. It hovered like a rotting dead pigeon on my pillow. Gray. Lifeless. Lukewarm. Was I dating a soggy tissue? Apparently, yes.
I acted normal and smiled at Jonas like I wasn't mentally filing a break-up application in my head.
Then the door swung open again. Enter: Kyros Reeds, my best friend, my partner in crime, my biggest hater. Classic combo. 'You're still alive. Damn,' Kyros said, face like he just stepped in something wet. 'I was finally about to be free of your chaos.' He rolled his eyes, crossed his arms. Typical best buddy vibes.
I smiled wider when I caught the glowing number floating above his messy curls: 94%. As expected. My bestie loves me. Sure, it's 94% because the other 6% is still holding a personal grudge from when I accidentally exposed his crush on the campus heartthrob at that party last year. Whatever. I actually helped. They're still dating. I should get paid.
"I'm so happy to see you. I don't think I've ever been this happy-not even with pizza involved." I hugged him like a needy cat. Kyros sighed like a disappointed father but hugged me anyway, patting my hair like I was a dumb dog he accidentally grew attached to.
"How are you feeling now?'' Jonas asked from the side, still smiling. But now? His smile just looked like customer service energy.
''Fine,'' I muttered, pulling my head back and accidentally tugging at the bandage around my forehead. I winced. Good. Pain distracted me from the emotional betrayal happening in neon gray above my so-called boyfriend's head. Then the nurse came in to check me. And so did another person.
And that's when the universe decided to ruin my blood pressure permanently.
Kaiden Belmont. 6'3. Built like a slightly arrogant Roman statue. Wearing black-on-black like he's auditioning for the cover of Men's Fashion but Make It Dangerous. Black hair. Styled. Smirk: permanent. Energy: menace.
He strolled in, leaning on the doorframe like this was his hospital room.
"Glad you didn't die," Kaiden said, arms crossed, full model pose, stupid perfect jawline. "I'd be pissed if someone else killed you before I could." He smiled sweetly. Like arsenic in tea. I hate him
See, here's the thing: Kaiden doesn't just hate me. He HATES me. Like, push-me-down-the-stairs-daily energy. I'm talking: he once tried to frame me for stealing the biology exam just for fun.
He bullied me in fourth grade and never stopped.
So why. The actual hell. Is there a glowing, screaming, fiery, embarrassing, disrespectful 97% hovering over his stupid beautiful head???
Excuse me. System error? Did my ability glitch?? Did someone spill coffee on the emotional percentage server??
This machine is BROKEN.
'What? Happy to see me?' Kaiden raised his eyebrows, that smirk still glued to his face like bad wallpaper.
'Gosh, I don't wanna see your ugly face,' I muttered, already regretting not faking unconsciousness?
'Baby, ignore him. You just relax, okay?' Jonas said, adjusting my blanket like he was auditioning for Perfect Boyfriend Cinematic Universe. He smiled down at me-the kind of smile where people on TikTok comment 'SO IN LOVE OMG'-but honestly? It felt like watching someone butter toast while planning tax fraud.
And to make it worse I glanced at the percentage above Jonas's head.
39%. WHAT?!
When did it go down again?!
Is this number on SALE or something?? Why is it dropping like Bitcoin??
I gulped, my hand over my chest like I was suddenly in a Victorian novel. Steady, heart. Don't embarrass me more.
And then Kaiden casually pushed off the wall and started walking toward me like he had all the time in the world to commit murder.
'Why don't you lay down in a coffin already?' he said sweetly. 'I'll even help decorate it. I'm thinking velvet. Maybe black roses. After I cut you into neat little pieces first, of course.'
He tapped his chin thoughtfully, like he was picking paint swatches for my funeral. 'Honestly, I thought you were gone for real this time. Guess God's got a sick sense of humor. Hm should I go for poison next? You allergic to anything fun?' I blinked at him, horrified. The words were screaming I HATE YOU, but that number floating above his head said otherwise. 97%. Wait. 97.3%?! WHY IS IT INCREASING??
What the hell. What kind of glitchy romance game am I trapped in??
One man's smiling like he's ready to buy me a ring but has a love percentage lower than my phone battery.
And the other is literally planning my murder-but apparently wants to marry me in his spare time.
I dragged the blanket over my face.
This is some shifty romance plot. I didn't sign up for this.
God, just take me back to the car accident. Maybe Truck-kun will hit harder this time.
Later, Jonas finally left, mumbling something about work. Good. I barely even looked at him.
Didn't want him here anyway. He could take his 39% and go flirt with his spreadsheets. Kyros left too-said something about assignments. Translation: I dumped my projects on him again and his boyfriend's been texting him like a needy golden retriever.
Whatever.
That's what best friends are for. So now it was just me. And my older brother over at the counter, arguing with the nurse about insurance forms like a corporate lawyer on caffeine.
Which left me alone with... him.
I sipped loudly on my strawberry milkshake, eyes locked on Kaiden, standing there like he owned the air I was breathing.
'Why the hell are you still here?' I muttered, straw aggressively squeaking.
Kaiden smirked, hands stuffed in his pockets like some hot, annoying delinquent out of a drama.
'I can't leave you alone,' he said smoothly. 'If I leave, who's gonna kill you? Can't trust amateurs with that kind of art.' He raised one eyebrow like a smug villain monologue was loading.
'Shut up.' I glared. 'I'll kill you. Right here. Right now. It won't even take a minute to have you admitted next to me.'
I gritted my teeth around the straw, other hand twitching inside my jacket, ready to throw hands if necessary. Then-he stepped closer.
'The hell are you doing?' I hissed.
Kaiden smiled wider. 'Nothing. Just... saying this anger of yours-' His hand lifted, fingers curling lazily around the loose belt on my pants like we were suddenly in some cheap romance movie. '-It'd almost turn me on. Almost. But unfortunately, I hate you too much to enjoy it.' His gaze locked with mine, heat and irritation in equal measure.
'I'm gonna vomit. Don't you dare come closer.' I slapped a hand to his chest to shove him back, like I was pushing a tiger away with a toothpick.
He laughed. Laughed. Like a devil in Prada.
'Why not? I wanna stay close... wouldn't want to miss you when I finally murder you.'
'AH-YOU-!' I snapped, swinging a fist at his face.
But Kaiden caught it easily, like catching a butterfly mid-air, my whole hand swallowed by his big stupid monster hands.
I lifted my knee to try again-caught. Trapped. Now he had my whole pathetic fighting form pinned like a badly folded origami against the wall.
'Don't pull this stunt here,' he murmured, voice low, teasing, dangerous. 'This is a hospital. Not our battle ring, young master Maverick.'
He smirked. Like he hadn't just threatened to kill me again while holding me like a bridal carry gone wrong.
And then-'Tell me you two aren't fighting in the middle of the hospital hallway,' another voice cut in, smooth, low, and commanding. I froze. Of course.
Standing tall at the entrance, in a tailored black suit, glasses on, tie perfect, was my older brother-Matthew Wrenford.
Looking every bit like he was about to sue the hospital. And of course, he was taller. Slightly taller than Kaiden. Great. Genetics betrayed me yet again. My brother is 6'4 then why am I barely 5'9"? Standing next to them, I look like someone's younger cousin at family BBQs.
'Brother!' I snapped, pushing Kaiden off me like I hadn't just tried and failed to beat him up. 'He's annoying me again. I swear I'm gonna kill him today. Just give me ten minutes and a baseball bat.'
Matthew only sighed like I was his disappointing son.
'Not now, Maverick. Let's go. I need to talk to you.' His voice was calm, cold, boss energy. I hated that voice. It meant lectures.
'What, you're gonna scold me again? I told you-I wasn't drunk that night! It was that truck! Why don't you go find the truck if you wanna blame someone?'
Matthew's sharp gaze didn't waver. 'I'll find the truck. Don't tell me how to do my job. But from everything happening lately... I've realized something. I've spoiled you too much. I'm fixing that. Get in the car. Now.'
UGH. I wanted to yell he hates me, but no-I saw that 98% glowing happily over his head. He loves me. Loves me like someone loves their favorite dog that keeps breaking furniture.
O huffed, dramatically throwing my empty milkshake on the floor like a rebellious Victorian child, and stormed out.
Behind me, I heard Matthew and Kaiden make eye contact. One of those deep, silent stares that felt like they were mentally signing a war declaration.
Matthew left. Kaiden stood there cool, hands in pockets. And then, finally-Kaiden's smirk slipped. Just a little. His jaw tightened. His eyes... serious for once.
I don't know why that made my heart skip.
I hate him. I swear I hate him.
That day, I suffered the worst torture known to man: Matthew's lectures.
Not once. Not twice.
The entire day. Trapped in our family mansion like some rich heiress grounded for crashing daddy's sports car. And honestly-how is any of this my fault? Someone poisoned my drink. Not my fault. Someone tried to kidnap me. Not my fault. Someone keeps planning weird 'accidents' for me like I'm the villain in Final Destination. STILL NOT MY FAULT.
Apparently, it's my fault for being so damn lovable and rich. Wow. Sorry for having elite blood, I guess. It's not like I chose to be the weakness of the great Matthew Wrenford-the tycoon, the CEO, the man businessmen bow to and babies probably cry in fear of. His accomplishments are so long you could roll them out like toilet paper. People don't just fear him-they start shaking if he looks at them wrong.
But no one can touch him. Not even close.
So what do they do? Right. Target me.
His precious younger brother. His "one and only weakness." Me, the family embarrassment, living danger magnet, proud milkshake enthusiast.
Which means Personal guards. Separate drivers. Two cars at all times like I'm the Pope. Armed security at campus. Life on hard mode. Can't even go to the bathroom without someone asking if I need escort.
And yet-I just had to go all Fast & Furious at that stupid campus party last night.
Sneaked away from the guards like a Mission Impossible scene, stole my own car yes, I stole my own car, don't ask, because I was bored. I wanted thrill. Excitement. Air in my face. Music blasting. What did I get?
Truck. BOOM. Straight to hospital bed. Honestly, pathetic. My luck is garbage. My brother is annoying. If Matthew had his way, he'd stop my college, lock me in the mansion like Rapunzel, and hire seven different sword-wielding security teams to guard the towers. Oh-and don't get me started on my boyfriend, Jonas.
Matthew hates Jonas. Always has.
Every time Jonas comes over, Matthew looks at him like Jonas invented unpaid internships. I never understood why-
But now, after seeing that gray, disappointing 39% floating above Jonas's dumb beautiful head?
Okay. Maybe Matthew's onto something.
BUT-what really fries my brain is-
Why the hell does my brother seem totally fine with Kaiden? Jonas, who brings me flowers and says I'm cute? Hate him.
Kaiden, who openly threatens to murder me every time he sees me? Matthew's basically handing him the family WiFi password.
I don't get it.
I'm confused.
I'm suspicious.
"I'm feeling like burnt toast," I muttered, rubbing my face like a depressed Victorian orphan cat.
"Life can be like that," Kyros nodded sagely, like some wise old monk, except he was just holding bubble tea and wearing eyeliner like he's starting a punk band soon.
We walked down the hallway toward class. I looked like a wreck. Bandage on my forehead, pink hair all over the place like I lost a fight with a hairdryer, didn't even bother combing it. But-Dark green crop top. Cropped red jacket thrown over it like I'm about to steal someone's girlfriend. Tight ripped jeans with laces up the sides like I walked out of Vogue after beating up the editor. Waist? Snatched. Unfairly. The kind of waist Instagram filters cry over.
Face? A Greek tragedy. Beautiful, painful, unreasonable. Do I know I'm hot? Yes. Do I abuse that privilege? Also yes.
If you look like a gift from the gods, act like one.
Anyway-Kyros eventually ditched me to go drool over his boyfriend, and I let him. I had my own drama pending.
So there I was. Sitting on the bench like I was doing a tired photoshoot for an expensive perfume ad. Mind spinning, eyes dead, trauma setting in. People walked by asking if I was okay. And would you believe it? Almost everyone had good percentages for me.
Apparently, I'm likable. Beloved. Campus darling. Face of the week, personality of the month. Great.
I thought maybe, maybe, I'd survive this class quietly, focus on myself, heal emotionally, embrace peace-But of course NO. My life doesn't do peace.
Two men entered. My peace shattered in stereo. First up: Jonas. Mr. Campus Heartthrob, walking in like a walking romcom ad. Smile on. Perfect hair. Nice shoes.
All fake, just like that stupid gray 39% floating above his beautiful lying head. He came straight to me, flopping down next to me like he paid rent for my oxygen. Draped an arm around me. Whispered sweet, sugary nothings like-
"Baby are you sure you're okay? You've been through so much"
"Yeah," I thought, especially betrayal, thanks.
I hummed in response, eyes already tired, until-Cue dramatic villain music.
Kaiden Belmont.
Enter: chaos. Clad in all black like he was auditioning to be the bad boy in every Wattpad mafia story. The door barely finished opening before people started whispering, giggling, drooling, probably writing fanfiction live. And him?
Eyes locked on mine. Smug appearing like the second sun rising just to ruin my life personally. That smirk said exactly what I feared: Glad to see you survived. Didn't wanna miss round two. I glared at him.
He smirked harder. The audacity of this giraffe.
And then-then-I caught his eyes flick to Jonas' hand over my shoulder. And I swear, his jaw ticked just slightly before he looked away, strutting toward his usual bad-boy table like he pays rent to sit there and bully people emotionally. Two people, two different brands of headache.
One smiling at me like I'm his whole world, but the floating number says I'm barely his Netflix subscription.
The other glaring at me like he's plotting my demise, but the floating number screams "obsessed idiot in denial."
I sighed. I didn't come to college for this love triangle plot. I just wanted an arts degree, some nice clothes, and maybe a pizza.
Is that so much to ask?
Apparently, yes.
During class, the professor gave some complicated math question on the board and asked for someone to solve it. I was relieved when he picked me because Jonas was practically melting on me like I was his personal chair, and I was suffocating.
I practically jumped up, grabbed the marker, and solved it like I was solving life itself. With a flourish, I dropped the cap on the marker and shrugged. "It's easy as eating pie."
The professor beamed, praising me, and the class clapped. Except that one bastard, obviously.
Kaiden leaned back, crossed his arms, smirk ready like he owned the oxygen in this room.
That question was too easy. Even a ten-year-old could solve that. Don't be so overconfident, princess.
The marker flew before I even realized I threw it, aiming for his face. The worst part? The idiot caught it one-handed like he was auditioning for a Marvel movie.
The class cheered. The professor laughed. I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms like a sulking cat. Kaiden's smug smirk only deepened-and I swear his eyes dipped down to my waist like he was trying to memorize it.
"I wonder how old you are. Always getting worked up like a brat every time I breathe near you. Almost entertaining, really, except I hate you too much to enjoy it properly," he muttered, twirling the marker around his fingers like some drama king.
"Say that again. I dare you." I snapped, stalking over to him, gripping his stupid expensive jacket collar. He didn't even blink.
"I will keep saying it. I'm not on break, sweetheart. But maybe you should be. Easy there, young master Maverick," he whispered, low, smug, annoying.
I was ready to murder him with bare hands right there until the professor cut in whose percentage was 73% Oh my professor adores me too. I knew it.
"Okay, okay-you two, enough. Maverick, sweetheart, don't get worked up. You just got out of the hospital, it's bad for your head. Go sit down."
I sighed, shoved Kaiden off, and stalked back to my seat.
After class? I ran.
I didn't want to see Kaiden, didn't want Jonas near me, didn't want air near me. I escaped straight to the draping room. Fashion major life. My only peace in this cursed world: mannequins, fabric, designs.
I've won competitions. Designed my brother's company logo. Dresses, jackets, stage outfits-my mind is pure talent. My brother adores my work.
Today, I accidentally started sketching villain costumes that looked like rejected Harry Potter characters. Guess the anger was inspiring. Then, stomach growling, I ran to the cafeteria. It was packed. Jonas was already waiting with a seat saved, smiling like he didn't just annoy me for a whole week straight. I sighed but went anyway. Why? Don't ask me. Trauma bonding or stupidity-could be both.
But my eyes, stupidly, traitorously, looked for him. And there he was. Kaiden. Black clothes. One bench away, scrolling his phone like he wasn't the star of my villain origin story. Then-eye contact.
Smirk. I looked away like the dramatic beauty queen I am.
I glanced at the tray Jonas got for me. Bland food. No fun.
"I don't want this. I'm craving shrimp dumplings," I said, pushing the tray like a bored CEO pushing aside paperwork.
Jonas sighed, annoyed. He always sighed. He always hated when I wanted specific things. My brother? Gets me anything. Jonas? Acts like he's my manager. And honestly? Why was I with him again?
"I'm going to get what I want. Bye," I said, standing up, ready to storm off like a fashion magazine cover shoot.
But then-he grabbed my wrist. Tight.
"Maverick. Stop. Don't act like this in public," he hissed. "Just eat what's here."
"Who are you to tell me what to eat? What I want, I get. Who even are you to me?" I yanked my wrist, but his grip only tightened.
"I'm your boyfriend!" he snapped.
I stared at him. Hard. Slow blink.
"Yeah? A boyfriend who never listens to what I want, who says no to my cravings, who argues over shrimp dumplings. Guess what? I'm bored. Let's break up."
His eyes went wide.
"You're breaking up with me over food?"
I tilted my head, smiling sweetly like a vengeful Disney villain.
"No. I'm breaking up with you because I don't want you anymore. I dated you to annoy someone anyway."
My eyes flicked to Kaiden. His face? Blank. Serious. Cold. Calculating. What's going on in that messed-up brain of his?
I didn't wait. Turned on my heel, strutted out of the cafeteria like a main character in a drama.
Let them think I'm a heartbreaker. Let them talk. I'm Maverick Wrenford. Drama is my accessory.