Chapter 2

The next morning, as soon as I stepped into the classroom, I could tell something was off.

The air reeked of cheap perfume, laced with a whiff of malice.

My desk mate, Alison Quinn, the notorious tomboy in our department, had her feet kicked up on the crossbar of my chair, spinning her pen idly in her hand.

When she saw me, she let out an exaggerated shout. "Well, well, isn't this Paisley. Heard you're breaking up with that broke loser Blake, huh?"

A group of girls clustered around her, all bursting into shrill, mocking laughter.

Alison was rocking an oversized men's basketball jersey today, showing off her carefree attitude.

The jersey thought, 'Can she stop tugging at me? The collar's about to hit her belly button. Is that a super-thick bra pad in there? I'm dying of heat.'

I ignored her and reached for my chair.

Alison dug her foot in, hooking the chair leg so I couldn't move it.

She tilted her head, putting on her best provocative face. "Paisley, not to be mean, but you're way too much sometimes. Blake might be broken and have a bad temper, but at least he's a guy. Honestly, with your attitude, who else would tolerate you?"

"That's right." One of the girls chimed in. "I saw Blake working at the convenience store yesterday, hauling boxes and sweating like crazy. Poor guy."

Alison clicked her tongue. "Come on, a little sweat on a man is sexy. Paisley, you really think you're all that? If I were you, I'd cook and clean for him. After all, he has those fists of his, and he could knock people out."

I gave Alison a frosty stare.

The little pig charm dangling from her backpack rolled its eyes and thought, 'Jeez. She hung all over Blake at the convenience store yesterday, insisting on wiping his sweat, and Blake told her to buzz off. Now she's bitching around here.'

So that was it. Alison got told off, and now she was venting her frustration on me.

I grabbed the back of the chair and jerked it back suddenly.

The chair legs screeched against the floor, loud and shrill.

Alison didn't expect me to be that strong. Her foot slipped, and she almost did the splits.

"Paisley, are you crazy?" Alison shouted, her face red with anger as she stood up and pointed right at my face.

"Chairs are for sitting, not for you to prop up your dirty feet." I tossed my backpack onto the desk in a flat voice.

Alison's face turned beet red. As she was about to blow up, a sudden commotion broke out at the classroom door.

"Connor is here."

"Wow, Connor looks so hot today."

Then Connor Drake swaggered in, decked out in a loud designer suit covered in logos, his hair slicked back in a pompadour, twirling a Porsche car key like he was the king of campus.

He was a trust-fund kid, our department's notorious entitled show-off. He always assumed I rejected him because I was a gold-digger. Even though he never actually tried to pursue me, he kept flaunting his money every chance he got.

Connor swaggered over to my desk and smacked his car key down with a flourish.

The car keys thought, 'Hey, take it easy. I'm a rental. Scratch me, and you're out six hundred.'

I looked up at him, struggling not to burst out laughing.

Connor ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, giving me a once-over with that arrogant stare. "Paisley, I heard you finally wised up and ditched that junk-hauler?"

Alison slid right up, putting on her cutest voice and pretending to be all buddy-buddy as she gave Connor a fake-friendly slap on the shoulder. "Connor, don't be so harsh on Blake.

"Sure, he's broke, but... Okay, he's really broke. Paisley's single now, so this is your big chance."

Connor snorted, looking so smug that his nose could've scraped the ceiling. "Paisley, stick with me, and you'll be rolling in sports cars and eating at Michelin restaurants every day.

"If you say 'Blake's garbage' right here in front of everyone, you'll be the center of attention at my birthday party this weekend."

The whole class went dead silent, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the show.

Right then, the back door was kicked open with a loud bang.

Blake stood there, backlit by the morning sun, looking like Satan himself.

In his hand was a cup of coffee from the shop behind campus, the one I always had to wait half an hour in line for.

When Blake saw Connor standing in front of me, his gaze turned icy and menacing. He crushed the coffee cup in his hand until it bent out of shape.

The cup thought, 'Quit squeezing me. I'm about to blow. Nobody's even tasted the coffee yet. I'm still piping hot. It will burn your hand, man.'

Connor instinctively shrank back when he saw Blake, but then remembered he was rich and stood tall, acting all high and mighty again.

"Well, well, if it isn't the junk man," Connor sneered. "Are you here to deliver breakfast? You really think a couple of bucks for some coffee is something to brag about?"

Blake ignored him and walked straight up to me.

He slammed the coffee down on my desk, a few drops splashing out.

"Drink it." His voice was so intense, like he was making me drink poison.

But his old digital watch was freaking out in my head. It thought, 'Holy shit. That's creepy. Why is that sticky-haired guy getting so close to Paisley? Punch him.

'No, wait, Paisley hates violence. Keep it together. Don't let your hand shake. Ask if she's hungry, you idiot!'

I looked at Blake, his jawline tense and his eyes a little red from holding back his feelings.

That weird mix of feeling both sad and amused bubbled up inside me again.

Alison chimed in with a mocking tone. "Oh, come on, Blake, don't be so intense. Connor has his sights set on Paisley now. What's with the cheap coffee? This is gonna make her look bad."

Connor, encouraged by Alison's words, reached out to shove the cup away. "Take it away. It's hurting my eyes."

As his hand was about to touch it, Blake's head snapped up, his eyes blazing with a murderous glare. "Don't you dare touch it."