1: Apparently, He's Trouble
Everyone thinks they know me.
That’s the dangerous thing about having a reputation.
People stop seeing you as a person and start seeing you as a story. A carefully constructed version of you made up from assumptions, achievements, and whispers passed through crowded hallways. They don’t see the moments you struggle, the things you hide, or the parts of yourself you’re too afraid to show. They only see the version of you they’ve decided exists, and eventually, that version becomes almost impossible to escape.
Emma Hayes.
The girl with perfect grades and the color-coded notes. The girl whose assignments are always handed in early, whose test papers come back covered in red marks that sayexcellent, and whose name is almost always mentioned when teachers talk about their best students.
The girl who has never been sent to detention, never caused trouble, and never given anyone a reason to question her choices.
The girl teachers trust with everything, from leading group projects to representing the school at events because they know she’ll always be responsible, reliable, and prepared.
The girl who somehow manages student council meetings, volunteer work at the animal shelter, advanced classes, and a schedule most seniors would struggle to survive, yet still walks through the halls every morning with a calm smile and a perfectly organized planner in her hand, looking like she has her entire life figured out.
If someone at Westbrook High had to describe me, they would probably all say the exact same thing.
“Little Miss Perfect.”
I almost laugh every time I hear it.
Not because it’s funny. Because it’s so far from the truth that sometimes I can’t believe anyone actually believes it.
If they really knew me, if they saw the parts of myself I keep hidden behind perfect grades, polite smiles, and perfectly planned schedules, they would realise how wrong they are.
I’m not perfect.
I don’t have everything figured out. I don’t always know what I’m doing, and I definitely don’t have all the answers everyone seems to think I do.
I’m just really good at pretending I do.
My phone vibrates against my desk, the sudden sound cutting through the quiet of my room.
My stomach drops before I even look.
Because I already know who it is.
Noah.
Just seeing his name appear on my screen is enough to make my chest tighten.
A year ago, seeing his name would have been the highlight of my day. I would have smiled without even realizing it, picked up immediately, and wondered what he wanted to tell me. I would have replayed every conversation in my head, searching for hidden meanings in every word because, back then, hearing from him was something I looked forward to.
Now?
Now his name feels like a warning.
Like the quiet before the storm.
Like my body knows something my mind is still trying to ignore.
My stomach twists, my fingers hesitate, and for a second, I’m frozen, staring at the screen as if the name itself has the power to pull me back into a place I’ve been trying so hard to escape.
The message sits there unopened.
I don’t need to read it. I already know what it says.
Still, another notification appears.
Noah: We need to talk.
A second one follows almost immediately.
Noah: You can’t keep ignoring me, Emma.
I stare at the words on my screen until the light fades and the phone goes dark in my hand.
For a few seconds, I don’t move. I just sit there, staring at my own reflection in the black screen, wondering when things became this complicated. Then I place my phone face down on my desk.
Ignore him.
That’s what everyone tells me to do.
My friends.
My family.
Everyone who knows enough to see that something isn’t right.
They say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like ignoring a person means they suddenly stop existing. Like silence is enough to make someone let go.
But they don’t understand Noah.
The truth is, Noah doesn’t like being ignored. Especially not by me.
Because Noah was never used to me saying no.
He was used to me answering every call.
He was used to me explaining myself, apologizing first, and finding a way to fix things even when I wasn’t the one who broke them.
He was used to the version of me who always gave in.
I spent so much time trying to prove that I was worthy of love that I forgot something important, love was never supposed to feel like a test I had to pass. It wasn’t supposed to be something I had to earn by being easier to love, quieter during arguments, or more understanding when I was the one getting hurt.
The worst part?
Nobody knew.
Not my friends. Not my teachers. Not even my parents.
Because Emma Hayes doesn’t have problems.
Emma Hayes makes responsible decisions.
Emma Hayes knows better.
Emma Hayes definitely doesn’t stay in a relationship that slowly chips away at her confidence, her happiness, and the person she used to be.
She doesn’t ignore the warning signs.
She doesn’t make excuses for someone who hurts her.
She doesn’t lose herself trying to hold onto something that was already falling apart.
Except I did.
I stayed longer than I should have.
I convinced myself things would get better. I convinced myself that loving someone meant being patient, forgiving, and trying harder.
And now I’m left trying to figure out how to walk away from something I spent so long trying to save.
A soft knock sounds against my bedroom door before it slowly opens.
My little sister, Lily, peeks her head inside, her eyes immediately finding me sitting at my desk.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
I look away from the notebook in front of me. “What thing?”
She steps into the room, closing the door behind her before crossing her arms over her chest.
“The thing where you pretend you’re fine.”
The answer comes too quickly.
“I’m fine.”
I even force a smile to prove it.
A perfect one.
The kind I’ve spent years perfecting. The kind that convinces teachers, friends, and almost everyone else that nothing ever gets to me.
Lily just stares at me.
She doesn’t say anything at first, which somehow makes it worse.
It’s honestly annoying how someone who is only eight years old can read me better than most adults.
“You know lying is a lot less believable when you say it before anyone even asks, right?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the small smile that appears.
“Go do your homework.”
She doesn’t move.
Instead, she narrows her eyes at me like she’s trying to decide whether I’m worth arguing with.
“I’m telling Mom you’re avoiding your feelings.”
I turn toward her. “You wouldn’t.”
A mischievous grin slowly spreads across her face.
“I absolutely would.”
I grab the pillow beside me and throw it at her before she can say anything else. She lets out that familiar, ridiculously high-pitched laugh of hers as she easily dodges it, disappearing down the hallway before I can throw another one.
For the first time all day, I let myself smile without forcing it.
Then my phone vibrates.
Again.
This time, I look.
I don’t know why I do it. Maybe because some small part of me still hopes it won’t hurt. Maybe because a part of me is still waiting for the version of Noah I used to know to come back.
Noah: I saw you today. You looked happy.
My fingers freeze above the screen.
Because that’s the thing about Noah.
He always knew exactly what to say.
Not the obvious things. Not the things that would make everyone else suspicious.
The small things. The words that sounded innocent to anyone listening from the outside.
To everyone else, that message would probably seem sweet. Like he was simply noticing that I was having a good day.
But I know Noah.
I know the meaning hidden between the words.
It isn’t a compliment.
It’s a reminder.
A reminder that he notices.
A reminder that he’s paying attention.
A reminder that, even when I try to move forward, he’s still there.
I lock my phone and place it face down on my desk.
I’m done replying.
I’m done explaining myself.
I’m done defending my choices to someone who never tried to understand them.
I’m done letting someone else decide how I’m allowed to feel.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Because the truth is, walking away from someone isn’t always as easy as deciding you’re finished.
Sometimes the hardest part isn’t leaving.
It’s convincing yourself you’re allowed to.
..........................................
By 7:45 a.m., Westbrook High is already exactly how I expect it to be.
Loud.
Chaotic.
Alive with the kind of nervous energy that comes from hundreds of students pretending they aren’t completely overwhelmed by the fact that graduation is getting closer.
The hallways are crowded with people rushing to class, friends catching up after the weekend, and seniors talking about exams, applications, and the future like they aren’t secretly terrified of what comes next.
Lockers slam shut. Shoes squeak against the polished floors. Conversations blend together until the entire school becomes one constant wave of noise.
It’s familiar.
Predictable.
The kind of normal I’ve been desperately trying to hold onto.
I walk through the front doors with my planner tucked securely under my arm and a coffee warming my hand, following the same routine I’ve followed almost every morning for the past few years.
Because routines are easier.
They make everything feel controlled.
And today, more than anything, I need to believe I still have control.
I take a deep breath and convince myself that maybe today will be okay.
Then I hear my name.
“Emma!”
I turn around just as Sophie hurries toward me, her curly ginger ponytail bouncing with every step. A few strands of hair have already escaped, probably because Sophie has never been the type of person who worries about looking perfectly put together.
She’s been my best friend since first grade. The kind of person who has known me long enough to remember who I was before everyone else decided who I was supposed to be.
She’s also one of the only people who can tell when my smile is fake.
Well... her and Lily.
“You ignored me yesterday,” Sophie says the second she reaches me, skipping the usual hello completely.
I take a sip of my coffee, hoping the distraction will work. It doesn’t.
“Sorry, Soph. I was just a little busy.”
She gives me a look.
“You always say that.”
I shrug. “That’s because I’m always busy.”
Her expression doesn’t change.
It’s the look.
The one that tells me she already knows I’m avoiding the truth and is just waiting for me to admit it.
“You’re doing it again.”
I let out a quiet sigh. “Doing what, exactly?”
She tilts her head slightly.
“Pretending.”
I hate that word.
Because lately, it feels like everyone is starting to notice the cracks in the version of me I’ve spent years carefully creating.
The version who always has the right answer.
The version who never falls apart, never makes mistakes, and never needs help.
I’ve spent so long convincing everyone that I have everything under control that I almost started believing it myself.
But lately, the mask doesn’t feel as secure as it used to.
Before I can answer, a sudden wave of noise from the entrance catches everyone’s attention.
A group of students near the entrance doors starts whispering, and within seconds, the whispers spread through the hallway like they always do.
I glance over my shoulder, curiosity getting the better of me.
A guy I’ve never seen before is standing near the front office, talking to one of the teachers. He looks completely out of place, like he walked into the wrong building and doesn’t care enough to leave.
Dark hair that falls slightly over his forehead. A black hoodie despite the warm weather. His hands shoved casually into his pockets, his posture relaxed in a way that somehow feels intentional.
There’s something about the way he stands, like he’s completely aware that everyone is watching him, but he refuses to give them the satisfaction of knowing he cares.
Which is strange.
Because most people would at least try to look like they belonged.
Most people would try to make a good first impression.
He doesn’t seem interested in one.
“Wait,” Sophie says quietly, staring at me.
I look at her. “What?”
Her eyes are fixed on him again.
“You seriously don’t know who that is?”
I follow her gaze back toward the front office.
“No.”
She turns to me with genuine disbelief written across her face.
“Ryder Cole.”
The name means nothing to me.
But judging by the way the entire hallway seems to react, it clearly means something to everyone else.
“Who?”
Sophie lowers her voice, like saying his name too loudly might somehow bring him over here.
“He transferred here.”
I wait for her to continue.
When she doesn’t, I raise an eyebrow.
“That’s all?”
She gives me a look.
“No. Emma, he’s kind of a big deal.”
I glance back at him. “Why?”
For a second, Sophie hesitates. Like she’s deciding how much to say.
“Because he’s trouble.”
I study him again.
Honestly?
I don’t see it.
He doesn’t look like someone searching for a fight. He doesn’t have that arrogant, careless attitude people usually associate with guys like him.
If anything, he looks exhausted.
Like he’s already tired of being judged by people who don’t know him.
“He’s been suspended twice,” Sophie continues. “And apparently he got into a fight at his old school.”
“Apparently?”
She shrugs.
“That’s what people are saying.”
My eyes move back to the crowd surrounding him.
The way they whisper.
The way they watch him.
The way they’ve already decided exactly who he is before he’s even had the chance to introduce himself.
The funny thing about rumours is that people love them because they make things easier. They turn complicated people into simple stories.
A villain.
A hero.
Someone worth trusting.
Someone worth avoiding.
Nobody wants to admit that people are usually more complicated than the stories told about them.
The bell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Students begin moving toward their classrooms, conversations picking back up as everyone rushes to their next period.
But Ryder doesn’t move immediately.
For a moment, he just stands there, his eyes scanning the hallway.
And then, somehow, they meet mine.
It only lasts a second.
Maybe two.
But it’s long enough for me to notice something I didn’t expect.
He doesn’t look like someone who doesn’t care what people think.
He looks like someone who’s spent so long being misunderstood that he stopped trying to convince them otherwise.
Then his eyes move away.
And just like that, the moment disappears.
..........................................
By lunch, I’ve heard enough rumours about Ryder Cole to fill an entire notebook.
He’s a player.
He’s a fighter.
He doesn’t care about school.
He doesn’t care about anyone.
The usual.
My phone buzzes.
My smile disappears instantly.
Noah: We need to talk after school.
The words sit on my screen for a few seconds, heavy and unwelcome. I lock my phone before I can let myself overthink it and place it beside my lunch tray.
“You okay?”
I look up.
Ryder Cole is standing beside my table.
For a second, my brain seems to forget how to respond.
Up close, he’s different.
Not like the person everyone has been describing all day.
Not like the rumour.
Not like the problem everyone has already decided he is.
He just looks like a person. A person who happens to have a habit of noticing things he probably shouldn’t.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically. The answer comes out so naturally that I almost don’t realize I’ve said it.
His eyebrows lift slightly.
“That’s the third time today I’ve heard someone say that when they clearly aren’t.”
I blink.
“What?”
He shrugs.
“Nothing.”
He turns to walk away.
I don’t know why I stop him.
Maybe because I’m tired of people assuming they know me.
Maybe because, somehow, this guy I’ve known for less than a day just noticed something most people miss.
“Do you always randomly analyse strangers?”
He pauses.
Slowly, he turns back toward me.
A small smirk appears on his face.
“Do you always lie to strangers?”
I stare at him.
Nobody talks to me like that.
Nobody calls me out.
Nobody looks past the smile and actually questions what’s underneath it.
And somehow, Ryder Cole did it within five minutes of meeting me.
Before I can think of a response, he turns and walks away.
I watch him disappear into the crowd, trying to understand why I’m so bothered by the fact that he noticed.
The guy everyone warned me about.
The guy everyone already decided was a problem.
The guy who somehow saw through me before I even realized I was letting him.
..........................................
After school, I sit in my car for ten minutes.
Just staring at my phone.
Waiting.
Hoping.
That maybe, for once, Noah won’t show up. That maybe he’ll understand that silence is an answer.
But of course...
He doesn’t.
I see him through the windshield before he even reaches my car. He walks across the parking lot like he has every right to be there, like nothing has changed between us. Like he isn’t the reason I’ve spent months feeling like I’m losing pieces of myself.
He stops beside my door and leans against my car casually.
Like he belongs there.
Like he still has some kind of claim over me.
“Emma.”
My hands tighten around the steering wheel.
“Noah. Move.”
His expression changes.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Surprise.
Because I finally said no.
“You’re really doing this?”
I take a breath.
“Yes.”
He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe I’m serious.
“You’re throwing away everything we had?”
I swallow.
The words hit harder than I want them to.
Because once, they would have worked.
Once, I would have felt guilty.
Once, I would have started explaining myself, apologizing, trying to convince him that I wasn’t trying to hurt him.
But I’m tired of being that girl.
“I’m leaving.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“You don’t mean that.”
I look at him.
And for the first time in months, I don’t see the girl who stayed. I don’t see the girl who kept making excuses. I don’t see the girl who thought loving someone meant holding on no matter how much it hurt.
I see someone who’s finally ready to let go.
“I do.”
The silence between us feels different this time.
Because for once, I’m not waiting for him to decide what happens next.
I start my car.
And I leave.
The relief lasts exactly five minutes.
Because when I finally pull into my driveway, I notice something different.
The abandoned house next door isn’t abandoned anymore. Boxes are stacked on the porch. The front door is open. Someone is moving in.
And then I see him.
Standing outside his new house.
Watching me.
For a second, neither of us moves.
And I don’t know why, but something about that moment feels different.
Like my carefully controlled, perfectly organized life is about to become something completely different.
Something messy.
Something unpredictable.
Something I can’t plan my way out of.
Which would already be complicated enough...if the person standing next to me wasn’t the exact person everyone warned me about.
The bad boy.
The problem.
The mistake.
Ryder Cole.
And that’s Chapter One! ❤
I will publish a new chapter every week! Expect it on Saturdays/Sundays.
I’d love to know your thoughts so far! Don’t forget to like and comment!
