Chapter 1
Chapter One
The Worst Possible Tuesday
By seven-thirty Tuesday morning, Chloe Monroe already knew the day was going to be awful.
Her Jeep was making a new noise.
Not the normal rattling noise.
A worse one.
The kind that sounded expensive.
“Absolutely not,” Chloe muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the faded green Cherokee jerked slightly at the red light. “You can fall apart later. I have school.”
The Jeep responded with a violent clunk beneath her feet.
Rain tapped steadily against the windshield while Chloe glanced at the dashboard clock.
7:42.
Late.
She reached for the coffee balanced beside her and discovered it had leaked all over the passenger seat sometime during the drive.
“Great”.
At least the seat already looked terrible.
Her phone buzzed in the cupholder.
NAOMI: If you’re not here in 5 mins I’m telling everyone you died.
Chloe snorted softly.
CHLOE: Jeep fighting for its life.
NAOMI: Again???
CHLOE: She’s dramatic.
The light finally changed.
Westbridge Academy came into view twenty minutes later through cold gray rain and wrought-iron gates.
The school looked less like a high school and more like the kind of place rich people sent their children to become senators.
Massive brick buildings.
Stone archways.
Perfect green lawns no one was allowed to touch.
And students pouring out of luxury SUVs wearing thousand-dollar coats like it was normal.
Then there was Chloe’s Jeep coughing smoke into parking spot twenty-seven beside the maintenance shed.
Character building.
She grabbed her backpack from the floorboard and checked her phone again.
One missed call from Rosie’s Diner.
Probably asking her to cover another shift.
Chloe closed her eyes briefly.
Between:
school, work, scholarship requirements, and trying not to fail calculus,
Westbridge looked impressive until you had to survive it
The second she walked inside, the building buzzed louder than usual.
Students crowded the hallways whispering over phones.
Girls were fixing their hair in locker mirrors.
Even the teachers looked irritated.
Naomi appeared beside her locker holding two iced coffees and an expression that usually meant drama.
“You’re never going to believe this.”
Chloe accepted the coffee immediately. “If this sentence involves math, I’m leaving.”
“It involves a British athlete with anger issues.”
“…What?”
Naomi leaned closer dramatically.
“Asher Thorne transferred here this morning.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar.
Chloe opened her locker. “Should I know who that is?”
Naomi stared at her like she’d admitted illiteracy.
“International soccer player?”
Blank stare.
“Massive celebrity?”
Nothing.
“British?”
“That narrows it down.”
Naomi groaned. “Oh my God, Chloe. He’s everywhere right now.”
“Why?”
That expression shifted slightly.
“There was some scandal.”
Now THAT got Chloe’s attention.
Westbridge students loved two things:
Ivy League acceptances, and public humiliation.
“What kind of scandal?” Chloe asked.
Naomi lowered her voice.
“Apparently he attacked a photographer.”
Chloe paused halfway through pulling out her calculus book.
“Attacked?”
“Outside some restaurant in London. There are videos everywhere.”
“Hm.”
“That’s your reaction?”
“What reaction do you want? Rich famous guy discovers consequences?”
Naomi grinned. “You’re in a terrible mood.”
“I slept four hours and Coach Reynolds emailed me a question mark after my calc quiz grade.”
“That’s not good.”
“Thank you.”
The warning bell rang overhead.
Students ignored it completely.
Because suddenly screaming erupted near the front lobby.
Chloe looked up slowly.
A swarm of girls moved toward the entrance with phones already raised.
“I’m running out of energy for this.”
Naomi grabbed her sleeve immediately. “Wait.”
“For what?”
“You have to see him.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Just one look.”
“I’m failing derivatives, Naomi. I don’t have time for celebrity sightings.”
But Naomi was already pulling her toward the crowd.
The front lobby looked insane.
Students packed shoulder-to-shoulder near the staircase while two administrators attempted—and failed—to restore order.
Someone near the doors whispered:
“Oh my God, there he is.”
The crowd shifted.
And Chloe finally saw him.
Tall.
Dark hair curling slightly at the ends from the rain.
Black coat.
Black hoodie underneath.
Head lowered slightly while Headmaster Whitmire spoke beside him with the exhausted expression of a man seconds from cardiac arrest.
But none of that was the thing Chloe noticed first.
It was the tension in him.
Even surrounded by screaming girls and flashing phones, Asher Thorne looked completely detached from all of it.
Like he genuinely did not want to be there.
A girl shoved a phone toward him excitedly.
Asher glanced at it once.
His jaw tightened immediately.
Not annoyed.
Angry.
The girl backed away so fast she nearly ran into someone else.
Naomi looked thrilled beside her.
“You see it now, right?”
Chloe crossed her arms.
“He looks miserable.”
“That too.”
Another phone flash went off nearby.
Asher looked up sharply toward the crowd this time.
For one strange second, his eyes locked directly onto Chloe’s.
Not Naomi.
Her.
And unlike everyone else in the lobby—
She wasn’t filming him.
The noise around them suddenly felt weirdly distant.
Then somebody behind Chloe shoved forward hard enough to knock into her shoulder.
Her coffee slipped from her hand instantly.
Straight onto Asher Thorne’s shoes.
The lobby went silent.
“Ooops”.
Chapter Two
Damage Control
By lunch, Chloe Monroe had officially become part of the scandal.
But apparently spilling iced coffee on an internationally famous soccer player in front of half the school counted as a major social event at Westbridge Academy.
“I still think you should transfer,” Naomi said helpfully.
Chloe dropped her forehead against the cafeteria table.
“I’m surrounded by idiots.”
Across the room, at least three girls were openly staring at her while pretending not to.
Whispering.
Judging.
One of them actually looked offended on Asher Thorne’s behalf, which felt ridiculous considering the man had survived the coffee incident just fine.
Mostly because he’d barely reacted.
That somehow made it worse.
Naomi shoved her phone across the table.
“Look.”
Chloe already knew this would ruin her day.
Sure enough, Madison Pierce had posted:
RIP to the girl who poured coffee on Asher Thorne before first period 😭
The comments were somehow worse.
WHO WAS SHE???
THAT’S CHLOE MONROE.
THE SCHOLARSHIP GIRL???
She closed her eyes slowly.
“Fuck my life”
Naomi looked delighted. “You’re trending.”
“I spilled coffee.”
“You spilled coffee on a celebrity.”
“I spilled coffee on a person.”
Around them, the cafeteria buzzed louder than normal. Every conversation somehow circled back to:
Asher, the scandal, or speculation about why he transferred to Westbridge in the middle of senior year.
Nobody actually knew anything.
“That had never stopped anyone at Westbridge before.”
“I heard he punched a paparazzi guy unconscious,” somebody whispered nearby.
“No, I heard his dad paid the school to take him.”
“My cousin said brands dropped him already.”
Naomi leaned closer. “See? Mysterious.”
“See? Exhausting.”
The cafeteria doors opened again.
Almost immediately, the noise shifted
Like everybody suddenly remembered how to breathe incorrectly.
Asher walked in wearing another black hoodie beneath his uniform blazer like the dress code personally offended him.
A few girls visibly straightened when he passed.
One nearly walked into a chair.
Chloe stared at her calculus packet. Math suddenly seemed like the less painful option.
Naomi watched him openly.
“Okay, no, I get it now.”
“Please stop saying that.”
“He looks like he’s been expelled from at least three schools.”
“That is not a compliment.”
“It kind of is.”
Chloe understood what she meant.
Asher wasn’t polished the way Westbridge boys usually were.
No fake charming smiles.
No loud confidence.
No trying too hard.
If anything, he looked irritated to be here at all.
A group of girls approached him near the drink station holding phones.
One girl asked for a picture.
Even from across the room, Chloe saw the shift in him immediately.
“Not today,” he said quietly.
Not rude.
Not friendly either.
The girls walked away disappointed.
Before Chloe could look away, Asher glanced across the cafeteria.
Straight toward her table.
Naomi noticed instantly.
“He’s coming over here.”
Chloe nearly choked on her drink. “Why would he—”
Too late.
Asher stopped beside their table with one hand shoved into the pocket of his hoodie.
Up close, he looked even more unfairly attractive.
Tired eyes.
Dark lashes.
Sharp cheekbones.
And a faint bruise near his jaw Chloe hadn’t noticed earlier.
Probably from soccer.
Or scandal.
Hard to say.
Naomi looked like she might pass away.
Chloe looked up slowly.
“Yes?”
“You missed my shoes,” Asher said.
Naomi made a choking sound beside her.
Chloe blinked once. “You came over here to insult my aim?”
“You practically launched it.”
“I dropped it.”
“Mm.”
That quiet little sound somehow felt judgmental.
Chloe gave him a look. “You know, most people at this school would’ve framed those shoes by now.”
“Westbridge students aren’t stable.”
“I noticed.”
A small smile appeared for maybe half a second before disappearing again.
Quick enough Chloe almost thought she imagined it.
Naomi stood abruptly. “I suddenly need food.”
“Naomi—”
She vanished into the lunch line immediately.
Chloe looked back at Asher flatly. “She abandoned me.”
“She seems smart.”
“That’s the first intelligent thing anyone’s said here all day.”
For a second, he looked almost amused.
Then a loud voice cut through the cafeteria.
“Asher!”
Madison Pierce approached their table with three girls trailing behind her like backup dancers.
Madison smiled brightly. “We’re all going to Luca’s party Friday. You should come.”
Asher barely glanced over at her.
“I’m busy.”
“You don’t even know what time it starts.”
“I’m still busy.”
One of Madison’s friends looked horrified by the rejection.
Madison recovered quickly though. “Well, if you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
Chloe looked down at her worksheet immediately before her face accidentally betrayed amusement.
Madison finally noticed her sitting there.
Her expression cooled slightly.
Then Madison turned and walked away with her friends whispering behind her.
The second they disappeared, Chloe muttered:
“That was painful.”
Asher pulled out the chair Naomi abandoned and sat down across from her without asking.
Which should not have been attractive.
“It happens a lot,” he said.
“Girls throwing themselves at you?”
“People expecting me to perform for them.”
Before Chloe could answer, Coach Reynolds appeared beside the table.
The soccer coach looked directly at Asher.
“Training after school,” he said. “Field at four.”
Asher nodded once.
Then Coach Reynolds looked at Chloe.
“And Monroe?”
She already disliked this conversation.
“Your calculus grade is still terrible”
Chloe sat up straighter immediately. “It’s not terrible.”
“It’s a seventy-three.”
“That’s one quiz.”
“In my class, that’s tragic.”
Asher glanced toward her worksheet.
Chloe pointed at him instantly. “Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You look like you want to.”
A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
.
