Chapter 1
Sophie
6:45 AM. The alarm I set the night before has been ringing continuously for ten minutes, but I have absolutely no desire to get out of bed and start the first day of school—especially because it means seeing that idiot Noah Carter again. As if I didn’t already see him enough during the lunches and dinners our families organize, since, unfortunately for me, we’ve been best friends since we were kids. I stifle a scream into my pillow and, with very little willpower, drag myself out of bed to turn off that devilish device. Don’t get me wrong, I like school and love studying; I just don’t like getting up early, but I guess that’s part of the deal. Sighing, I walk to the closet to decide what to wear. I grab a gray turtleneck sweater, since it’s already cold outside, a pair of black jeans, black lace underwear, and head to the bathroom ready for a scalding hot shower. As steam fills the room, the hot water melts away my muscles stiffened from the night. Finished showering, I dress calmly and dry my long brown hair, letting it fall softly over my shoulders. As for makeup, I apply a generous coat of mascara to bring out my amber eyes, touch up my eyebrows, and add a swipe of lip gloss. I don’t use anything else because I’m lucky to have clear skin without pounds of makeup, and finish by brushing my teeth before heading downstairs for breakfast. As I head toward the stairs, I can already smell the delicious scent of my mother’s pancakes.
“Good morning, Mom!” I exclaim as soon as I enter the kitchen, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Good morning to you, sweetheart! I made the pancakes you like so much,” she says, returning the kiss. My dad isn’t in the kitchen, so I gather he left early for work. I finish my pancakes while checking my phone notifications:
Emily 🫶🏻
Come on, sleepyhead, it’s late! Senior year starts today! 🥳
Lily 🫶🏻
I hate all this morning cheer. Sophie, hurry up or we’ll be late. We’re outside!
I smile at my friends’ messages: I don’t know what I’d do without them. I hurry to grab my backpack and, after saying goodbye to Mom, head outside to find my friends right in front of me, wrapping me in a big hug as soon as they see me. Senior year has finally begun; who knows what will happen. After twenty minutes we arrive at school and, luckily, so far we haven’t seen anyone insufferable around. He’s probably busy making out with some girl he’ll throw away like trash later.
“So, Sophie, are you planning on making peace with Noah this year?” Emily asks me as the three of us head toward the lockers.
“Not a chance, not after what he did to me freshman year.”
“Well, but come to think of it, years have passed, no matter how badly he treated you,” Lily retorts.
They’re actually right, but unfortunately I don’t forgive easily—not when someone causes me such a deep wrong.
“Hey Bennett, happy first day of school,” I hear from a voice as familiar as it is utterly hateful. I turn around and find Noah standing in front of me, his blonde hair messy and his blue eyes fixed on me, alongside his two friends Ryan and Caleb, in all their arrogant glory.
“Carter, don’t you have anything better to do first thing in the morning?” I say, grabbing my books, slamming my locker shut, and walking toward our first class with Emily and Lily.
“Mmm, let me think... No, bothering you is definitely my favorite pastime,” he says with a laugh, followed by his friends. What a bunch of idiots, I think to myself, unable to understand what my friends see in them.
“Well, too bad for you, but I have to get to class. See you never.” I start walking toward the classroom where our first lesson is held, when Lily’s voice stops me.
“Um, Soph,” she says, reading our schedule sheets. “You, Emily, and I don’t have any classes together this year, but there’s something you need to know.”
Great, here we go. I’m definitely going to be in class with Noah.
“What is it?” I ask, stepping closer.
“You and I have all the same classes. This is going to be fun,” Noah says, laughing heartedly.
Things couldn’t possibly get any worse. His blue eyes glint with a sharp, provocative gleam as he takes a slow step toward me, closing the small distance between us. I catch his fresh scent, that touch of pine and open air that I’ve known since we were eight, and which now seems used deliberately to unnerve me. Lily and Emily exchange a bewildered glance, stepping back slightly to give us space.
“Don’t look at that paper like it’s your death sentence, Bennett,” Noah murmurs, tilting his head to the side. His voice drops an octave, turning into a whisper intended only for me. “Deep down, you should be happy. Who else could keep up with you all these months?”
“I do just fine on my own, Carter,” I retort, tightening my fingers around my backpack straps to hide the faint trembling of my hands. “And I suggest you stay in your lane. I have zero intention of putting up with your nonsense.”
His smirk widens, revealing the usual dimple on his cheek that I once found comforting, but now only makes my blood boil.
“Oh, I know that very well,” he replies, stepping even closer, near enough for his warm breath to brush the skin of my neck. “But the fun part is, you don’t have a choice.”
Before I can give him a sharp comeback, he takes a step back to enter the classroom, but a second before crossing the threshold, he stops and turns around abruptly. For a fraction of a second, his eyes lose every trace of arrogance, growing dark, intense, and indecipherable.
“Ah, one last thing... my mom confirmed we’re coming over to your house for dinner tonight. Get ready, Sophie. It’s going to be a very long year.”
The first-period bell rings piercingly down the hallway, driving students to flood into the classroom. I stand frozen on the threshold, my heart pounding hard against my ribs and a cold shiver running down my spine. I watch Noah walk nonchalantly toward the back row, tapping his fingers on the empty chair next to his while looking at me with a defiant smirk. The war hasn’t just begun. I have the terrible feeling that, this time, my defenses won’t be enough to protect me. Taking a deep breath to calm the accelerated rhythm of my chest, I force my feet to move. Every single pair of eyes in the classroom seems to follow my walk down the center aisle, but my attention is focused entirely on the back row. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me hesitate, nor do I intend to sit right next to him, giving him free rein to distract me for the entire hour. Instead, I pull out the chair in the adjacent row, placing a solid wooden desk and a narrow aisle as a boundary between us. I slide into the seat, unzipping my backpack with deliberate, precise movements, and neatly place my notebook and my favorite black gel pen on the shiny surface.
“Playing it safe, Bennett?” Noah’s low voice cuts across the space, soft and steeped in quiet amusement. He leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, his eyes tracing the line of my profile while I pretend to organize my highlighters. “I thought you were braver than that.”
“I’m here to learn, Carter, not to feed your ego first thing in the morning,” I reply without turning my head, keeping my voice dry and barely audible to anyone else. “Some of us actually care about our GPA.”
A soft chuckle escapes his throat, a deep sound that sends an unwanted shiver straight down my spine. “Right. The famous Bennett perfectionism. Glad to see some things never change.”
Before I can formulate a sharp reply, Mr. Harrison, our senior English teacher, claps his hands together in front of the class to get everyone’s attention. The lesson begins—a blur of syllabus details, reading assignments, and graduation expectations—but staying focused turns out to be an uphill battle. Every time I shift in my seat or raise my hand to answer a question, I can feel Noah’s gaze lingering on the side of my face, sharp and persistent. When I glance sideways for a fraction of a second, I see him idly spinning a pen between his fingers, his jaw set in a hard line, studying me with an intensity that takes my breath away. Gone is the lanky boy who once built fortresses with sofa cushions in my living room; in his place sits someone taller, broader, and dangerously unpredictable. A small piece of paper, folded neatly into a tight triangle, suddenly slides across the empty space onto the corner of my desk. I freeze, staring at it for a long second before opening it beneath the edge of the table.
Don’t look so stressed, Soph. I don’t bite... unless you ask nicely. See you at 7:00 PM.
I crumple the paper in my palm, my heart beating at a fierce, chaotic rhythm against my ribs as I stare straight ahead at the whiteboard. Seven o’clock couldn’t come fast enough, and yet, I had never dreaded a family dinner more than this in my entire life.
