The thing about being dropped off at school by a handsome college guy in a sleek car is—it's basically a public declaration of chaos.
I didn't realize this at first. I thought I could sneak out of the car with quiet, casual dignity. Maybe one or two people would see. Maybe someone would assume I had an older cousin visiting. Harmless. Forgettable.
I. Was. Delusional.
Because the second Raven's car pulled up outside the school gates—engine smooth, windows slightly tinted, exterior somehow too clean for a real human—a ripple went through the courtyard like someone had thrown a brick into a pool of thirsty gossip.
A few kids turned.
Then a few more.
And by the time I opened the door, every head within a 50-foot radius was craned like giraffes at a celebrity zoo.
Raven leaned across the center console, totally unaware (or totally unbothered) by the panic detonating inside my chest.
"Want me to pick you up after?" he asked, casually, like he wasn't triggering a social earthquake.
I blinked. "What?"
"School. Ends at three, right?"
I swallowed, vaguely aware of phones being raised and camera apps being opened in the periphery of my vision.
"Yeah," I said. "Cool. I mean—sure. If you're not busy."
He nodded. "I'll be around."
I got out quickly, shut the door behind me, and did not—did not—look back.
But I did hear the murmurs start the second I stepped away.
"Oh my God, did you see him?"
"Was that her boyfriend??"
"That guy was definitely, like, twenty."
"I think I'm pregnant just from looking at him."
I was one staircase away from faking an asthma attack and hiding in the janitor's closet when it happened.
Leah.
Queen of hallway drama. Cheer captain. Collector of followers with tragic fashion sense. And now? Apparently, a bloodhound for gossip.
She appeared in front of me like a villain from a Mean Girls reboot—flanked by two of her minions, one with frosted lip gloss, the other with a pink glitter binder and eyes full of calculation.
"Oh my gosh, Dali," Leah purred, eyes wide and innocent. "You didn't tell us you were dating someone!"
My soul left my body.
"He's so cute," one of the minions added, practically bouncing. "Is he, like, in college?"
"Is he in a band?" the other gasped. "He totally gives bass player energy."
Leah leaned in like we were besties. "Seriously, girl. Spill. Where'd you find him? How'd you lock that down? Tell me everything."
I opened my mouth.
To say: That's my foster brother. Please stop romanticizing my carpool.
But I didn't get the chance.
Because suddenly, gloriously, righteously—
Tiana appeared.
"Ah," she said, voice sugar-dipped acid. "Leah. You're making friends now? How sweet. Didn't realize manipulation counted as a friendship language."
Leah blinked, caught mid-predator-smile.
"I was just being friendly," she said, her voice already stiffening with offense.
"You? Friendly?" Tiana snorted. "The last time you said hi to Dali was when she accidentally beat your score on the chem midterm and you claimed she cheated because her handwriting was 'too unstable to be trusted.'"
One of the minions started to speak—Tiana raised a finger.
"Nope. Don't even start, Lip Gloss. You're still banned from trying to speak logic after the thing you said about gluten and WiFi last week."
Lip Gloss frowned. "That was a theory."
"Yeah," Tiana said, "and so is Bigfoot, but we don't hand him a friendship bracelet."
Leah folded her arms. "Whatever. We were just curious."
"Well, die curious," Tiana said sweetly. "Run along."
Leah turned with a toss of her hair that could have injured someone nearby, and she stormed off, minions trailing behind her like wounded ducklings.
Tiana turned to me, grinning. "You're welcome."
I exhaled like I'd just escaped a burning building. "That was… savage."
"That was necessary," she corrected, looping her arm through mine. "You need me. You'd be emotionally swarmed and sold for social currency by lunch without me."
"I was literally about to say he's my foster brother."
"Too late. Now they think you're dating a mysterious, hot, emotionally unavailable older guy. Which is, let's face it, the greatest PR move you've ever made."
I gave her a side-eye. "You're enjoying this too much."
"I live for this," she said, completely shameless. "Now, you better look like you have a college boyfriend. Straighten your posture. Pout a little. People are watching."
"Are you coaching me on fake clout?"
"Yes. I'm your scandal manager now."
I sighed. "This is going to spiral."
Tiana grinned. "Of course. That's what makes it fun."
__________
Friday, 3:01 p.m.
Raven's car pulled into the front lane of the school like a Hollywood cameo—smooth, black, and utterly inconvenient for my sense of peace.
I spotted him first—leaned back slightly in the driver's seat, sunglasses on like he was trying to make every other high school drop-off car feel underdressed.
And beside him?
Jamie.
Jamie, in all his tall, charming, overconfident glory, waving like we were on a sitcom.
Tiana spotted them two seconds later.
"Is that…?"
"Yep," I said.
"Your foster brother… and the prince?"
I rolled my eyes. "I don't know if Jamie is royalty, but he definitely carries himself like a Duke of Casual Flirtation."
"Holy crap," she whispered. "He's… bigger in person."
"Don't let his jawline hypnotize you," I warned. "That's how they lure you in."
We walked up together, and Raven leaned over to unlock the back doors.
"Hey," he said, smiling faintly. "Right on time."
Jamie twisted in his seat and gave a grin that should be illegal in school zones. "So this is the legendary Tiana."
"Legendary?" Tiana raised a brow, climbing in beside me. "Big word for someone I haven't even insulted yet."
Jamie gave her an approving nod. "I accept the challenge."
Raven pulled away from the curb like nothing about this situation was strange at all. Like he hadn't just turned my entire school social ecosystem into chaos before first period. Like he wasn't now carting me and my best friend around with a human flirt-magnet in the passenger seat.
"So," Jamie said, glancing back. "Where to?"
I looked at Tiana. She looked at me. And then, together: "The Rave."
Raven raised an eyebrow in the mirror. "That new place? With the neon sign and long lines and questionable meat?"
"That's the one," Tiana chirped.
Jamie snorted. "You guys are raving about The Rave?"
Tiana slapped his arm. "Oh my God, that was a good one. The students are raving about The Rave."
"And Raven's taking us to The Rave that the students have been raving about," Jamie added with a wink.
They burst out laughing in complete sync.
High-fived.
Twice.
In the front seat.
Like this was a buddy movie and they'd been cast as the leads while I was stuck in the backseat playing "Anxious Supporting Character #4."
I leaned against the window, watching traffic, wondering how life became a sitcom without warning me first.
Tiana and Jamie kept talking.
About everything.
Favorite ice cream flavors. Most humiliating gym class injuries. A shared hatred of people who clap when the plane lands.
Tiana: "Those people need therapy and a strong hand to the shoulder."
Jamie: "One time a guy clapped after a bus parked. A bus, Tiana."
Tiana: "Okay. That's criminal."
Jamie: "I considered a citizen's arrest."
I glanced at Raven, who hadn't said much. He looked calm, focused on the road, but every so often, I caught his lips twitch—like he was trying not to smile too hard at their chaos.
I hated how much I noticed that.
Jamie turned back briefly, eyes on me. "You okay back there, Dali? You've been quiet."
"Just enjoying the show," I replied. "And preparing a detailed analysis of the inevitable train wreck when you two run out of clever things to say."
Tiana smirked. "Impossible. I've got years of material."
"Same," Jamie said. "And a backlog of puns that could level a city block."
Raven finally chimed in, dry and cool. "God help us all."
The rest of the ride passed in a blur of inside jokes I wasn't even in, arguments about which Starburst flavor deserved jail time, and the undeniable vibe of something forming between them—Tiana and Jamie, two human hurricanes finding mutual destruction delightful.
And me?
I sat in the backseat.
Quiet.
Aware of Raven's voice when he joined in.
Aware of how he still looked at me in the mirror sometimes, just for a second.
Like he wanted to say something.
Like he was checking if I was okay.
I wasn't sure what he saw.
Or what I wanted him to see.
But for now, the backseat was safe.
Even if I felt like a ghost in my own car ride.
__________
The Rave looked like someone gave a teenager a design budget and dared them to be subtle—and they failed spectacularly.
There were LED strips wrapped around every edge of the ceiling, pulsing like they had something to prove. All the tables were shaped like records. The booths glowed faint purple. And the speaker system was blasting a remixed version of some 2000s pop song that made me question reality.
Naturally, every high school student within a twenty-mile radius was here.
We walked in like an alt-universe power quartet: Raven quiet and brooding, Jamie strolling like he owned the building, Tiana already planning a one-woman show, and me—trying not to look like I was babysitting emotions I didn't know how to name.
We claimed a booth near the back, wedged between a flickering neon lightning bolt and a photo wall made entirely of plastic pizza slices.
Jamie slid in next to Tiana. Raven and I sat opposite.
The server came over, barely containing her excitement at the table's collective bone structure.
"Uh… wow, hi," she said, eyes darting between Jamie and Raven like she was trying to decide which one to emotionally imprint on.
"I'll have whatever has the most fries and the least regret," Tiana said, completely unfazed.
"I'll second that," Jamie added.
The server blinked. "Right. Two… fry-based, emotionally stable meals. Got it."
I ordered something simple. Raven got something with grilled chicken that sounded like it required an actual chef.
When the server left, Tiana immediately turned to Jamie. "So, you were born in Australia?"
"Nah," he said, sipping his drink. "Moved there when I was nine. Dad had some tech firm deals there, decided we should 'experience growth in a global context.' Which meant I got sunburnt and developed trust issues with jellyfish."
Tiana snorted.
"I hated it at first," he admitted, "but then I met this guy." He jerked a thumb toward Raven. "He was the only other person in our dorm who read books and broke three phones in one year."
Tiana's eyes lit up. "Wait—Raven broke phones?"
"Constantly," Jamie said. "Two were accidental. One, I swear, he murdered out of sheer rage."
Raven groaned quietly. "That was one time."
"That you admitted," Jamie shot back.
"And what caused the Phone Rage?" I asked, unable to help the small smile creeping in.
Raven paused, then said, "Someone messed with your old sketchbook."
My brain short-circuited.
"What?"
Jamie looked confused. "Wait—that's what that was about?"
"Yeah," Raven muttered. "He thought it was funny to draw in it. I didn't."
Tiana was staring at me now. Hard. "Sketchbook?"
My mouth went dry. "I had this sketchbook when I was thirteen. Raven saw it like once—how do you even remember that?"
He shrugged, brushing his thumb along the side of his drink. "Some things stick."
My throat decided to forget how to work for a few seconds.
Jamie, thankfully, switched gears. "Anyway," he said, leaning back, "Raven picks things up stupid fast. He started learning to code after I'd been doing it since I could type, and within a year he was building full programs. It's disgusting."
Raven looked embarrassed. "It's not a competition."
"Oh, it was, bro," Jamie said. "And you won. I'm still salty."
Tiana tilted her head. "Wait—you code?"
Raven nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"That's hot," she said. "In a nerdy, tragic backstory kind of way."
Jamie pointed at her. "Exactly."
Then they were off again—bantering about programming languages, weird apps they'd tried to build as kids, the ethics of using AI to cheat at board games. They high-fived again. I think I saw sparkles.
And I sat there.
Listening.
Watching.
Trying to process the fact that Raven had remembered my old sketchbook.
The one I hid after my parents' funeral.
The one I stopped drawing in the week he left.
Some things stick.
What did that mean?
What else had stuck?
Raven caught me staring once—just a flick of his eyes, like he felt it. He didn't smile. But he didn't look away, either.
Not immediately.
Tiana was saying something about JavaScript and revenge plots. Jamie was laughing, forehead against the table.
But I was somewhere else entirely.
And the feeling in my chest?
Yeah.
That was new.
And I didn't know what to do with it.