"She's annoying," I muttered.
Ezra raised his eyebrow while casually sipping his juice box like we weren't in a drama. "You mean Serena?"
I didn't answer.
He laughed. "Dude, she literally flipped her hair like, twelve times in twenty minutes just to get your attention."
"I didn't even look at her."
"You didn't have to. She was ready to glue herself to your side."
I shook my head and leaned against the locker. "I hate girls like that. Everything's a performance."
Ezra grinned, nudging me with his elbow. "So… not like Ava?"
My jaw tightened, then relaxed. "Ava's different."
"Ava's real," he said, his voice a little softer now. "And I saw how you looked at her when Serena kept talking."
I glanced sideways. "How?"
"Like you were begging her to say something and save you."
Yeah. He wasn't wrong.
---
Ava's POV
Chloe and I sat under the tree during lunch, our usual spot. I was quiet. She wasn't.
"She's totally into him," she said, tearing into her sandwich like it was Serena herself. "Like, calm down, Miss Lip Gloss. Damien doesn't need help breathing."
I bit my lip. "She sat so close to him."
"Relax," Chloe said. "He barely looked at her. His shoulders were tensed. That's a guy not enjoying a conversation."
"But what if she keeps pushing?"
Chloe leaned forward. "Then you remind her — respectfully — that Damien's taken."
I blinked. "I'm not… we're not—"
She gave me a look. "You're not official, but the boy confessed his feelings, and you practically float when he texts. That's enough."
I sighed, then smiled. "You're right."
"Always," she smirked.
---
(Later that day – Hallway Showdown)
I was walking down the hallway, books in my arms, when I heard heels clicking behind me.
Serena.
She slid up beside me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Hey, Ava."
I turned slowly. "Hi."
She glanced around like she was checking for an audience, then leaned in. "You and Damien. What are you exactly?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Friends. Maybe more. Why?"
She tilted her head with a practiced pout. "Just curious. I mean, he's cute. Quiet. Intense. My type."
I gave her a polite smile. "Then maybe you should try someone else's type."
"Ouch," she said sweetly. "Possessive already? He must be good."
I stepped closer. "He's not a prize, Serena. And he's not impressed by lip gloss and hair flips."
Her smile faded.
"You're new here," I added. "But I'm not new to standing my ground.
"
And I walked past her.
My heart pounded — but my head was held high.
---