The Valentine Manor library smelled like old paper and lemon polish. Two stories of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves loomed over Cassidy like judgmental witnesses to her academic inadequacy. The massive oak table in front of her held a single math textbook, three mechanical pencils, and the shattered remains of her pride.
She was wearing glasses.
Okay. Deep breath. You can do this.
The frames were black and simple. She hated them. Hated the way they made her look like a try-hard. Hated that she needed them at all because her stupid eyes couldn't focus on stupid numbers without them. But tonight wasn't about looking cool. Tonight was about winning.
It's just a bet. A stupid bet you made because you're an idiot who can't keep her mouth shut.
The library doors opened.
Cassidy's brain stopped working.
Because that wasn't Isaiah Angelo who walked in. That was someone else entirely. Some imposter wearing Isaiah's face but wrapped in packaging that made absolutely no sense.
