6
"Hey, what's your name?"
Cut to me, minding my own business, trying to piece together the fragments of my last life - when Zephyr Yarnell sidles up. He's got this bad boy swagger that's catnip to the freshmen but just gives me a headache.
"You're like a walking chill pill in front of the guidance counselor. You're the only one who can match me," he says, all confident and annoying.
I hit him with the cold shoulder. "You're not my type, bro."
He's all up in my space, and I'm about to read him for filth when a car nearly turns me into roadkill. Zephyr pulls me back, and just like that, I owe him a "thanks" or something.
He's all, "Write me the reflection essay, I gotta bounce to basketball."
I chuck his pen back. "Write your own sorry script, Shakespeare." And I'm out, climbing the stairs to escape.
Except there's Sawyer Leighton, looking like he just stepped out of a cologne ad, with that whole mysterious vibe that should come with a warning label.
"Sydney Morrow," he says, and his voice is like velvet.
I'm trying not to get all flustered when he hits me with, "Why you gotta be cruel to Sasha Snow? Putting nails in her shoes is no joke." "I don't like you. So please stop your childish acts."
I can't help it; I laugh. It's like everyone here is a character from a bad teen movie.
I get all up in his space and drop the bomb. "I'm coming for your number one spot."
He smirks.
"Trying to provoke me, Sydney?"
I shoot him a grin. "Didn't you get the memo?"
He's looking at me like I'm something he stepped in, and I'm standing there thinking about how the old Sydney thought he was this untouchable god.
"Provoke all you want. You think a confession makes me owe you something?"
And just like that, the gauntlet is thrown. Game on, Sawyer Leighton. Game on. He rocked back on his heels, a smirk playing on his lips. "Valedictorian, huh? You for real?"
I rolled my eyes. "Don't act like we were BFFs back in the sandbox. Newsflash, Sawyer: I'm not the same girl. And if you're so cozy with Sasha Snow, then, by all means, be my guest."
"Is that your blessing or your burn?" he shot back, a chill in his voice. "Because, Sydney, I've heard the whispers. Someone's seen you stirring the pot."
"Was that someone your reflection?" I quipped, tucking a stray strand behind my ear. "Careful, Sawyer, gossip's a killer."
He snorted. "As if you could knock me off the top of the class."
His dismissive tone was like a red rag to a bull. "Oh, I'll see you at the summit, alright. Just keep your Snow Queen out of my face. It's cringe-worthy."
Before he could retort, a basketball came hurtling at us. Instinctively, I batted it away, shielding pretty boy Sawyer. My hand throbbed, and I glared down the stairs to find Zephyr Yarnell, his usual chill vibe gone, replaced with a frown.
His silver cross necklace caught the light, almost blinding me as he sauntered up, his stare drilling into Sawyer. "Dude, ever heard of chivalry?"
The tension was thicker than my history textbook, and for a second, I imagined them in some epic bromance.
"Zephyr, buzz off," Sawyer growled.
Zephyr stepped closer. "In case you missed the memo, her drama is my drama."
His voice was like velvet, his stance unyielding. If I was into clichés, I'd have swooned for this knight in shining armor right then and there.
He reached out, but I dodged, slipping through their macho standoff. "Catch you on the flip side, boys!"
