9
Next day at school, I was trending, but for all the wrong reasons. I dropped my bag, and Miss Shorthair behind me hissed, "Cheater..." like it was a casual "good morning."
Guess I had more to prove. The underdog's glow-up was too bright for their shades.
So I flipped open my English lit book, ready to wrestle with ancient poets who definitely didn't have me in mind when they were getting all deep and cryptic.
"Look at Syd, hitting the books like there's a secret ending," someone quipped.
Yeah, there's a secret ending, alright. One where I flip the script and come out on top. No cheat codes needed.Okay, so get this: I totally overheard some chatty Cathys at school going on about how I apparently threw down the gauntlet at Sawyer Leighton. Like, as if I'd waste my time on that. But you know how people just live for the tea, especially when it comes to crushes and whatnot.
I just rolled my eyes and kept it moving because, let's be real, smashing through those tired old clichés isn't something you can do with a few sassy comebacks.
After I nailed that poetry slam in my head, I peeped my physics exam from last week and, ugh, I facepalmed so hard. Half the answers were way off. Guess spending two years cooped up in a lab turned my brain to mush.
So, I was like, "Screw it, I'm hitting up the gaming café tonight to grind out some study seshes." That used to be my jam back in high school. Those monster-sized screens were a vibe, and I could jam out to tunes or yeet some stress away with a few games when the study blues hit.
I scoped out a legit-looking café. The owner's kid was always flexing with a fat stack of cash. Must be nice to have a mom who spoils you rotten, huh?
I told the owner I was pulling an all-nighter and made a beeline for the most low-key spot in the joint. I logged into the study site, copped all the science and math exams from the last couple of years, slapped on my headphones, and got down to business.
After I bulldozed through three sets of papers, I was just about to switch to game mode when - yoink! - someone yoinked my headphones off. I look up, and boom, there's Zephyr Yarnell with those honey-drop eyes.
"Sydney Morrow, you're grinding away in a gaming café?" he says.
I scribbled down the last bit of an equation and shrugged. "Gotta do what you gotta do. Sawyer Leighton handed me my butt, so it's catch-up time."
He prowled around my chair like some kind of panther, peeked at my work, and then, real smooth-like, said, "Not too shabby. You actually know your stuff."
His breath was all up in my personal space, and I'm wondering how Mr. Two Hundred and Something even gets what I'm doing, when out of nowhere this other dude chimes in, "First time tackling these problems?"
I swivel around and there's this geeky kid with glasses straight out of Nerdville, rocking an anime tee.
I nod, and he's all over my notebook like it's the holy grail, then hits me with a "Boss!"
I'm like, "Hold up, what?"
"Show me the way of physics, oh wise one!" he pleads, flashing his Prestige Academy Rocket Class ID at me.
Rocket Class? Dude's practically got one foot in an Ivy League dorm.
But those puppy dog eyes? Irresistible. So there we were, three high schoolers who'd planned to pwn noobs in games, diving headfirst into a study marathon right there in the café.
We're hashing it out, the pen's flying, and for the first time in forever, I'm actually digging this whole learning thing.
That is until Zephyr Yarnell snatches our pens away, kills the power to the PCs, and is like, "Time for some midnight munchies."
And just like that, my stomach's growling like a caged beast. Those BLT hit my lips, and I swear, it's like a sneak peek at paradise.
When was the last time I treated myself to this kind of bliss?
And that's how my study night turned into a low-key feast with the most unexpected crew. Go figure.Elliot Jett was vibing hard, couldn't help but spill, "Yo, Boss, today was straight-up fire, hit me up more, yeah? Next round's on me."
The dude was a brainiac for sure, just with a couple screws loose.
I tossed my head, "Nah, man, got a date with my console..."
That's when Zephyr Yarnell threw an arm around me like we're bros for life, "Back off, peeps, this legend's with me."
Elliot's face went all twitchy, so I had to smooth things over, "Chill, I'm tight with everybody, and I've got everyone's back."
We didn't go ham all night though; Elliot bailed when his family's chauffeur buzzed in, and Zephyr strolled me back to my crib. Under the streetlights, his jawline cutting shadows, I tossed him the Q, "Why you playing it cool, bombing tests on purpose?"
He shot me a look, all heavy like, and after a beat, "Don't wanna be my old man's trophy."
Eyes to the stars, he's all, "His dream's me at Princeton, like some shiny badge for his nouveau riche lapel. Ain't giving him the satisfaction."
I snarked back, "Big brain, but Princeton's still playing hard to get for you, genius."
He's all, "Underestimating me, huh, short stack?"
My leg's been off the bench for ages now!
"For real? Your report card's screaming otherwise."
Dead air hung for a sec, thought I'd nicked his pride, but then he's eyeing me like I'm the last piece of cake, "How'd I sleep on someone like you, Sydney Morrow?"
That look, all fierce and fresh, like a love just sprouting but going wild.
