Chapter 4
It was straight-up brisk out, and Ivy Sterling was just chillin' under a tree at the bus stop, playin' with her umbrella like it was her latest IG story prop, totally zoned in on her kicks.
*Click—*
Oops, her brolly just got all up in someone's grill. Ivy, thrown for a loop, did a quick two-step back, her wounded leg throwin' shade with a twinge of pain. She dipped the umbrella, all "My bad, so sorry..." style, but the street was on silent mode.
She peeped out from under her rain shield, only half her face on show. Homeboy had bounced without a word.
Ivy exhaled, her eyes scouting for those black sneaks. Found 'em.
There he was, under the streetlight, his blonde hair poppin' like a fresh highlight in a TikTok vid. Dude was rocking the school swag, jacket flowing in the wind, all cool and aloof.
Ivy scoped him for a hot sec, then went back to umbrella duty, realizing the rain was ghosting them. She was all "Hmm" as she folded it up, then froze. The edge was rocking a new, not-quite-dry, red accessory... That dude's blood.
The bus pulled up, Ivy took a seat, and her mind was like a busted Spotify playlist—
The boy hitting the deck with a head wound;
Brianna and her crew cackling like they were in a shady meme;
A bunch of dudes goofing off...
All these snapshots were meshing into one big, messy Insta post.
Right before the doors clapped shut, Ivy was like "Nah" and yeeted herself off the bus with some ninja-level quickness.
She booked it to where Blondie had dipped off. At the mouth of this sketchy alley, she finally spotted him, all slumped against the wall like a low-key street art piece, his vibe screaming "Do Not Disturb."
The wind was like, "I'ma cut you," but Ivy pushed through, her breath steady, as she rolled up on him. "Hey, are you ok?" she asked, squatting down, her voice all soft and real.
Dude was giving her the silent treatment.
Was he KO'd?
She inched her hand towards him, going for the stealthy check if he was still with the living, when—
Bam! His hand snapped up, cuffing her wrist like he just swiped right on her life. Ivy was shook, yanking his hand back like he'd been burned. The dude, Nolan Frost, was holding his head like it was about to split open, wincing from the crash course his skull had with, well, gravity. He peeped at Ivy, the girl who'd popped up outta nowhere.
His forehead was streaming red, like a tragic Snapchat filter gone wrong. Under the sketchy moonlight, his face was ghostly, his blond hair getting a crimson dye job courtesy of the gash.
Ivy, being all chill, fished out a tissue and hit him with, "Dude, your head's leaking. ER time?"
He just eyeballed the napkin like it was an alien artifact, all breezy, "No cash, no cover."
Then he just slumped against the wall, eyes shut, like he was done with the convo and the world.
She scoped him out, puzzled for a hot sec.
Maybe his brain was doing somersaults in his skull.
"I'm broke AF too," she confessed, dropping her bag and whipping out a mini first-aid kit like she was a one-woman ER. "I can patch you up a bit. It's not the good stuff, so it's gonna sting. You down?"
Nolan cracked an eye open, giving her the once-over. His look was all ice, but she could tell he was sizing her up, figuring if she was legit.
