The Boy I Once Hated: Love & Hate Duet

Sixteen years old

“You can do this,” I whisper as I fidget with the dark blue blouse Daisy picked out for me last night. I’m not usually one for pep talks, but the situation seems to call for it as I get ready to start my first day at our new high school.

Today had arrived before I even had time to blink. A moment I’d been both dreading and anticipating when it had finally sunk in that the marriage was happening and that mom would be moving us from the mainland to Thatcher’s Bay.

‘I knew you’d look good in that,” Daisy comments from the doorway, and I jump. She laughs and slides all the way in, shutting the door behind her. “You’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” I snap back, a little more bite to my voice than usual because, let’s face it, I am freaking out.

Daisy looks like a supermodel with her tight white jeans, so tight that I can see the outline of her black thong. Her red shirt is designed to catch everyone’s attention, showing off a sliver of her toned stomach. Her hair is pulled up into a haphazard ponytail and her make up is expertly applied. Staring at my gorgeous sister in her get-up only manages to do one thing—make me second guess what I’ve got on.

I suddenly hate my outfit.

I pull on the shirt and then pick up a brush, sighing as I tug at my hair.

“Stop,” Daisy orders, yanking the brush from my hands and throwing it on the dresser with a loud clatter. “You can’t be trusted with this brush. This is not a weapon, Sky. It’s supposed to make you look beautiful, not bald.” She smirks teasingly while gathering some bobby pins before working her magic on my hair. A few minutes later, she’s done more with my hair than I’ve been able to do for the last thirty minutes.

“My pretty little sister,” she coos as she stares lovingly at me through the mirror.

Just one of the reasons I love Daisy and would do anything for her—she actually means it when she says things like this. Somehow, she really believes it. She looks in the mirror and sees me standing next to her like a star standing next to the sun. She sees something I don’t.

And I never will.

Not wanting Daisy to be aware of the pitiful thoughts rummaging around my head, I shoot her a wan smile and she plants a smacking kiss on my cheek before sauntering back towards the door. “We need to leave in five. I’m fine with being late, but I don’t want you to have a heart attack on your first day.”

I stick my tongue out at her, even though a glance at my phone tells me I did lose track of time trying to get ready.

And that does in fact make me panic.

After one last peek in the mirror, I rush to grab my backpack and race out of the room…smacking right into Noah. I almost fall backwards, but he quickly reaches out and grips my arms, saving me from falling on my ass.

“Aren’t we in a hurry?” he drawls in that lazy, mocking way of his. I try to step away, but his hold remains tight.

“Sorry,” I murmur, biting down on my lip as we lock eyes.

You would assume that I would be used to having a stepbrother by now, but you’d be wrong. Noah has made himself scarce since the wedding, a fact that, up until this very moment, I didn’t realize how much I appreciated. Because all I can think about as I stare at him is that I know what his face looks like when he has an orgasm.

Awkward.

I clear my throat, a countdown starting in my brain of how much time I have until I’m late. His eyes are glittering with amusement, like he can see the numbers in my head. But that isn’t the reason why his stare is so unnerving to me. It’s the way Noah slowly traces my skin with his gaze, all the way from my face to my toes.

“Trying a bit too hard to impress on your first day, aren’t you?”

His stare feels like a physical caress across my skin and it’s all I can do not to shiver.

I roll my eyes at him, proud of how steady I’m acting even if my insides are shaking.

His lazy grin widens and he leans forward.

“Well, color me impressed,” he whispers before he brushes past me and disappears down the hallway to the bathroom.

My nerves are even more messed up as I go the opposite direction, out into the living room where Daisy is sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

“Ready to go?” she asks expectantly. I nod, unable to form words after whatever the hell that had been back there. My sister is used to my awkwardness though, so she doesn’t think to question it.

I follow her out to the beat up Honda that she’s taken to driving so proudly, like it’s actually a Rolls Royce. When Daisy asked Curt for a car on that harrowing wedding day, none of us thought he’d actually give her one. So imagine our surprise when he drove the old thing up the driveway a week later, handing her the keys to it. I doubt Daisy heard a word about how the car was so that we both had some kind of dependable transportation to use to and from school. All she heard was the sweet sound of freedom. Sure the car is older than me and her combined, but Curt won her heart that day. I wish I could say the same. The Fontaine men are something I’m still trying to decipher.

Daisy chatters the entire drive to school, but I wouldn’t be able to pass a quiz on what she says even if I tried. All my thoughts are centered on what lies ahead.

And to my chagrin, my mind also comes back to that peculiar interaction with Noah in the hallway.

It’s like he’s been put on earth to destroy me. At least that’s what it feels like, thanks to the cornucopia of awkward encounters that are stacking up.

Stop it, Sky. You’ve got bigger problems on your plate than your stepbrother.

I shake all thoughts of Noah away from my mind and force myself to think about school instead. Is everyone going to stare at me constantly because I’m the new girl? Will it be worse if they don’t? If I somehow slide past their scrutiny because I truly am the afterthought, the shadow that no one sees, will that be better?

God, I hate my brain.

Before I can get my anxiety in check, we pull into the school parking lot that’s already teeming with students.

“Chin up,” Daisy commands softly as I stare at the red brick building that looks like something out of a storybook. Our last high school was a gray concrete monstrosity that resembled more of a prison than an institute of learning.

This place…it’s quaint. With ivy carving its way up the brick and large white windows. The windows in our other school were tiny slits, a style of architecture that was popular in the seventies. You couldn’t see anything clearly from inside, and maybe that was the goal. So you felt trapped.

This school, though, doesn’t look as scary as I had made it up in my mind. At least not at first glance.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the sea that permeates everything here, and smile.

Maybe it’s the one thing I don’t actually hate about Thatcher’s Bay. In fact, the sea breeze is starting to grow on me. And if I can get accustomed to that, maybe I can feel at home with other things too. But with each step that Daisy and I take toward the building, no matter how hard I try to hold onto that sliver of hope that things will be different for me here, it quickly begins to fade. And in its place, panic sets in, my anxiety reminding me that it’s never far away. I can almost hear it laugh the second we pass through the school’s doors, and all eyes fall on us.

Fuck my life.

“I bet we’re the first new people they’ve had in years,” Daisy muses, shooting a group of letterman-clad jocks a flirty smile as we pass. I feel the tip of my ears redden, and I find myself trying to shrink and hide beside her as their gazes bore into my skin. “Mmmh. So far, so good. I’m starting to think that the ocean air does something for the boys here, cause they sure grow up nice around these parts. I’ve already seen some delicious ones I’d like to nibble on.”

I squeak when one of the so-called ‘delicious ones’ pops up next to me and shoots me a winning smile.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he teases, as if he knows exactly who we are.

He’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome…with dark blue eyes that remind me of a midnight sky. Unlike Noah’s, whose eyes look like the vast ocean on a summer’s day. Either it’s the thought of my stepbrother’s eyes sneaking its way into my head without permission, or the fact that this Adonis is still walking in step with us, staring at me like I’m some candy he wants to put in his mouth, I lose the ability to speak.

“Yes, we are,” sasses Daisy next to me, saving me from actually having to form words. The guy flicks his attention her way briefly and grins before bringing it back to me.

I almost faint.

I hate the attention. Especially from strangers. Even cute strangers like him.

“Kyle,” he says, holding out his hand for me to take.

My mouth opens and closes, and I swear I’m trying to force words out. But nothing fucking comes from between my lips.

“Skylar. Her name’s Skylar.” Daisy saves me yet again, but I know my sister well enough that she’s doing her best to stop herself from laughing at how ridiculous I’m being right now.

“Skylar,” he repeats, like he’s savoring the taste of my name on his lips. “Welcome to Bayshore High. Hope to see more of you.”

Before I can get a “me too,” or anything out, someone calls his name ahead of us. He shoots me one more smile and then strides off, leaving me in a puddle of regret.

“I really didn’t think you could level up any further from how awkward you are, but it seems I was wrong,” she groans with an exaggerated exhale, after she’s made sure no one is close enough to hear her. I shoot my sister a glare, wanting to find a hole to bury myself in. But of course she’s not done with me yet. She places both her hands on my shoulders and gives me a supportive smile. “Repeat after me. ‘Hello. My name’s Skylar. Do you want to be my friend?’”

I giggle, remembering myself on the playground with pigtails repeating those exact words in kindergarten. Who knew I’d still be needing that same script years later?

“You think you can handle that?” she asks with her manicured brow arched up high.

“Yeah, I can handle that.” I laugh half-heartedly, praying that I’m not lying to my sister.

“Good.” She grins, throwing me a wink before releasing her grip on my shoulders so we can continue on our merry way.

We endure more curious stares as we walk to the Admissions office, but thankfully no one else tries to talk to us.

When we walk inside, we come face to face with a lady sitting at a computer behind a long white counter with black granite on the top. She must be pushing sixty at least, but by the loud red dress she’s wearing, I don’t think age is something she’s too concerned about. She’s the very definition of a cougar if I’ve ever seen one. Not only is the dress she’s wearing a vibrant red that you almost need sunglasses to stare at it, but it’s also tight. And I mean tight. I can literally see her nipples from what I can only assume is a very expensive boob job, poking through the fabric. But I’m thankful that there’s fabric at all. Because the dress is so low cut that her nips are in danger of popping out if she takes too deep a breath. Her hair is dyed an almost fluorescent yellow, and she’s got so much makeup on, I bet if someone pressed on her face, their finger would push in at least an inch.

“Well, hello girls,” she coos in a very thick, very fake, southern accent. Daisy and I trade wide-eyed glances. This woman is a character and I can already envision writing her into one of my stories. “You must be the Fontaine girls.”

“Ames,” I rectify quickly, surprising even myself with the vehemence in my voice. But I have to make it clear, my mother may be a ‘Fontaine girl’ now, but we are still Ames girls.

Daisy shoots me an approving smile, but the woman frowns.

“Alright,” she drawls, “the Ames girls.”

“Daisy and Skylar,” Daisy presses as a bell rings in the hallway behind us.

I begin to panic. That’s the start of school bell. Which means I’ll be walking into my first class late. Which means everyone will stare. Which means there is no way I’ll go unnoticed today even if I tried. The buzzing sound in my ears increases until it’s the only sound I hear.

Daisy cuts off my impending panic attack by grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly. She knows all the signs for when I’m about to lose my shit. I take as many non-descript breaths as I can, trying to avoid the woman’s attention as she types on her computer.

I’m almost all the way back to normal by the time she glances back at us. “All honors classes?” she asks me with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“My sister is basically a genius,” pipes in Daisy.

I flush under both of their stares. The woman is frowning again, her red lips showing off a myriad of wrinkles. Mercifully, she doesn’t push anymore. She simply hands us both a packet. “Class started ten minutes ago, so head right there,” she chides as if we were the ones moving at a snail’s pace. I didn’t even know people could type that slow. Especially school admin personnel whose main job is to type.

The panic threatens to burst forward again at the thought of walking in so late, but I do my best to hold it at bay.

Daisy shoots the woman one of her trademark mocking smiles that always seems to make people fall all over themselves, and then we’re blissfully free. We walk out into the perfectly still hallway.

‘You’re going to write about her, aren’t you?’ Daisy teases.

I shoot her a sly grin. ‘How could I not?’

We both erupt into giggles, and it’s all I can do to pull myself together as I open my folder to look at my class schedule.

I’ve got Honors Algebra II first. Math is the bane of my existence. It’s the subject I have to work ten times as hard in as everything else, but the guidance counselor in our last school had told me it wouldn’t reflect well to colleges if math was a regular class, so I’d been forcing myself into torture every year since then.

There’s not a single honors class on Daisy’s schedule, and that’s how she likes it. Daisy has no plans for college; she has no idea what she’ll do. She just knows she’ll do something, be something. My stomach clenches because I know the second she graduates, Daisy will be gone, and I worry I’ll never see her again.

But that’s my little secret too. I know that Daisy is going to leave the second school is over…but then again, so am I.

‘Ready?’ Daisy asks, finally recovered from our bout of laughter.

I nod and square my shoulders, ridiculously wishing Daisy and I were actually twins so I could be in all of her classes with her and not one year behind. She waves at me and heads off in the opposite direction of where I have to go.

And then I’m all alone. I trudge to class, every step feeling like a death march. I know I’m being dramatic. Starting at a new school is the least of most people’s problems, but with my anxiety, it feels like I’ve been asked to climb Mount Everest…butt naked.

I’m finally standing outside the door. I can see the teacher behind his desk, standing up and talking to everyone. For a brief second, I think about dropping everything and running out of the school, disappearing forever. But since that wouldn’t go over too well with my mother, I find myself pulling down on the lever to open the door.

It’s exactly as I envision it, except maybe a million times worse. The teacher’s voice trails off, and I can immediately feel the room full of people staring at me. I make sure to keep my eyes locked on the teacher’s and not on the rest of the class.

‘You must be Skylar,’ he says, except he pronounces the “ar’ part of my name all wrong.

‘Skylar,’ I gently correct, impressed with myself that I was able to even do that. It’s not a hard name to pronounce, at least I don’t think so, but people do it all the time. My first grade teacher actually called me the wrong name for half the year and I never had the courage to correct her. Look at me now, growing a set of balls, if balls were what it took to have someone actually say your name right.

Daisy would be proud.

But just as that fleeting thought crosses my mind, I start to panic again when I realize the teacher asked me something, and I completely missed what he said.

Some of the class titters at my awkwardness.

‘Why don’t you head to that desk in the back and I’ll get back to it,’ he says gently, and I already like him. He has kind eyes, dark brown, sort of like a puppy’s.

With flushed cheeks, I nod, turning towards the class, right as a familiar voice cuts through the room.

‘I think she should introduce herself, don’t you think, Mr. Evans?’ the cold voice drawls. I say cold, but the sound of Noah’s voice is enough to set my blood boiling.

As if his gaze has a tractor beam on it that’s forcing me to stare at him, I find him immediately. His seat is of course next to the only empty one. There’s another jockish dude to the right of him, and three pretty girls in cheerleader uniforms in the other seats surrounding him. He’s sprawled back, his hair a mess, looking unbelievably gorgeous—no, I didn’t just think that.

Argh, Sky!

Get a grip girl.

There’s a challenge in his gaze, like he expects the idea of speaking in front of the room to send me running for the hills, which it very well could.

I glance back to Mr. Evans, I’m sure a plea written all over my face. He glances down, a small frown on his face, and he fidgets with the buttons on his long sleeve dress shirt, like he has issues not doing whatever Noah says.

‘Well—’ Mr. Evans begins.

‘It’s been years since there’s been a new face in the school. We should make it the big deal it is,’ Noah continues. Unlike with Daisy, there’s no missing the mocking air in his tone. I highly doubt Noah thinks my starting school here is a big deal.

‘Well then, go ahead,’ Mr. Evans says sheepishly, a note of apology in his gaze as he flicks his head at me.

I immediately feel lightheaded. There’s only around fifteen people in the class, but it might as well be a thousand.

‘My name is… Skylar,’ I begin in a choked voice. My hands are shaking, and I wonder if I really might pass out. My gaze locks with Noah’s though, and somehow it gives me the strength I need to muster through. Because he’s such a freaking asshole, it makes me want to run over to him and punch him in his too perfect face. “I just moved here from Falmouth…and if I’m honest, I really, really hate math.” I finish lamely, causing a few people to laugh.

And for once, it doesn’t feel like they’re laughing at me…it kind of feels like they’re laughing with me.

Noah’s face scrunches in annoyance as I head to my seat. I don’t meet anyone’s eyes on the way there, and it feels like I’ve accomplished something when I finally slide into my seat.

“Hopefully, I can change your mind about math,” Mr. Evans says with a smile, looking as relieved as I feel that it’s over. He flips the page of the math textbook on his desk and then asks us all to turn to page thirty.

My hands are still trembling as I reach into my backpack and pull out a notebook, praying that I can follow the lesson without the textbook that I failed to bring.

“You looked like you were about to pass out up there, little stalker,” he murmurs, casually twirling a pencil in between his fingers while Mr. Evans talks about complex numbers.

It takes me a moment to realize the nickname he’s called me.

“What did you just call me?” I snap, my voice a little too loud.

I wince and sit back in my seat, determined to ignore him as I try and listen to what Mr. Evans is saying.

But it’s freaking hard to concentrate when Noah’s sitting there…clearly not paying attention at all. And then there’s a girl seated in front of me, who keeps turning to stare at him and give him flirty smiles. In fact, it’s not only her…it seems like the whole class is taking turns trying to stare at him. Like he’s some Hollywood star they’re desperate to get the attention of.

It’s really…weird.

And really bad for Noah’s ego. I’ve never seen someone occupy so much space in a room. I mean, he’s tall, already over six feet. But it’s like his aura is a living, breathing thing. Or maybe that’s my writer brain imagining things again.

I guess I’d been hoping that the waitress’s worship was a one-off. But it’s obvious it’s not, because everyone else in the room is doing the same thing she was. Bleeding all over themselves for his attention.

The jock next to him, who is handsome in his own right, glances over at Noah every few seconds, like he’s checking to make sure Noah approves of the way he’s breathing.

It’s all very…gross.

And fascinating.

And what did he mean when he called me “little stalker?”

The boy strode through the hallway, a devilish gleam in his gaze…

“Ms. Ames, can you please tell us the answer to question number four?” Mr. Evans’ voice cuts through the story I’m writing in my head.

My cheeks flush and I eye my empty notebook page in a panic, searching for question number four that of course isn’t there. Agitated, my gaze falls to Noah’s open textbook on top of his desk, slanted in a way that I’m able to perfectly read the problem I’ve been called to solve.

4x+(3y+4)i=21+7i

Evaluate y.

Okay, complex numbers, what do I remember about complex numbers?

Y=, y=….what does y=?

“Y=1,” Noah drawls, sounding bored, but ultimately saving me from further embarrassment.

“I don’t think your name is Ms. Ames, Mr. Fontaine,” Mr. Evans chides. “Please give your new colleague time to get the answer herself.”

“Then we’ll be here all day waiting for her to get the answer right,” Noah quips back.

The class laughs, and tears threaten in my eyes.

Get your shit together, I curse myself. The last thing I need is to burst into tears right now. I’m sure Noah would have a field day with that.

I really would have to run out of the school in that case.

With a slanted frown, Mr. Evans moves on, and thankfully doesn’t call on me for the rest of class.

But the lesson has been learned. Noah won’t be my friend here.

It feels like hours later that the bell rings, signaling class is over. I’m exhausted, like one period has been the equivalent of half my life span.

Noah strolls out of the room without a glance back, a gaggle of people following him desperately.

Mr. Evans shoots me a sympathetic smile as I drag myself from my desk.

“Just try and stay out of his way. School will run much smoother if you do,” he says softly, and of course I know he’s talking about Noah.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up inside me…because how do you stay away from someone you live with?

“And if you need extra help, I have tutoring available,” he adds helpfully.

“Thank you,” I squeak, before rushing out of the room. I’ve done such a good job of setting myself up with a stellar first impression. The man probably thinks I’m a moron.

I spot Daisy as soon as I walk out into the hallway, and my jaw drops. Not with shock, but in utter awe. The girl is basically holding court. Similar to the way Noah is across the way. She has at least twenty people gathered around her, all of them listening avidly to whatever story she’s telling.

I love my sister. But I can’t help the hot envy that catches in my throat. I’ve just embarrassed myself for an hour and a half, and in that same time she’s managed to cement herself into school lore.

The envy is laced with self-loathing, and I put my head down and tuck my backpack close to my chest as I rush down the hall to the class I’m hoping will offer me some sort of solace.

English.

I’m early as I step into the room; the bell won’t go off for another few minutes, but as the door closes behind me, it immediately feels like a safe place.

There’s a woman in a navy cardigan typing at a laptop, her hair in a haphazard bun, and a pair of librarian glasses perched on her nose. Exactly what I like to see in an English teacher. As the door closes behind me, her eyes meet mine and she offers a stiff smile that’s not unkind. It’s like she’s awkward too, and that’s the best she can do under the circumstances. My schedule said the teacher’s name is Ms. Julian, so I assume that’s her.

“You’re Skylar, aren’t you?” she asks quietly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. When she pronounces my name correctly right off the bat, I like her even more.

“Yes,” I answer…just as quietly.

“One of your teachers actually reached out to me from your old school.” She shuffles through some papers on her desk before grabbing one. “Mrs. Higgins?”

I perk up. Mrs. Higgins was my favorite person at that school. I’d had her as my English teacher for the past two years and like Daisy, she had this thing about her. Like she’d seemed to believe in me and my capabilities. I’d shown her my stories, something I didn’t show anyone. And she’d always acted like she liked them, giving me constructive feedback whenever she’d felt I could learn from it.

“Oh?” I respond.

“She was raving about you. Making sure I knew I had a real writer on my hands.” She giggles nervously, like the thought of that actually scares her.

“I don’t know about that. But she was a great teacher.”

Ms. Julian nods. “Well, better get to your seat,” she says, even though the classroom is still empty. I nod gratefully, sensing she needs the out from our conversation as much as I do. Introverts unite and all that.

People start trickling in, and I check each time the door opens, my stomach clenching at the thought of Noah being in this class as well. The thought of having to be on guard in my favorite class sends terror running through my veins.

The door opens and a familiar face appears. Kyle. He makes a beeline for the desk next to me when he sees where I’m sitting, offering me a boyish grin. There’s someone at the desk already, but that doesn’t stop him.

“Get up,” he says casually to the girl sitting there who had just pulled out her notebook.

I wait for her to say no, or just say anything really, but she only shoots him a nervous smile and immediately gets up. I watch in wide-eyed amazement as she finds another desk without a word.

Kyle settles into the seat nonchalantly, like that’s a normal, everyday occurrence. I’m starting to wonder if there really is something in the water here that they’re feeding certain people to give them this exaggerated sense of self importance and outright entitled douchery.

“How was first period?” he asks, and butterflies take flight in my stomach as I realize I’ll actually need to talk this time.

I’m not used to this, people…seeing me.

He catches me off guard with his question. Why is he bothering to talk to me when he’s shown himself to be an asshole by making that girl move?

“It was fine,” I finally say, watching as his grin transforms into something even more spell-binding.

“She does talk,” he teases, and I curse myself as I blush for the umpteenth time that day.

“She does,” I answer.

He’s about to say more, but Ms. Julian stands up and hesitantly clears her throat. I like that Kyle settles back in his seat and doesn’t try to talk over her. I doubt she would say anything if he did. She seems too nervous for that, so it’s nice that she doesn’t have to and that she can give her class in peace and without fear of being interrupted.

My thoughts drift from Kyle to Noah, envisioning what he’d do in the same situation.

It wouldn’t be pretty.

He’d eat Ms. Julian alive.

Which is unsurprising since wallflowers like us could never survive the beat down of a merciless tidal wave.

And make no mistake. Noah is a tsunami in the making.

‘Can I walk you to the cafeteria?’ Kyle asks after he’s helped me find my locker.

I nervously chew on my lip, not accustomed to so much friendly attention from someone I’ve just met.

‘Actually, I brought my lunch with me,’ I tell him, taking out the tuna sandwich I made this morning from my backpack.

‘Ah, come on? You can’t eat that on your first day at Bayshore High,’ Kyle retorts playfully, shoving my sandwich back in my bag and closing my locker for me.

I’m uncomfortable with his assertiveness, but he’s been nothing but nice to me all day so I don’t have the heart to tell him no.

‘Sure. Okay,’ I concede with a thin smile.

‘Awesome!’ he cheers, like I just made his day.

Kyle leads me through the school hall towards the cafeteria, chatting away like he’s known me all his life. In return, I nod and offer him a few hmms and aahs to show him I’m listening.

I’m not.

How could I be when my anxiety is playing its games with me?

All I can concentrate on is the curious stares from the other students flicking our way as we walk down the hall.

Daisy was right.

These kids haven’t had fresh blood in this school in a long ass time, which means there was no way I would have ever passed under their radar. It only gets worse when Kyle and I enter the busy cafeteria. Kids pry their gazes from their lunch trays to gawk and stare at me. It’s almost like I’m some beacon, attracting all this unwanted attention.

It’s unnerving.

Kyle, however, seems to be utterly oblivious to it all.

Or maybe, he’s just pretending to be.

‘See? Isn’t pizza better than a tuna sandwich?’ he teases, placing two slices of pepperoni pizza on my plate.

I’m a little miffed that he just assumed I wanted pizza instead of anything else on display. Honestly, my anxious stomach won’t be able to handle it, and I would rather have had a simple salad than greasy cafeteria junk food.

Still, instead of getting what I want, I let him pay for my lunch, making a note of only having a few bites so I don’t get sick later on.

‘Hey, you’re in luck. There’s an empty seat at your brother’s table,’ he proclaims excitedly, heading to a large round table at the corner of the room.

‘I don’t have a brother—’ I start confused, then slam my mouth shut when it hits me.

He means Noah.

Fuck.

Word sure gets around here. I bet Kyle knew who I was before he even laid eyes on me this morning.

My gaze scans the table in question, and just as I suspected, Noah is surrounded by what I can only assume are his friends. Yeah, no way am I sitting there.

‘Kyle!’ I call out, but he’s too far away to hear me.

Goddamn it!

I take a deep breath and plant the fakest smile I can muster as I follow him.

One lunch.

I can survive one lunch with Noah.

If I can survive family dinners with him, I can survive this.

I think.

‘Hey, look who I found?’ Kyle says when he reaches the table, me now at his heel. Everyone stops what they are doing to see what Kyle is going on about, but it’s not their prying eyes that churn my stomach—it’s his.

After Kyle places his tray on the table, he grabs an empty chair for me, which to my chagrin, I have no choice but to sit in.

‘Thought it would be nice if your sister could have lunch with a familiar face, being it her first day and all,’ Kyle adds cheerfully after he’s taken the empty seat next to me.

‘Haven’t you heard?’ Noah says, not taking his eyes off his phone. ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’ He then breaks his gaze away from his screen just long enough to stare me in the eye. ‘And that…is not my sister.’

My cheeks flush crimson with the few chuckles that erupt from the table.

‘Fine. Stepsister. Don’t be a dick.’ Kyle waves him off like he’s used to this type of bad behavior from Noah.

But then again, maybe he is. Perhaps they all are.

And I’m the one who needs to get with the program.

With my head hung low, I fiddle with my food while Kyle tries to entertain me. When he sees that I’m not the talkative type, he starts a conversation about basketball with the two guys across from us wearing the same letterman jacket he is.

God, I wish Daisy had the same lunch hour I have.

I could use her as an excuse to get up and walk away from this wretched table.

Twenty minutes.

That’s all the time I’m going to give this awkward lunch. Twenty minutes should suffice to appease Kyle and not have him be offended by my bailing.

Satisfied with that plan, I inwardly start counting down the minutes while playing with the food I have no intention of eating.

But then it happens.

A nagging feeling that this awkward lunch is about to get a whole lot worse.

I lift my head and discreetly look over to where Noah is seated, knowing he’s the only person here who could make my life difficult. His eyes are no longer on me but on a familiar redhead that is sashaying past our table. His smug smile is all the coaxing she needs to come and talk to him.

It doesn’t take long to realize where I know her from. She’s the waitress from The Scarlet Letter Café. The same waitress I saw on her knees for Noah.

It’s only when she gets close enough that I see her staring at the raven-haired girl sitting beside Noah with apprehension. When said girl rolls her eyes at her and dismisses her presence by continuing to talk with her friends, does the redhead eat the distance between her and Noah.

‘Ah shit. Things are about to get heated.’ Kyle laughs beside me.

‘Why?’ I ask curiously, not bothering to look at him since I’m too focused on Noah and his hookup talking to one another.

‘See the girl sitting right next to your brother? The one with the high ponytail to show off her Tiffany diamond studs? That’s Noah’s girlfriend, Stacy. Or maybe she’s his ex now. You never know with those two.’

My jaw goes agape at this piece of gossip. So much so that instead of me staring at the redhead blatantly flirting with Noah, I’m far more interested in Stacy, who doesn’t seem to mind that another girl is talking to her boyfriend in such an intimate way.

It’s only when Noah crooks his finger to the waitress, ordering her to bend down so she can get close enough for him to whisper in her ear, that Stacy ends whatever talk she was having with her friends to listen in on what he’s saying. Whatever he says can’t be good because both girls start to stare at me for some reason. While the waitress looks embarrassed by what he just told her, with the way her cheeks flush all sorts of red, Stacy seems disgusted.

Noah, though… looks like the cat who got the cream.

The waitress quickly retreats from the table, rushing away like she can’t get far fast enough. Stacy, however, stays seated precisely where she is, throwing me an ugly smirk and whispering in her friend’s ear. Her friend’s eyes widen as she stares at me, and before I know it, she’s whispering to the girl sitting beside her, too.

It all feels surreal, this juvenile game of telephone.

And it was all provoked by something Noah said to the redhead, loud enough that he knew Stacy would pick up on it.

What did he say?

What the fuck did he say?

But just as the question pops into my head, Stacy’s quick to clarify for me.

‘Stalker!’ she shouts while pretending to cough out the word.

The tip of my ears begins to heat when everyone around the table takes Stacy’s cue and begins to cough out the word ‘stalker.’ They don’t even have the decency to pretend they aren’t talking about me, staring directly at me as they laugh away at my ridicule.

Stalker.

That’s Noah’s favorite word for me.

All because I caught him with his pants down, literally.

He was the one in the ladies’ bathroom getting off, but I’m the one being judged for it.

You did watch.

You stayed and watched.

That’s why they’re laughing at you.

Because you stayed. Because you enjoyed watching him.

And now everyone knows it.

Not waiting for the twenty minutes to pass, I get up from my seat and walk away. I don’t even care to look back when Kyle worriedly calls out my name.

I can’t look back.

Because he’s watching me. Taking pleasure in my embarrassment and humiliation.

If I thought Bayshore High would be different from the school back home, then I was right.

Going to school here is going to be so much worse.

All because of my asshole of a stepbrother.

Isn’t that a kick in the head…