Her Score for Him: -175

Alera's POV

I glanced around. That scent—strong and undeniable. Rayvan was nearby. I narrowed my eyes and spotted a shadow behind the bushes.

“Who’s there?”

Rayvan stepped out, holding a basketball. I was right. He was around. Had he followed me?

“Sorry, my ball rolled over here. Uh, am I interrupting something?”

His eyes flicked between us, his expression not as unreadable as usual.

“No, Ray. Want to join us? Maybe we can go over the topic together.” Richard smiled, easy and welcoming.

I stayed silent. I didn’t want to discuss anything with Rayvan right now. We never saw eye to eye, and talking to him would only end in another clash.

But that scent... it calmed something inside me, and hurt me all the same. It reminded me of how the person behind that scent had treated me—cold, cruel.

“No, Richard. This is your group project. It has nothing to do with me.”

Rayvan’s voice was flat. He shot me a look—sharp, cutting, almost hateful—before walking away without another word.

“Ever since the basketball scandal broke, he’s been worse to you,” Richard said, pulling out a book from his bag. “He shouldn’t treat you like this.”

“It’s okay, Richard. He’ll stop eventually.” I forced a smile. “So, any ideas for our title?”

“Hmm... let me think.” He looked up, eyes scanning the clouds like he might find the answer written in the sky.

“How about Invisible Scars: The Hidden Cost of Being Different in a Stratified Society?” I smiled wide. I liked how it sounded.

“That’s such a cool title, Alera. I love it.” Richard nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright then, we’re going with that. Now let’s work on the hook for our introduction.”

“Sure. I think you're better at crafting hooks. You do that, and I’ll handle the background section.”

“Okay, Richard.”

I began writing, one sentence at a time...

What does it feel like to always eat alone? What does it feel like to be the punchline of a joke, especially when it’s something you're trying so hard to overcome? They laugh at your worn-out shoes. They laugh at how you look—because you don’t meet their social standards.

To us—the ones from the lower rung—this campus is not a place to grow.

It’s a battlefield dressed as a university.

We had a week to finish the essay. I was sure we’d make it. Richard was easy to work with.

******

Rayvan's POV

Today, our basketball team was playing against Ravenshade University. Since I was still under suspension, I wasn’t on the court. Just a benched player, watching from the sidelines.

The cheerleaders were getting ready. Most guys drooled over them—they were the so-called “ideal” girls every guy wanted. But not the P-Boys. Our standards were higher. Pretty faces weren’t enough. A girl needed presence, uniqueness, strength. Something... more.

Then I spotted her. Alera. Sitting next to Richard. The loner girl who never cared for basketball games... now sitting beside one of the players?

“How do I look, Alex?” Samantha’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Out of 10? I’d give you an 8,” Alex replied, smiling with clear hesitation.

“You look good—your hair’s nice, the pink lipstick suits you.”

“What do you think, Rayvan?” Samantha tossed her long hair, batting her lashes at me.

“Uh, sorry, Samantha. I’ll be honest. Four out of ten. Lipstick doesn’t match, makeup’s too much, outfit’s too tight. You’re like fries—slightly burnt at the edges.”

Samantha glared. The guys burst out laughing. I caught Alera giving me a cold, unimpressed stare.

“You never say anything nice,” Samantha huffed. “I wonder what kind of girl could ever get a ten from you.”

“Maybe Lilian?” Alan gestured toward Lilian standing next to Samantha.

“A ten? Please. I deserve more than that. Who wouldn’t fall for a sexy, gorgeous girl like me?” Lilian smirked, arms crossed.

“Sorry, Lilian. To me, you’re a solid three out of ten. You’re loud, needy, think you’re perfect, your makeup’s overdone, and you try too hard to look sexy when... honestly, you’re not.”

Her face flushed red. My tone was calm, but it hit hard.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she snapped. “You rate every girl in Lycanridge so low. You even gave me a worse score than Samantha?”

“Don’t worry, Lilian,” I said with a dry smile. “Someone did get a lower score.”

I looked straight at Alera, still silent.

“That lower-class girl over there? She scores a 0.75. She’s annoying, spreads people’s secrets through that stupid diary, and she’s the reason I lost my spot as team captain. Her clothes are outdated, her hair’s like a village girl, no sense of style, flat-chested, and just... ordinary.”

The cheerleaders—who also hated Alera—burst out laughing. A few of my teammates joined in.

“You’re seriously cruel, Rayvan,” Bobby cackled.

“Sorry, Rayvan,” Alera suddenly said, her voice sharp. “But your score is negative 175.

You belittle people, you tear them down, and you have no idea how to respect anyone.”

Dead silence. Even I was caught off guard.

The quiet girl... finally knew how to bite back?

Before I could respond, Alex nudged my arm.

“Ray, look—over there. That new girl from the Literature department. Her name’s Lyra. She might be the only one worthy of a ten.”

I followed his gaze—and froze.

That girl...

Even from a distance, her crystal eyes seemed to hypnotize. She didn’t need tight clothes to be sexy. Her long blonde hair shimmered under the lights. Her stare was both fierce and calming at the same time. And somehow, I sensed something—something Lycan—in her.

Who is she?