Chapter 3

PAST

GRAYSON’S POV

The new girl was no one special.

Just another teenager faking indifference, trying to fit in while simultaneously begging to stand out. Just another girl wearing a skin that didn’t really belong to her.

Nathan noticed her first. He was observant like that. Ears too attuned to pointless gossip and high school hookups.

To him, she was just a target. A vulnerable new admission with no friends and a little too much fire. He tried to convince us to go talk to her and make her a little uncomfortable. Just harmless fun.

I wasn’t remotely interested, so I shut it down. Told him to grow up and find something useful to do.

Selene Hale might’ve just slipped through the cracks like all the others if she had just kept her head down.

But she didn’t. 

She was smart. Not the kind that hid behind silences, nerdy glasses and too-thick textbooks.

She was loud about it, completely unapologetic. She solved problems like she was writing poetry; she debated with Mr. Dorian about the misogyny in Murakami’s work until he was red in the face, and she glowed with the sweet taste of victory.

She was new, but her name was now echoing in every corner that had once belonged to me. 

She was challenging me.

Though, in her defense, she didn’t even know she was doing it. She probably didn’t even know who I was—except for the stories I’m sure she must have heard.

We shared two classes—calculus and literature—and for an entire month, I watched her.

I noticed the way her brows furrowed when a question on the board took her by surprise—not that it happened often. I saw how she chewed on the end of her pen when she was trying to stay quiet, though the technique never worked for her. I noticed the way her brown eyes lit up when she knew she had the answer to a problem. 

Mostly, I noticed the way the annoyance in my chest flared every time her hand shot up in class.

And then my silent frustration reached a peak when we got the results of our first calculus class test of the semester.

“Miss Hale,” Mr. Jameson’s voice carried easily through the classroom, calm but commanding enough to shut down the whispers breaking through the silence.

He was young for a teacher—meticulously dressed, sharp-eyed. He recently graduated from some Ivy League college or the other, from what I remember from his first class with us. 

He looked like someone who knew what he was doing, and his competency had made me immediately look at him with something akin to respect, which wasn’t something I offered easily.

He stood up from his chair, smoothing down his button-down shirt as he held out her test paper.

Selene stood up, still occupying that last chair at the very end of the class, and my gaze drifted towards her before I could stop myself. 

Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail, the curled ends brushing her back as she walked. She fiddled with the silver ring on her index finger, her brows furrowed ever so slightly. 

I’d been reading her far too closely not to clock the nervousness she was trying so hard to mask. But I knew she had nothing to worry about—not with the look on Professor Jameson’s face.

My jaw clenched, and I had to exhale to relax my face.

“Ninety-eight,” Mr. Jameson said, his lips quirking in a barely there smile. “That’s impressive.”

Ninety-fucking-eight. 

I glanced down at my own paper and the ninety-four circled in red at the top now felt like an insult. I thought it was good enough. 

And once, it had been. 

Before Selene, it had been more than enough. 

But now, she was competition.

And I didn’t do competition. 

I haven’t needed to in years. I was the curve. The benchmark. The silent ruler of this school’s academic hierarchy.

I was used to being the best, of always being at the top. And staying there. Whether it was academics or sports, or anything in between. 

And Selene Hale had just knocked me four marks down. 

She was winning a game she didn’t even know she started, and I was going to make sure she regretted it.

As if reading my mind, Mr. Jameson looked up straight at me. I hardened my gaze and stared right back. He held my gaze long enough to piss me off a little further before he nodded—like he knew something I didn’t—and looked away.

My grip on the test paper tightened until I could feel the edge of it crumple underneath my fingers.

Selene was now walking back towards her seat, and my eyes followed her. She kept her gaze down, eyes hungrily taking in the answers she’d given. The little frown was still there, wedged between her brows, like even a ninety-eight wasn’t enough for the bloody woman and if she could just read fast enough, she’d find a mistake in Mr. Jameson’s marking.

“Now,” Mr. Jameson clapped his hands together, breaking me from my train of thought as he. “All of you did wonderfully on the test, but just a fair warning, things will only get tougher from here.”

A collective groan followed his words, and he gave a dignified shrug in response.

“Keep practicing, and I’m sure you’ll be breezing through calculus like you do with gym class. Most of you, anyway.”

There was scattered laughter, followed by the screech of chairs being pulled back and of bags being zipped up, the students recognizing Mr. Jameson’s little speech as the dismissal that it was.

“You okay, man?” Josh asked from beside me.

I blinked, offering him a nod without looking at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

I could see him leaning half out of his desk from the corner of my eye as I stashed my test paper in my bag and stood up.

Josh whistled all of a sudden, and I turned, following his line of sight.

Selene stopped a few steps ahead of us, her head turning back slowly at the disruption.

“Miss ninety-eight,” Josh drawled out as his gaze scanned her from top to bottom like she was a new toy for him to play with.

I had a very sudden, very overwhelming urge to smack his head, but I kept my hands to myself.

“How’s it feel being teacher’s pet after, what, a week?” He asked, a lazy smile crawling onto his face.

A smile I’ve heard being described as ‘delicious’ on many occasions. Mostly by girls who have yet to develop their frontal lobes.

Selene blinked, and I saw her face shift the exact moment she realized Josh wasn’t worth her time. She turned around and walked away without another word.

“She could be fun, you know,” Josh said as he fell in step next to me. “Nathan’s always right about these things.”

If it were anyone else, I would’ve told Josh to go get a life.

But now, I stayed silent. Because maybe, just maybe, what he was suggesting was exactly what I needed as well.

Not for fun. Just to rattle her enough to remind her that she was nothing more than a new girl. Replaceable, alone. Not special. Distract her just long enough for her to slip up, to fall behind.

Until she lost the game.

We were almost at the front of the room when Mr. Jameson’s voice stopped me. 

“Mr. Vexley!”

I paused, feeling Josh’s eyes on me. “A word, please?”

I nodded. 

“I’ll join you in the cafeteria,” I said to Josh before I walked over towards Mr. Jameson’s desk, my thoughts already sharpening.

“Everything alright?” I asked, my voice steady even though a part of me knew what he wanted to say.

“Of course. I just wanted to tell you that a ninety-four’s a very good score.”

My eyes narrowed. “You already said that once.”

He nodded. “Yes, I did, but then I announced Ms. Hale’s score, and I noticed you looked… bothered by it.”

I bristled at his tone, at the way his gaze scanned me like he could see right through me. “I wasn’t bothered by Ms Hale’s score…”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I’m not insinuating that you were.”

“Then what are you insinuating?” I asked, my voice clipped.

“That some healthy competition is good,” he said evenly. “That being challenged doesn’t mean you’re losing. Or failing anyone.”

My pulse jumped.

“Excuse me?” I said, eyes narrowing into slits. A silent warning that he was crossing his boundaries and that he needed to shut up now.

He threw up his hands in a gesture of peace, but it didn’t tame my urge to smash his face in.

“You don’t know shit about me,” I hissed, palms flat on the desk as I leaned down, towering over him. He didn’t look the least bit bothered. “Don’t try to act like you do.”

“Okay,” he said calmly. I pulled back, already walking away when his voice made me pause once more.

“Just think about what I said. Maybe you’re a little less angry.”

I gritted my teeth and slammed the classroom door behind me.