Chapter 2

"After all, you're the one who rigged the vote in his favor."

I raised an eyebrow at Blake, who was cowering behind Vivian.

Vivian didn't seem to care in the slightest. "It's no big deal, don't worry. I'll definitely explain everything to them."

With that, she blew past me like a gust of wind.

So, anything that mattered to Derek was "no big deal," but Blake's stuff was top priority, right?

I shrugged, utterly exasperated. How could a guy let himself stay hung up on a girl like her? One hundred and one lives wasted, and he never snapped out of it.

When I turned around, Blake was standing by the stairwell. The helpless pretty-boy act was completely gone, replaced by the smirk of a victor.

"Derek, I won this round. Just wait. I'm going to win every round after this, too.

"Playing weak drives girls crazy. All those nights you spent studying until dawn meant nothing to Vivian."

I just smiled.

"Is that so? She treats me like trash today. What makes you think she won't do the exact same thing to you tomorrow?"

Blake's smirk slowly melted off his face, leaving behind a frozen, awkward grimace.

Unbelievable. A century had passed since my time.

Guys got the best education available, and they still relied on girls to get ahead. Yet women now treated men like disposable toys too.

Except for one person.

"Derek, study whenever you get the chance.

"It's the only way to change your life. Do you get it?"

I remembered playing with mud in my hands, looking up at the woman in front of me. "If I study, will the war stop?"

She hesitated, her voice drifting off into the wind, but the light in her eyes never dimmed. "I don't know."

…

In the end, Vivian never walked me home.

She just sent me a text: [Derek, it isn't safe for Blake to walk home alone after dark. I'm going to walk him back first and then come find you. Be good.]

Be good. Listen to me. Be a good boy.

I had heard those words way too many times throughout Derek's repeated lives, and every single time, they led straight to a dead end.

I locked my phone screen, let out a long breath, and walked into the house with a heavy heart.

Derek's parents were the textbook definition of toxic, high-pressure perfectionists. No guidance, no encouragement—just brutal beatings whenever he fell short of their insane standards.

The next morning, I sat at my desk working through SAT practice questions, my body covered in welts from the beating.

Suddenly, Vivian pulled up a chair in front of my desk, sliding a box of mango pies over.

"Look what I brought you, Derek! Your absolute favorite, mango pies."

I glanced at the box, kept my eyes locked on my SAT prep book, and dropped a line as cold as ice.

"I'm allergic to mangoes."

The person who actually loved mango pies was Blake.

Besides, out of a box of twelve, there were only three left. Did she actually buy these for me, or was I just getting someone else's leftovers?

Vivian froze for a second before letting out an awkward, forced laugh. "Oh, my bad! I must have misremembered.

"I'll get your real favorite next time, promise. Don't be mad, okay?

"Did your parents punish you last night? They love you so much, I'm sure they went easy on you."

The welts on my back throbbed with a burning pain, blood slowly seeping through my white button-down.

Yet Vivian didn't notice a single thing.

She never cared about what Derek was actually going through. What kind of childhood best friend was she supposed to be?

I looked at her coldly. "Is there anything else? If not, I need to study."

I wasn't about to waste another second on this girl.

Vivian slammed both hands on my desk and snatched the prep book right out from under my pencil.

I glared at her, my patience running out fast.

"Why are you doing practice problems?

"Honestly, grinding these won't do you any good anyway. I'll just tutor you from now on."

She just kept talking over me. She was always like this, completely blind to what Derek actually wanted.

"Hey, can you do me a favor real quick?"