Chapter six

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The girls' locker room smelled like hairspray, vanilla body mist, and high energy. Friday afternoon before the big basketball game, and the cheer squad was in full preparation mode. Moana sat on the bench in front of her locker, carefully applying mascara while Octavia twisted her hair into a high ponytail beside her.

"So," Lalissa said, dropping onto the bench and pulling out her makeup bag. "How's living with the dickhead?"

Moana didn't look up from her compact mirror. "Unbearable."

"Unbearable how?" Octavia secured her ponytail with a hair tie and turned to face Moana fully. "Give us details."

Moana sighed and set down her mascara. There was no point in hiding anything from these two. They were her best friends, the only people she trusted completely. "It's constant tension. Every morning at breakfast, every time we pass in the hallway, every second we're in the same room. And our parents are completely oblivious."

"Of course they are," Lalissa muttered. "They're too busy playing happy blended family."

"Exactly." Moana pulled out her lip gloss. "Last night we had this family dinner where my mom kept going on about how wonderful it is that Dylan and I are getting along so well."

Octavia raised an eyebrow. "Getting along?"

"We barely speak to each other. We just sit there, pretending everything's normal while they plan their perfect little wedding." Moana's voice was tight. "It's exhausting."

"But something happened," Lalissa said, leaning forward. "I can tell. What did he do?"

Moana hesitated for only a second before the words came spilling out. "A few nights ago, I went downstairs to get food. I thought everyone was out, but Dylan was in the kitchen. Shirtless. And he just stood there watching me while I tried to pretend he didn't exist."

"And?" Octavia prompted.

"And then he told me to mind how I dress around the house." Moana's jaw clenched at the memory. "Said he's a fucker and he wouldn't mind bending me over the kitchen counter."

"He said what?" Lalissa's voice rose sharply.

"Then he just walked away like it was nothing."

Octavia and Lalissa exchanged a long look.

"Moana," Octavia said carefully. "You have feelings for him."

"I don't."

"Yes, you do," Lalissa cut in. "And that's the problem. Dylan Dickson is a player. He doesn't do relationships. He fucks girls and moves on. You know this."

"I know," Moana said quietly.

"So why are you letting him get to you?" Octavia's tone was gentle but firm. "You're Moana Queens. You don't let guys mess with your head."

"I'm not letting him mess with my head."

"Then why do you look like you're about to cry every time we mention his name?" Lalissa reached over and squeezed Moana's hand. "We're worried about you."

Moana pulled her hand away and stood, smoothing down her cheer uniform. "I'm fine. I can handle Dylan."

"Can you?" Octavia stood too, crossing her arms. "Because from where we're standing, it looks like he's getting under your skin."

"He's not."

"He is," Lalissa said. "And we just don't want to see you get hurt."

Moana grabbed her pom-poms from her locker and turned to face her friends. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm not some fragile girl who's going to fall apart over a guy. Dylan can do whatever he wants. It doesn't affect me."

Octavia and Lalissa didn't look convinced, but they let it drop.

"Come on," Moana said, forcing brightness into her voice. "We have a routine to kill."

The three of them headed out of the locker room together, their sneakers squeaking against the polished gym floor. The basketball team was already on the court warming up, and the bleachers were starting to fill with students ready for the game.

Moana's eyes found Dylan immediately.

He was standing near the sideline, but he wasn't warming up with his team. Instead, he was talking to one of the other cheerleaders, a girl named Bethany with long legs and blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

Dylan was leaning in close, saying something that made Bethany laugh. She touched his arm, her fingers lingering on his bicep. He smiled that cocky, devastating smile that made girls weak.

Moana's stomach tightened.

"Don't look," Octavia whispered, but it was too late.

Dylan's hand slid to Bethany's waist, pulling her closer. And then he kissed her.

Not a quick peck. Not a friendly brush of lips.

A real kiss. Deep, slow, deliberate. The kind of kiss that made his intentions crystal clear. Like he'd screw in there without minding the people watching.

Bethany melted into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, and Dylan's grip on her waist tightened.

Moana felt like she'd been slapped.

Dylan pulled back from the kiss, said something that made Bethany giggle, and then finally, finally…his eyes shifted across the gym.

They landed on Moana.

For one brief, electric second, their gazes locked.

Then Dylan looked away like she wasn't even there. Like she was invisible. Like she meant nothing. That's what he has been doing, he'd stay away from her like she wants, damn the sick game he wanted to play by being friends with her.

He turned back to Bethany, whispered something in her ear, and jogged onto the court to join his team.

"Moana." Lalissa's voice was soft. "Forget him. Let's focus on our routine."

"I'm fine," Moana said, but her hands were shaking as she gripped her pom-poms.

"Fuck him," Octavia muttered. "He's playing games."

"I know." Moana forced herself to look away, to focus on her squad gathering at the sidelines. "Let's just do this."

The routine went perfectly. Moana hit every move, every jump, every cheer with precision. But her mind was somewhere else. Even as she smiled and danced and pumped up the crowd, part of her was painfully aware of Dylan on the court.

The game was intense. Dylan played like he had something to prove, aggressive and dominant, driving his team forward. He was everywhere, stealing the ball, sinking three-pointers, making impossible shots that had the crowd roaring.

With ten seconds left and the score tied, Dylan got the ball. He drove down the court, dodged two defenders, and launched a shot from halfway down the court.

It went in.

The buzzer sounded. Dylan's team won.

The gym erupted in chaos. Dylan's teammates swarmed him, slapping his back and shouting. The crowd was on its feet, chanting his name.

And Dylan, riding the high of victory, yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

Moana's breath caught.

He grabbed a water bottle, tipped his head back, and poured it over himself. Water cascaded down his face, his neck, his chest. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead, droplets sliding down the sharp lines of his jaw.

He looked like a sin incarnate.

Girls immediately swarmed him. They appeared out of nowhere, offering him towels, more water, and congratulations. Hands reached out to touch his arms, his shoulders, his chest. Dylan soaked it all in, grinning and laughing, the center of attention.

Moana stood frozen on the sidelines, watching.

Their eyes met again across the gym.

This time, Dylan held her gaze for a long, loaded moment.

Then he deliberately turned away, slinging his arm around Bethany's shoulders and pulling her close.

Moana looked away before he could see her reaction.

"Party at the house," Octavia said, appearing at her side. "You coming?"

"Yeah," Moana said. "Let's go."

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The school's unofficial party house was packed by the time they arrived. Music pounded through the walls, bass vibrating the floor. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and too many bodies pressed together. People were everywhere dancing in the living room, making out in corners, playing drinking games in the kitchen.

Moana had changed into a short black dress that hugged every curve, her hair loose and wild around her shoulders. She looked like the queen she was, and she knew it.

"Drinks first," Lalissa announced, grabbing Moana's hand and pulling her toward the kitchen.

They poured shots, clinked glasses, and threw them back. The alcohol burned going down, but it felt good. Moana needed it.

"Let's dance," Octavia said, and they pushed their way into the living room where bodies moved to the heavy beat.

Moana let herself get lost in it, the music, the movement, the feeling of being surrounded by people. She danced with her friends, laughed at their jokes, and tried to forget about Dylan.

But then she saw him.

He was standing near the stairs, surrounded by people. Bethany was draped over him, her arms around his neck. Another girl stood too close on his other side, her hand on his chest. Dylan had a drink in one hand and that infuriating smirk on his face.

He looked like he was holding court.

Moana's chest tightened, but she forced herself to look away.

"Ignore him," Octavia shouted over the music.

"I am ignoring him," Moana shouted back.

She danced harder, moved closer to a guy who'd been eyeing her from across the room. He was tall, athletic, good-looking in a generic way. When he moved closer and put his hands on her hips, Moana let him.

She felt Dylan's gaze on her before she saw him looking.

When she finally glanced over, their eyes locked across the crowded room.

The space between them felt charged, electric, impossible to ignore.

Then Dylan deliberately turned back to Bethany and kissed her.

Right there. In front of everyone.

His hands slid down Bethany's back, pulling her flush against him. The kiss was deep, possessive, meant to be seen.

Moana's nails dug into her palms.

The guy she was dancing with said something, but she didn't hear it. She nodded anyway, let him keep his hands on her waist, but she couldn't focus.

An hour passed. Then another. The party got wilder, messier. People were drunk, sloppy, losing themselves in the chaos.

Moana drank more than she should have. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to feel the edges blur.

And then she saw Dylan heading upstairs.

Bethany was with him, her hand in his, giggling at something he'd said.

They disappeared down the upstairs hallway.

Moana knew exactly what was about to happen.

She couldn't do this anymore.

"I'm going home," she said, turning to Octavia and Lalissa.

"What?" Lalissa grabbed her arm. "The party just started."

"I know. I'm just tired."

"Tired?" Octavia's eyes narrowed. "Or you can't keep watching him?"

"Both." Moana pulled her arm free gently. "I just need to go."

Her friends exchanged a long, worried look.

"Moana," Lalissa said slowly. "Since when do you let a guy run you out of a party?"

"I'm not letting him do anything. I'm choosing to leave."

"Bullshit," Octavia said flatly. "You're running because you can't handle seeing him with someone else."

"So what if I am?" Moana's voice came out sharper than she intended. "Why does it matter?"

"Because you're Moana Queens," Lalissa said. "You don't run. You don't let guys get to you. You stay and you party and you don't give a single fuck what anyone else is doing."

"Maybe I'm tired of being that girl."

"He's getting to you," Octavia said quietly. "Dylan is making you soft."

"No he's not."

"Yes he is," Lalissa insisted. "And we hate seeing it. You've always been the strong one. The one who doesn't let anyone break her down. But Dylan is breaking you down, and you're letting him."

"I'm not letting him do anything," Moana said, but even she could hear how weak it sounded.

"Then stay," Octavia challenged. "Prove it. Prove he doesn't affect you."

Moana looked between her two best friends. They were worried. Genuinely, deeply worried about her. And they had every right to be.

Because they were right.

Dylan Dickson was getting to her in ways no one ever had. He was under her skin, in her head, breaking down walls she'd spent years building.

And she didn't know how to stop it.

"I can't," Moana said quietly.

The admission hung in the air between them.

Octavia reached out and squeezed her hand. "Then go. But Moana? You need to figure out what you're going to do about him. Because this? Whatever this is? It's killing you."

Moana nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

She grabbed her bag, pulled out her phone, and ordered a ride.

"Text us when you get home," Lalissa said.

"I will."