About Friday

We head toward our lockers together, somehow still functioning as a friend group despite having completely different personalities.

Tara talks nonstop about cheer practice and some ongoing crisis involving matching uniforms while Lizzie stresses over an upcoming chemistry test like failure means public execution.

I listen with half my attention.

The other half stays fixed on the restless feeling brushing along the edge of my thoughts.

June notices it before I do.

Sandra.

My gaze shifts automatically down the hallway.

Sandra stands near the water fountains surrounded by her usual collection of followers. She isn't openly staring at us—she's smarter than that—but her friends keep glancing over in quick little bursts, like cameras tracking movement.

Tara notices too.

Her smile sharpens instantly. "Ugh. Queen B and her emotional-support minions."

Lizzie goes tense beside me.

Sandra has always liked finding insecurities in people and pressing until something cracks. With Lizzie, it started small. Fake concern. Tiny comments disguised as jokes. Little humiliations designed to sound harmless unless you were the target.

One time, one of Sandra's friends "accidentally" knocked Lizzie's books all over the hallway floor.

Sandra had looked at me afterward like she was testing something.

Like she wanted to see how dangerous I actually was.

I warned her once.

Just once.

She backed off after that.

Coward.

Or smart.

Probably both.

"Don't look at them," I tell Lizzie quietly while opening my locker. "Sandra feeds on reactions."

Lizzie nods, though I can still smell nerves beneath her perfume.

Tara slams her locker shut harder than necessary. "If she says something today, I swear—"

"You'll do what?" I ask, amused.

Tara grins slowly. "Ruin her mascara."

June sounds approving.

Violence. I support this.

"That barely qualifies as violence," I answer internally, though my mouth twitches.

The rest of the morning drags.

Humans complain about homework like it's organized oppression. A vampire in my English class spends forty straight minutes staring out the window like sunlight personally insulted him. Two witches in the back pretend they're taking geometry notes while very obviously drawing spell symbols in their notebooks.

By lunch, my patience is hanging by a thread.

The cafeteria is absolute chaos—chairs scraping, people yelling across tables, too many conversations colliding beneath the smell of fries and burnt pizza.

I'm barely through the doorway when arms suddenly wrap around my waist from behind.

"Got you."

I yelp on instinct as my feet leave the ground.

"MATTHEW!"

My elbow flies backward automatically.

Matt twists just enough to avoid taking bone directly to the ribs before dropping me back onto my feet laughing.

"Relax, KitCat," he says easily. "You're getting slow."

I spin around glaring.

"You're lucky I didn't break your nose."

Matt just grins completely unbothered.

"You fight like a raccoon."

He's tall in that effortless athlete way—broad shoulders, dark hair, familiar eyes, and the kind of confidence people spend years trying to fake. Robbie's younger brother. Quarterback. Pack golden boy.

Unfortunately, also one of my favorite people alive.

"Missed you too," he says.

I shove his chest lightly. "You're an ass."

"Genetics."

June sounds entertained.

I like this one. He doesn't posture.

That's because he knows I'd bite him, I reply.

Tara appears beside him almost immediately looking equal parts annoyed and pleased.

"You almost dropped her, idiot."

"I absolutely did not."

I raise an eyebrow. "Since when do you have coordination?"

Matt ignores me completely and casually drapes an arm across Tara's shoulders. She doesn't lean into him, but she doesn't move away either.

Interesting.

I glance between them slowly.

"So," I ask casually, "are you two on or off this week?"

Tara groans instantly. "Cat—"

Matt cuts in smoothly, flashing Tara a sideways grin.

"Well, I'm definitely on if Tara's in the mood."

Tara smacks his chest while laughing anyway. "You're horrible."

"But charming."

"Debatable," I mutter.

Matt points at me triumphantly. "See? She still loves me."

Which is annoyingly true.

Matt has never treated me like something fragile. Never acted weird about my wolf. Never pulled dominance crap or protective macho nonsense.

To him, I'm just Cat.

The cousin who used to jump off roofs with him and start fights during training because we were bored.

He jerks his head toward an empty table nearby.

"You sitting with us or what?"

"Obviously."

We cross the cafeteria together, and some of the tension in my chest eases without me noticing right away.

This feels familiar.

Safe.

Not hierarchy. Not politics. Not expectations.

Just people who know you well enough to annoy you on purpose.

June settles contentedly beneath my skin.

By the time the final bell rings, I'm halfway toward my car when Tara suddenly hooks her arm through mine.

My stomach drops immediately.

"No."

"I didn't even say anything yet."

"You were about to."

Lizzie appears on my other side trying—and failing—not to smile.

"Tara already booked everything."

I stop walking.

"Everything?"

Tara beams proudly. "Everything."

June sounds delighted.

This is how we die.

I stare at both of them suspiciously.

"Just think," Tara says with a wicked grin, "you might finally meet the perfect human guy to pop your cherry."

"Oh my Goddess," I hiss immediately, glancing around the crowded parking lot. "Lower your voice. There are wolves here."

Tara bursts out laughing loud enough that people actually turn around.

"You are SUCH a prude sometimes."

Which is ridiculous.

Wolves are naturally sexual creatures. It's not some purity thing. I just... haven't met anyone tempting enough to deal with the consequences afterward.

And maybe I don't love the idea of somebody suddenly thinking they own pieces of me.

Before I can answer, Tara points a warning finger directly at my face.

"And no backing out this time."

I narrow my eyes. "You sound threatening."

"I am threatening."

I sigh dramatically.

"Fine. But if I end up wearing heels again, I'm blaming both of you."