LOGINChapter 5
Derek's POV
The cafeteria here at Ridgewood High always made a fuss whenever I walked in. The first thing that happened was it got noisy.
The second thing was it got quiet. It started with people whispering, then chairs moving, then everyone pretending they weren’t staring at me before. I’d gotten used to it over the years. Being the quarterback did that to you. You became like a news headline.
Tyler grabbed a tray and stood beside me. “Practice is going to be tough today,” he said.
“It always is.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Jackson joined us with three plates of food, like he was getting ready for winter. “You guys don’t understand how important it is to eat a lot.”
Tyler made a sound. “You eat like a retired football player.”
We walked toward the tables where the rest of the team usually sat. Then Tyler suddenly stopped. “Oh hey,” he said, lifting his hand to wave at someone across the room.
I followed his gaze and saw a girl with dark hair waving back enthusiastically. She was sitting with someone I recognized right away…auburn hair, delivery girl. The one who tripped.
Apparently the same girl whose chair farted in class this morning. She was eating a sandwich like nothing had happened an hour ago. That’s interesting… really interesting. I liked that.
Tyler nudged my shoulder. “Come say hi.”
“Why?”
“Because Maya is cool… She's a friend.”
I followed him anyway. When we reached the table, Maya was already smiling.
“Tyler!” They started talking like they had known each other for years, which left me standing. Lena Carter was here, pretending to study her sandwich like it was a historic artifact. Yeah… I learned her name today. Her name sounded cool. Lena.
“Is your chair behaving today?” I asked. The boys behind me laughed. She didn’t look up. “It was the chair,” she said calmly. Of course it was. I leaned a bit and noticed she was eating a sandwich, fries, and holding a milkshake in hand…not exactly a light meal.
The comment just came out before I thought about it. “You might want to slow down on the calories,” I said lazily. “Wouldn’t want another… accident.”
Before I knew it, people I didn’t know who were nearby burst out laughing. Usually when something like that happened, people reacted with embarrassment, anger, or sometimes tears.
Lena didn’t do any of those things. She just sat there and took another bite of her sandwich like nothing had happened… that was unexpected.
Across the table, Maya stood up quickly. “Wow,” she said sharply, eyes locked on mine. “You’re really proud of that, huh?” The laughter faded.
I raised an eyebrow. “Proud of what?”
“Being a jerk,” she snapped. Tyler rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Jackson suddenly found the ceiling really interesting.
“Relax,” I said.
“No,” Maya shot back. “You relax… maybe take your ego somewhere else.” She pointed toward the rest of the cafeteria. “You’re not welcome at this table.”
The whole moment had turned weird. Not because Maya was angry…people got angry all the time…but because Lena still hadn’t reacted. She was just sitting there quietly eating fries like the conversation had nothing to do with her. I looked at her. She wiped her hands with a napkin calmly. No embarrassment. No anger. Just normal. That was new.
“Suit yourself,” I said finally. Then I walked away with the guys. Behind me, the cafeteria noise slowly came back. Jackson leaned in close as we sat down. “Dude,” he whispered, “that was brutal.”
Tyler shook his head. “You’re going to get in trouble with that friend of hers one day.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I glanced across the room. Lena was still sitting there with Maya, laughing now. Actually laughing. Like the thing hadn’t mattered. Tyler followed my gaze. “Oh,” he said slowly.
“What?”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Jackson leaned over the table dramatically. “Is this about the chair girl?”
“Stop calling her that.”
Tyler blinked. “Wow.”
“What?”
“You defended her.”
“I didn’t defend anyone.”
My eyes drifted back to her table again, because something about that reaction didn’t make sense. Most people tried to impress me. Hate me. At least react. She didn’t do any of that. She just… didn’t care. Tyler was still watching me like he had discovered something.
“You know,” he said casually, “for someone you just insulted…”
“What?”
“You seem curious about her.”
I leaned back in my chair. Across the cafeteria, Lena Carter grabbed her tray and stood up. She said something to Maya that made them both laugh.
Then she walked out of the cafeteria without looking in my direction, which was enough… It made me want to see her reaction even more.
Because somehow, in a school full of people trying to get my attention, Lena Carter was the only one who looked like she didn’t want it at all.
Lena’s POVI was halfway across the parking lot when shouting from the football field made me stop.At first I ignored it because football practice at Ridgewood sounded violent even on normal days, but then I heard Derek’s name and suddenly everyone started running toward the field like free money had fallen from the sky.My stomach tightened immediately.By the time I got closer, Coach Thompson was yelling, players were crowding around the benches, and Derek was sitting down with blood running from a cut above his eyebrow while the medic argued with him.“I said I’m fine.”“You’re bleeding through your uniform.”“I noticed.”“You probably need stitches.”“I probably need everyone to relax.”Even injured, he sounded irritated instead of concerned, which honestly felt very Derek.Bryan spotted me first and walked over quickly.“You missed the drama,” he said. “Derek punched Carter Mills.”I looked at him. “Why?”Bryan gave me a look. “Because Carter apparently doesn't know what to say
Derek’s POVBy the end of the day, I have officially become Ridgewood High’s favorite topic against my will.Which is saying something considering last month people thought Coach Thompson was secretly having an affair with the cafeteria manager because they were seen buying oranges together at a grocery store.This school survives entirely on delusion and WiFi.The second the final bell rings, my phone starts vibrating like it has developed a personal vendetta against silence.Messages and notificationsFootball group chats exploding.Social media posts already dissecting my “public defense” of Lena like sports commentators analyzing national tragedy.Mason appears beside me while I shove my phone back into my pocket with growing irritation.“You know,” he says thoughtfully, “when people said senior year would be memorable, I do not think they imagined you defending a girl accused of theft like a divorced father in court.”“I hate you.”“No, seriously,” he continues, barely holding ba
Derek’s POVHmmmm….There are very few things more exhausting than walking into Ridgewood High at eight in the morning and immediately sensing chaos before anyone even opens their mouth.Unfortunately, Vanessa Blake has perfected that atmosphere over the years.She does not create scenes loudly anymore because she learned long ago that subtle cruelty survives longer than dramatic cruelty, and the second I spot her near the lockers surrounded by her usual audience of emotionally unemployed cheerleaders, I already know somebody’s day is about to get ruined for entertainment purposes.Then I see Lena.And suddenly the problem becomes predictable.She is standing near her locker quietly adjusting the strap of her bag, expression calm in that careful way she has when she is trying not to attract attention, and for reasons I do not entirely understand, watching her exist like that while people constantly look for ways to tear at her nerves irritates me more every day.Bryan is beside her ta
Derek’s POVHmmmm….There are very few things more exhausting than walking into Ridgewood High at eight in the morning and immediately sensing chaos before anyone even opens their mouth.Unfortunately, Vanessa Blake has perfected that atmosphere over the years.She does not create scenes loudly anymore because she learned long ago that subtle cruelty survives longer than dramatic cruelty, and the second I spot her near the lockers surrounded by her usual audience of emotionally unemployed cheerleaders, I already know somebody’s day is about to get ruined for entertainment purposes.Then I see Lena.And suddenly the problem becomes predictable.She is standing near her locker quietly adjusting the strap of her bag, expression calm in that careful way she has when she is trying not to attract attention, and for reasons I do not entirely understand, watching her exist like that while people constantly look for ways to tear at her nerves irritates me more every day.Bryan is beside her ta
Lena’s POVThere are places inside the Hayes mansion that feel like they exist on a different frequency from the rest of the house, spaces where the air is too controlled, the silence too deliberate, and the instinct to turn away arrives long before logic has time to explain anything.The restricted corridor is one of those places.I should not be here again, not after what I overheard, not after the way Mr Hayes said that name like it belonged to something dangerous enough to bury, but curiosity is not always loud or reckless, sometimes it is quiet and persistent, the kind that follows you until you stop pretending you can ignore it.So I am here..not inside fully.Just close enough to hear.Close enough to feel the difference in the house as the hallway narrows and the temperature seems to drop without reason, like even the walls are careful not to breathe too loudly.That is when I hear him.Mr Hayes.His voice is controlled the way powerful men always sound when they believe they
Lena’s POVThere are certain things inside the Hayes mansion that nobody talks about directly, the kind of things that exist quietly beneath polished floors, expensive furniture, and carefully controlled smiles, and ever since I arrived here, I have noticed small details that feel insignificant on their own but deeply unsettling once they begin collecting inside your mind long enough.Locked doors that nobody explains…and I was strongly told not to approach.Since the Hayes came back there's been late-night conversations that stop immediately whenever footsteps approach.And then there is the restricted corridor near Mr. Hayes’s office, a narrow hallway on the second floor with a dark door at the end that somehow always feels colder than the rest of the house, as though even the air around it understands it is not supposed to belong to anyone else.Nobody goes there.At least not openly.Which, unfortunately, only makes me more curious, because telling an observant person not to wond







