Chapter Three

Derek's POV

The place Tyler picked for the night looked like a palace that someone decided to turn into a hangout spot for rich people. It had open ceilings, stone floors that probably cost more than a semester of school, and a pool glowing blue under the lights. Right in the middle of it all was a snooker table, which at the moment Jackson was playing badly.

“You’re aiming like you are blind,” Tyler said while Jackson leaned over the table dramatically. “Making art takes time,” Jackson replied before taking the shot. The cue ball bounced off three edges and rolled directly into the pocket, and the room erupted in laughter.

I honestly just had to be here. Nothing about the place really interested me. “Man,” I said, leaning against the edge of the table, “that might be the craziest shot I’ve ever seen.” Jackson shrugged proudly. “Respect the process.”

Someone had ordered food earlier because we were all starving after practice. The music was low, and the air smelled like chlorine from the pool. For once nobody was arguing about football or about who would be the better coach between Ronaldo and Messi.

Then someone near the pool said, “Food’s here.”

I turned slightly, and that’s when I saw her. She was walking carefully across the stone floor carrying two takeout bags, red hair falling over her shoulder. Curvy…not the kind of curves you see in the media, but real curves. The kind that move naturally when someone walks.

She looked like she didn’t belong in a place like this. Not because she looked bad, but because she looked… normal. And in a place full of people trying too hard, normal actually stood out.

She was looking around, probably trying to figure out where to put the food, when her foot caught on something…maybe one of the uneven stone edges. She tripped suddenly, the bags slipping as she stumbled forward.

“Whoa…!”

She hit the ground hard on one knee but somehow managed to keep the food from spilling. A few guys laughed…not cruelly, but not kindly either. I pushed away from the table before I even realized I was moving.

By the time I reached her she was already trying to stand up. I crouched down instinctively. “Are you okay?”

She looked up at me, cheeks red with embarrassment more than pain. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice steady even though she clearly wished the floor would swallow her whole.

I grabbed the bag that had slipped and handed it back to her. “Careful,” I said.

She nodded once and stood fully, brushing off her jeans like she could wipe away the moment. Jackson walked over with a grin. “Did the food survive?”

She ignored the comment and placed the bags on the table, focused like the only thing that mattered was finishing the delivery.

The teasing started immediately. “Did you run all the way?” someone asked. Another voice added, “Man, check the fries. She probably ate half of them.” A few guys laughed while her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.

But she didn’t argue. She simply pulled the receipt from her pocket and looked down at it. “Sign here,” she said calmly, completely composed.

That caught my attention. Most people in that situation would get defensive or upset. She did neither.

Jackson tossed some cash onto the table. “Keep the change.”

She nodded, picked up the empty bag, and turned to leave. For a second she glanced up, and our eyes met. There was no admiration there, no attempt to flirt…just quiet awareness, like she noticed me the same way she noticed the pool lights or the snooker table.

Then she walked away across the stone floor and disappeared back into the night.

Tyler nudged my shoulder. “Are you into delivery girls now?”

“Shut up,” I muttered, still watching the door she had just walked through.

For some reason I remembered her. I knew she attended my school and usually stayed quiet in class, but seeing her tonight made me feel… something. Don’t ask me what. I couldn’t explain it.

The next morning Ridgewood High looked exactly the way it always did—crowded, loud, and annoyingly chaotic. Everyone pretending they were more important than they actually were.

I leaned against the wall near the gate while Tyler complained about practice. “Coach is going to kill us if we lose on Friday.”

“We’re not losing.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Then Vanessa appeared. My ex always had perfect timing. She stepped beside me like she still belonged there. “You disappeared last night,” she said.

“I had things to do.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Vanessa had been trying to get back into my life for weeks, and it wasn’t working.

“Things? You went partying again?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She leaned closer. “You could’ve texted.”

Before I could answer, one of the cheerleaders walked over and started talking to me about the game. I did my usual thing, flirting effortlessly while tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Vanessa watched the conversation closely, probably wondering what I was saying that made the girl laugh so easily. Her jaw tightened with jealousy… like I cared.

Then something caught my attention near the gate.

Red hair.

The delivery girl.

She was standing near a trash can pretending to examine her shoelaces. I almost smiled.

She looked up, and our eyes met again. She froze immediately, then dropped her gaze and started walking toward the building…right toward me.

She wasn’t watching where she was going.

Which meant she walked straight into me.

Her notebook flew out of her hands, but I caught it automatically. “Whoa.”

She grabbed it back quickly. “Uh… sorry… hi… sorry…”

Then she stepped sideways, but her foot twisted and she tripped again.

Her clumsiness was on another level.

I reached out instinctively and steadied her arm before she hit the ground. She let out a small squeak before quickly pulling away and hurrying into the building like touching me might cause a scandal.

Tyler nudged my shoulder. “Did you break her or something?”

“Apparently.”

Math class later that morning was painfully boring. I dropped into my seat and tossed my bag under the desk. Two rows ahead of me sat the delivery girl.

I still didn’t know her name.

But I recognized her immediately. She was trying very hard to blend in.

The teacher asked a question, and surprisingly she raised her hand and stood up to answer. Unfortunately, her chair betrayed her.

The noise echoed across the classroom…loud and unmistakable.

For a moment the room went silent.

Then the laughter started.

“Oh my God.”

“She farted.”

“She ate so much.”

Her hands started waving immediately. “It’s the chair! Not me!”

Nobody listened.

The laughter only grew louder.

Something about it irritated me. Maybe it was the way she was still standing there trying to defend herself, or maybe it was the fact that half the class suddenly thought they were comedians.

I slammed my hand on the desk.

The sound cracked through the room.

“Enough.”

Silence fell instantly.

I grabbed my bag and walked toward the door. As I passed her desk I stopped for a second.

She looked up slowly, her face bright red with embarrassment but still trying to hold herself together.

“Do you cause a scene everywhere you go?” I asked quietly.

Her eyes widened. “It… it was the chair!”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

Then I walked out of the classroom.

For some reason…

I was smiling.

Because this girl had managed to fall in front of me twice in less than twenty-four hours.

And somehow that made her the most interesting person in Ridgewood High.

At least to me.