Chapter 4-The one

I folded my arms and stared at him, letting the words drip from my lips like poison.

"Alright. First off, that is the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard. Second, I’m not interested. And third—get lost."

For a split second, I watched his perfectly sculpted face twitch—just enough for me to catch it. The cool, untouchable, I-own-this-school expression cracked like a thin layer of ice over a deep, ugly pond.

Oh, wow. Did I just bruise the golden boy’s ego?

What’s wrong, pretty boy? First time being turned down?

And no, I’m not sorry. Not even a little. He deserved it. Every. Damn. Bit.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I caught Fitch’s mouth open slightly, ready to spit out some snide comment. Considering the only things that usually came out of that mouth were sleazy promises and cheap compliments, I wasn’t holding my breath for anything remotely intelligent.

But before he could come up with a comeback, the bell rang. Sweet, merciful freedom.

I shoved my books into my bag, snapped it shut, and bolted for the door like a prisoner given a surprise parole.

You know what the best part of a school day is?

That moment—the one where the final bell rings and the entire building exhales, releasing all the pent-up chaos, hormones, and teenage doom into the wild again.

If I didn’t care about looking like a complete lunatic, I would’ve skipped down the hall, belting out some cheesy rock anthem at the top of my lungs, claiming my freedom like a rebel queen. But no. To preserve my already-fragile “normal girl” reputation, I kept it to a tight-lipped smile and a slightly bouncier step than usual.

By the time I made it to my locker, my partners-in-crime were already there. Melissa, with her cool brown hair and calculating gray eyes, leaned casually against the metal door, while Evelyn, all strawberry-blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes, practically bounced on her toes like an overcaffeinated pixie.

Ah yes, my golden duo:

Evelyn, the wild princess with too much energy for one human body,

Melissa, the mother hen who somehow thought she was responsible for everyone’s moral compass,

And then there’s me—the quiet one, the “brain,” the girl with a 4.0 GPA and a low-key escape plan involving a big city far, far away from this suffocating little town.

Only… where the hell were they at lunch?

The two of them were chattering away like squirrels guarding a secret stash, eyes glinting with something I didn’t trust. Excitement? Conspiracy? Both?

I straightened my shoulders like I was suiting up for war, narrowed my eyes, and marched over with my most intimidating glare.

Spoiler: it didn’t work. They saw right through me in about two seconds flat. Damn them.

“Where were you two at lunch?” I jabbed a finger at them, practically poking their smug little faces. “While I was stuck dealing with Antonia going feral on me, were you off… saving the world?”

“We were late.”

They said it in unison, like a pair of badly rehearsed liars. Shrugged too. The audacity.

I opened my mouth to call them out, but Evelyn—bless her twitchy little heart—latched onto my arm with both hands, her blue eyes practically sparking like someone had plugged her into a wall socket.

“Listen! There’s a party tomorrow!”

“A party? On a school night?” I raised a brow.

“Ohhh yes, honey. It’s gonna be huge. Everyone’s going. Literally. Every. Single. Person.” Evelyn squealed, while Melissa rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck.

I dumped my books into the locker, slammed it shut, and followed them toward the parking lot.

“So what’s so special about this party?”

“Tomorrow is Fitch’s eighteenth birthday,” Evelyn sang like it was supposed to mean something.

“And? That’s… what? A headline now?”

“You can’t be serious! He’s turning eighteen! That means—” Melissa elbowed her mid-sentence, shutting her up with a sharp glance.

I frowned at them. “Okay. What’s going on?”

Melissa cleared her throat like she’d swallowed a bug. Evelyn sighed, chewing her bottom lip.

“Let’s just say… tomorrow might be the day our school’s resident heartbreaker finally loses his… freedom.”

I snorted. Loudly. “What, Fitch dying would make the world a better place?”

“No!” Evelyn hissed. “I mean… maybe he’ll find her. You know. The one. And then he’ll settle.”

I stared at her for a long moment… then I laughed. I laughed so hard my ribs ached and I nearly had to grab the locker door for support.

“You seriously think that guy will wake up tomorrow and turn into some loyal, one-woman man overnight?”

They exchanged a look. Nervous. Secretive. Weird.

I scanned the parking lot, eyes locking on a familiar benz parked a few rows down. Of course. There he was. Our man of the hour, the center of our whispered drama.

“Look. Over there.”

They both turned their heads. And there he was—Fitch Jones, in all his shameless glory—leaning against his car, one hand buried in some brunette’s back pocket, lips glued to hers like he was breathing her in.

“Today,” I said flatly, “I caught him with Diana in the janitor’s closet. Then with a different girl in English class. And now? That one. That’s three in one day, ladies. And I’m pretty damn sure he’s just getting started.”

Melissa shrugged. “Yeah. He’s… that kind of guy.”

Evelyn nodded, almost apologetically. “I’m just saying… maybe there’ll be a girl that knocks him off his game.”

“Evelyn, he’s already had his hands, lips, and God-knows-what-else on every girl in this school. Who exactly are you talking about?” I rolled my eyes so hard I swear I saw my brain.

“I don’t know… I’m just saying. People change.” Melissa tried for a smile, but it came out more like a nervous twitch.

These two were acting weird. Too weird.

“You know what?” I unlocked my car and tossed my bag onto the passenger seat. “The day he actually changes, I’ll personally crawl into his bed to celebrate. Mark my words.”

I chuckled, shaking my head, already imagining how ridiculous that would look.

They laughed too, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel included. No, it was the kind of laugh people share when they know something you don’t.

Then they waved me off, exchanged one more strange glance, and headed to their own cars.

I stood there for a moment, the keys cold in my hand, watching them go.

Fitch Jones, settle down? That’s the kind of fairytale that makes me laugh for a lifetime.

And yet… as I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, a thought crept in. Unwelcome. Unshakable.

Tomorrow he’d turn eighteen.

Tomorrow… things might change.

Not because of me. Not because of some girl with too much lip gloss and too little self-respect.

But because in this town, in our kind, turning eighteen didn’t just mean adulthood.

It meant the pull. The claim. The bond.

And God help the girl he marked.