Chapter 2

Claire froze, looking up to see her phone lying on the desk behind her, unlocked.

It immediately clicked that Floyd had gone through it.

On Floyd's birthday last year, she had prepared 18 separate gifts, presenting them to him like prized treasures while waving her phone in the air.

"Floyd, these 18 gifts are to make up for the 18 birthdays I wasn't there for. I even changed my phone passcode to your birthday, hoping I can spend every birthday with you from now on."

She had never imagined Floyd would go through her phone. A flare of irritation over her violated privacy rose inside her, but before she could speak a word, Shirley rushed over, her eyes rimmed red with tears.

"Claire, I know you don't like me, but no matter how much you hate me, you shouldn't have contacted the Plimford Unversity admissions office to slander me just to keep them from accepting me," she accused.

"What are you talking about?" Claire said, completely baffled. "They called me because..."

Before she could finish her sentence, the surrounding classmates began shouting accusations at her.

"Stop playing innocent, Claire. We all know the truth. You heard Plimford Unversity reached out to Floyd before finals and agreed to admit both him and Shirley, so you got jealous and sent them a tip-off letter slandering Shirley, didn't you?"

"Exactly. But you never in your wildest dreams expected Floyd to score in the top 20 statewide. Yewhaven Unversity admissions reached out to him too, and he and Shirley have already agreed to go to Yewhaven Unversity together."

"Yeah, they're a match made in heaven—not something a brainless bimbo like you could ever tear apart."

...

Claire finally understood what was going on.

Apparently, Plimford Unversity had decided after due consideration that they couldn't lower their standards to admit Shirley just to secure Floyd.

But someone had spread rumors claiming Claire had sabotaged Shirley's chance, which prompted Floyd to go through her phone.

That call log from the Plimford Unversity admissions office was now being treated as so-called proof. She opened her mouth, about to explain, when Floyd cut her off in an icy voice.

"Claire," he said, his tone dripping with cold detachment. "Don't let me catch you contacting the Yewhaven Unversity admissions team. Otherwise, don't blame me for showing no mercy."

Those words choked back every explanation Claire had been about to offer. Her eyes flickered, and then she lowered her eyelashes. "Fine."

Explanations were meant for people who mattered. But now that she no longer cared, she had nothing left to explain.

Her reaction caught Floyd off guard. Given her personality, he had expected her to deny it, plead her case, or make up excuses.

Yet she said nothing.

A strange, unsettling feeling began to spread through his chest. Before he could dwell on it, a teacher walked in, calling everyone outside for their graduation class photo.

After the photo was taken, a crowd of girls swarmed Floyd, begging for the second button off his shirt. It was the button closest to the heart, and this was a high school tradition symbolizing a gift reserved for the one person kept deep in one's heart.

To everyone's shock, Claire, who used to cling to Floyd more tightly than anyone else, didn't join the crowd.

She simply stood where she was, opening her palm to reveal a delicate silver bracelet. It was the only keepsake her mother, Phoebe Walsh, had left behind.

"Mom," she whispered, "watch me in heaven. I'm going to your alma mater soon."

Back in her day, Phoebe had been a brilliant PSL graduate who gave up her thriving career out of love for Claire's father, settling down to become a devoted housewife.

In return, she got betrayed and died a tragic death in the end. Claire vowed she would never follow in Phoebe's footsteps.

Just as she was making this silent vow, a well-defined hand suddenly reached out from behind her. A cool sensation brushed her palm as a dark gray button dropped into her palm.

Claire blinked in surprise. Looking up, she met Floyd's handsome, refined face.

"Here," he murmured. "This is for you."

Claire stared at the missing button on his shirt, unable to process what was happening. "For me?"

Floyd averted his eyes awkwardly, a faint blush creeping up his earlobes. "Don't read too much into it. I only gave it to you because I promised."

Memory came rushing back to Claire.

Two months before finals, on the anniversary of Phoebe's death, she wasn't allowed to leave campus to visit the cemetery, so she snuck off to the bleachers by the track to cry alone.

Coincidentally, Floyd walked by on his way back from basketball practice. Noticing her puffy eyes, he walked over and squatted in front of her.

"Claire, why are you crying?" His gentle inquiry only made her sob harder.

Flustered, he wanted to wipe her tears, but then he realized his shirt was soaked in sweat. Helpless, he offered, "Stop crying, okay? I'll grant you one wish."

Sniffling, Claire looked up with tearful eyes. "Anything?"

Floyd sighed softly. "Anything, as long as you stop crying."

Claire instantly burst into a tearful smile. "Then I want the second button off your shirt on graduation day."

...

She never expected Floyd would remember.

She stared blankly at the button in her palm, unaware of Shirley standing nearby. The girl's expression instantly darkened into a storm.

Shirley burst into tears. "Claire, you won! I'll go run 20 laps around the track right now."

She turned as if to run off, but Floyd grabbed her arm. "Shirley, what are you doing?"

Shirley bit her lip and said tearfully, "Last night, Claire suddenly wanted to make a bet with me about who you would give your second button to today. She said whoever lost had to run 20 laps around the track."

Claire looked up at Shirley, her face a mask of disbelief. "What kind of ridiculous lie is that? When did I ever make a bet with you?"

Shirley sobbed even more pitifully. "You were the one who brought up the bet. How can you deny it now? I didn't even want to bet with you, but you threatened to cut off all my hair if I didn't agree. I was terrified and had to agree.

"But don't worry. I'm a woman of my word. It's just 20 laps around the track. I'll do it..."

She made a show of heading to the track, only for Floyd to hold her back. He looked up at Claire, his voice dripping with ice. "Claire, did you do this on purpose?"