Torn Between His Rich Lie And Your Poor Love

I dragged myself down the hallway, Freda keeping pace beside me, firing off questions like a machine gun. “What was that about, Zephy? Since when are you friends with Slater King?” “I’m not friends with anyone, Freda. I have no idea what just happened. Okay?” “But he just threatened you. I heard him. Are you in trouble? If he’s going to be a problem, we should report him to the school authorities.” “Jesus, Freda, drop it, will you? I said I’m fine.”My head was still a mess when we stopped at my locker so I could grab a few books. I didn’t even notice the thick and foul smell, until I opened the door and a swarm of flies, each the size of my thumbnail, burst out in a black, buzzing cloud. “Jeez!” Freda yelped. We both jumped back, ducking instinctively. “What the hell…” I straightened, forcing myself to look again. The flies were starting to clear, revealing what was inside. I grabbed a ruler from the corner of my locker and nudged the object into view. My stomach lurched.

“What was that all about?” Oliver asked before anyone could even settle, his eyes locked on mine like he deserved an answer.I’d managed to slip out of the whole Slater King mess in the cafeteria and find my friends again. They were buzzing with questions of what Slater wanted, and why I was so p*ss*d, but I wasn’t ready to spill. Not yet. Especially not after he’d cornered me into keeping it quiet. “Chill it out, man,” Amaya snapped, visibly irritated. “You need to drop this whole overprotective best-male-buddy act. It's getting exhausting. You nearly dragged the school security to our table with that stunt.” “Seriously,” Lana chimed in, folding her arms. “Zephyria’s not a child. Quit it already.” “I know she’s not a child,” Oliver said, his voice low but firm. “But she’s only twenty. The last thing she needs is to get mixed up in some campus drama with someone like Slater.”I swallowed hard, heart still pacing from earlier. I appreciated Oliver’s concern, I really did. But ri

The next morning, Saturday. I dragged my hungover self to the school field for track practice. It wasn’t optional. Everyone had to pick an extracurricular, and I chose track because the adrenaline kept me sane and fit.Let’s not pretend my baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts were just fashion statements. My girls knew the truth, I had a few extra pounds that sunlight wasn’t allowed to see. Before you call me a foodie, it’s called comfort eating. And I’m always stressed.Freda had crashed at my dorm after Slater’s party, and now both of us looked like walking migraines as we stumbled to the field. “You two sure look like you had such a splendid night,” Amaya smirked, as we slumped onto the grass beside them. “My boyfriend said he saw you at the footballers’ party,” Lana added, eyeing me. “I cannot believe Slater invited you, Zephyria. Of all people on campus, he…” “Excuse me, madam?” Freda cut in, voice sharp. “What exactly do you mean by of all people?” “Oh please,” Amaya ro

I had just stepped out of the computer room, where I had spent most of my day retyping my term paper and digging through materials for Slater’s own. By the time I was done, I had already missed two classes. Classes I could have attended if not for the extra grace Professor Wale had given, allowing those who couldn’t meet today’s deadline an additional two days to submit. I was making my way down the quiet hallway, my footsteps echoing faintly, when I heard my name being called. “Zephyria! Zephy! Wait!”I stopped, spine stiff. The voice was familiar, too familiar, and the last thing I wanted right now. My day was already a mess with a milkshake stain still damp and sticky at the front of my shirt, the faint sour smell clinging to me like a cruel reminder, and the weight of Slater’s term paper and essays in my bag.I turned just enough to see him jogging toward me, his usual lopsided grin plastered across his face. “Hi, Oliver,” I said, forcing my lips into something that could pass

The storeroom smelled faintly of dust, bleach, and something stale that made the back of my throat itch. And my sneakers crunched softly over grit on the floor.I’d managed to slip away from Mrs. Levine and from the campus janitor who’d been called to “investigate” the very public rumour about the dead rat in my locker, by promising two things. One, that no other lecturers would have reason to complain about my attendance or assignments. Two, that I wouldn’t give the pranksters another opportunity to make me a target.Right. Like I had control over what who people decided to prank on campus.Now, instead of going back to my room, I was here, on an errand from Coach. Looking for a box of cones buried somewhere among shelves stacked with dusty sports equipment, old trophies, and cobwebs that looked older than the school itself.I was scanning the middle shelf when Lindsay’s voice floated in from the doorway. Light and casual, but laced with that sugarcoated poison she did so well. “Yo