บททั้งหมดของ His beautiful enemy : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 9

The first time I saw Marcel Vance, he was holding a freshman by the collar of his shirt, and I was the only one stupid enough to tell him to let go.The air in Ridgeview High was thick with the scent of cheap perfume, floor wax, and the subtle, electric hum of social hierarchy. It was a different world from my old life in Phoenix, a life I’d left behind in a blur of packed boxes and my mom’s tearful apologies. Here, everyone seemed to know their place. Everyone except me.My best friend, Jess, a whirlwind of fiery curls and infectious energy I’d met only a week ago, was my guide. “Okay, so, the food is toxic, the teachers are mostly ancient, and the social scene is a literal battlefield. See that?” she whispered, nodding towards the center of the crowded hallway.My eyes followed her gaze. And that’s when the world seemed to slow down, the noise fading to a dull roar.He was taller than anyone else, a dark monarch in a sea of mundane subjects. His hair was the color of a moonless nigh

Liam’s smile was like a sunrise—warm, inviting, and utterly disarming. It was the perfect antidote to the cold, dark storm that was Marcel Vance. That was, until I saw the look in Marcel’s eyes as he watched us. The library incident was a turning point, though not in the way I expected. The overt, cheerleader-led harassment died down. I was still a ghost to Marcel, but the whispers were quieter, the hostile stares less frequent. It seemed his silent edict had been changed from ‘make her life hell’ to ‘ignore her.’ I could handle being ignored. It was better than finding my homework in a puddle. But his best friend, Liam, didn’t seem to get the memo. Liam started appearing everywhere. He was in my Creative Writing class, and he’d always turn in his chair to compliment a line in my story or ask my opinion on a poem. He’d walk with me between classes, his tall frame shielding me from the lingering stares of the curious. He was a star on the football team, Marcel’s right-hand man, bu

The parking lot was nearly empty. The last few stragglers from the party had stumbled to their cars, laughing and shouting, oblivious to the tension crackling between me and the boy in the black leather jacket. He had not said a word since he grabbed my wrist and dragged me away from Liam, away from Tiffany, away from the circus of phone cameras and whispered insults.The leather seat was cold against my bare legs. The dress Jess picked out for me, emerald green and hugging every curve, suddenly felt like a poor choice. Too revealing. Too vulnerable. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to disappear.Marcel started the engine. The car purred to life, a low, dangerous sound. He did not look at me. His jaw was tight, his gray eyes fixed on the road ahead."Seatbelt," he said. It was not a request.I clicked the belt into place, my fingers fumbling. The silence was suffocating. Outside, the streets of Ridgeview blurred past, manicured lawns and gleaming mailboxes, houses that cost mor

The game was the biggest of the season. Ridgeview versus Westbrook, the undefeated rivals who had crushed our team last year. The stadium was packed, the air thick with the smell of popcorn and hot dogs and the electric buzz of anticipation. Jess and I sat in the stands with Marcus, who was benched due to a minor ankle injury, his crutches propped beside him.Marcel looked intense during warmups. His black jersey clung to his shoulders, his helmet tucked under his arm. His jaw was set, his gray eyes burning with a fire I had not seen before. He looked like a man on the edge.Liam jogged over to him, clapping him on the back. Marcel did not respond. He just stared at the Westbrook captain, a cocky linebacker named Dylan, who was strutting across the field like he owned it.The game started, and from the first snap, it was brutal. Marcel was a machine, throwing touchdown after touchdown, his arm a cannon, his precision deadly. But it was not enough. Westbrook matched them point for poin

The first date with Liam was perfect in every way a first date should be. He took me to a small Italian restaurant on the edge of town, a cozy place with checkered tablecloths and candles flickering on every table. The smell of garlic and fresh basil filled the air, and the owner, a round woman with kind eyes, greeted Liam by name."You must be special," she said to me, winking. "He has never brought a girl here before."Liam blushed, something I had never seen a football player do. He ordered for both of us, fettuccine alfredo for me, lasagna for him, and we shared a piece of tiramisu for dessert."You look beautiful tonight," he said, his brown eyes soft in the candlelight.I had worn a simple navy blue dress, one of the few nice things I owned, and my hair was down, falling in waves around my shoulders. I felt seen. I felt wanted."Thank you," I whispered.He reached across the table and took my hand. His touch was warm, steady, safe. "I have wanted to do this for a long time, Ashl