SERAPHINA
The clock was straight-up torturing me with every tick.
Ms. Davidson droned on about social stratification and class mobility like anyone gave a damn. I tuned him out and focused on my flawless burgundy nails instead. Way better entertainment.
That ugly brown paisley tie though? Straight crime.
I leaned toward Tess, who still looked wrecked from last night. "That tie should come with a warning label."
Tess grinned. "Dude definitely lost a bet with his closet."
"Mr. Davison?" I called, voice all honey-sweet.
He turned, eyes lighting up like an idiot. "Yes, Miss Voss?"
"Where the hell did you buy that tie? I need to know which store to never step foot in again."
Class went silent.
Then everyone exploded—laughing their asses off, phones shooting up, people cheering like I'd just dropped the best roast ever.
Mr. Davison's face went beet red. He grabbed that hideous tie like it could protect him.
"I'm just looking out for your reputation, sir," I said, batting my eyes all innocent. "Shouldn't teachers set better examples?"
The laughter got louder. Tess was dying beside me.
When the bell rang, Mr. Davison looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
"Brutal," Tess muttered as we packed up.
I just smiled.
The cafeteria was its usual battlefield of social ranks—everyone locked into their proper territories. But our table sat dead center, commanding the entire room like a throne.
Roman lounged in his chair like he owned the place, broad shoulders and cocky grin on full display. Ethan and Liam flanked him like loyal enforcers. Brittany and Madison sat across from them.
"There's my queen," Roman called the moment I approached. Heads turned across the cafeteria. "Come sit with me, baby."
I slid into the seat beside him with effortless grace. Roman's arm instantly wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. His lips pressed against my neck without hesitation.
Marks again. Lovely.
My eyes swept the room out of habit—who was sitting where, who was watching. Everyone was always watching.
Information was power.
Tess arrived with Travis Clarke, the official Student Council President. I was Vice President, which meant I actually ran things. Travis was just the smiling front.
He jumped straight into planning. "For the charity gala, if we use your father's connections we could lock down the downtown venue. It would save—"
Roman's mouth moved lower, teeth grazing my skin. His hand started sliding somewhere far too bold for the middle of lunch.
My patience snapped.
"Roman," I hissed under my breath. "Not here. Not now."
He didn't stop. His grip tightened, possessive and suffocating.
The cologne I usually liked suddenly felt too heavy. His constant touching felt like chains closing in.
I pulled back sharply, emerald eyes flashing a clear warning. "I need to use the restroom."
Roman finally eased off, smirking. "Don't take too long, baby."
Baby. Like I was his property.
I stood gracefully, smoothing my skirt, chin high. Every eye in the cafeteria followed me as I crossed the room. Let them stare. I always gave them a show.
Three steps from the doors—
Crash.
Noah Callaghan. That pathetic scholarship kid.
His tray slammed straight into me. Hot pasta, thick red marinara, and a full glass of iced tea exploded all over my crisp white blouse and skirt. Cold liquid soaked through to my skin. Red sauce splattered everywhere like fresh blood.
The entire cafeteria went dead silent.
"Oh shit—" Noah choked, eyes wide behind his crappy glasses. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see—"