Riley stepped into Crestwood Elite Academy's grand hallway and immediately felt out of place. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, the marble floors gleamed so bright she could see her reflection, and the students walking past her looked like they'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine.
Her scuffed boots squeaked slightly against the floor, and she quickly adjusted her backpack over one shoulder, lifting her chin. She might not have the money or the pedigree, but she had grit—and that had gotten her this far.
"Excuse me," she asked a tall girl wearing designer everything, "do you know where Room 2B is?"
The girl looked her up and down like she was a bug. "Try down the hall and to the left… peasant."
Riley snorted. "Thanks, Your Majesty."
As she walked off, the girl scoffed, but Riley didn't look back. She was used to being judged—her clothes, her hair, her background—but what these rich kids didn't know was that none of that would break her.
In Room 2B, the moment she stepped in, everyone turned to stare. Her tomboyish hoodie and ripped jeans didn't exactly scream "Crestwood standard." She ignored the stares and chose a seat at the back.
A few minutes later, the door swung open, and Zayden Adrian strode in like he owned the place. His hair perfectly tousled, his uniform collar undone just enough to look rebellious, and his expression—cocky, unreadable.
Their eyes met.
And he smirked.
"You again?" he said, walking right past a row of whispering girls and dropping into the seat next to her.
Riley looked at him sideways. "Of all the seats."
He leaned closer. "I wanted the best view."
She rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. You're the top of the social food chain here."
"Top of everything, sweetheart."
She faced forward. "I'm not your sweetheart."
He chuckled, low and lazy. "Not yet."
The teacher entered and the room quieted, but the tension between them didn't. Zayden leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, but Riley could feel his gaze on her. Watching. Testing.
As the lesson dragged on, Riley focused on taking notes, trying to ignore the fact that every time she looked up, he was staring.
When the bell finally rang, she packed her things in a rush.
"Riley Morgan," Zayden called after her as she stormed out.
She paused, turning halfway.
"I always remember a name when it crashes into my car."
She scoffed. "Keep remembering. I'm not going anywhere."
And just like that, the battle lines were drawn.