The cafeteria doors swung open and the noise hit me first—the clatter of trays, the overlap of a hundred conversations, the scrape of chairs against tile. I let the sound wash over me as I stepped inside, my eyes already scanning, already hunting.

There. The corner table by the windows.

Marcus sat with his back to the wall, a hoodie swallowing his frame the way it always did, gray today, loose and soft-looking. His dark hair was messy, like he'd been running his hands through it, and he was nodding at something Isaac was saying, a half-smile on his face that made something in my chest tighten.

And Pearl.

She was already there. Already settled. Already sitting too close to him, her shoulder brushing his arm, her short bob swinging as she laughed at something Tony said. Her baggy clothes swallowed her the way Marcus's swallowed him, and something about the matching energy of it made my teeth grind.

I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, felt the thin fabric of my shirt shift against my skin. The gray I ♥ Pi shirt that Chloe had picked, the letters stretched tight across my chest, the fabric thin enough that I could feel the air conditioning against my nipples. A tiny denim skirt that barely covered the curve of my ass. A visible thong line that I knew every guy in this room would clock before lunch was over.

Let them look.

Let her watch them look.

I started walking, weaving through the tables, letting my hips swing with every step. A few heads turned. A guy I didn't know said something to his friend that I ignored. I kept my eyes on the corner table, on Marcus, on the way his head lifted when he sensed movement in his peripheral vision.

His eyes found me.

I saw the exact moment they did. The way his whole body stilled. The way his fingers stopped moving against the edge of the table. The way his mouth opened slightly, closed, opened again like he was trying to form a word he didn't have yet.

I smiled. Small. Just for him.

He didn't smile back. But his ears went red, and that was better.

Isaac followed Marcus's gaze and his face lit up. "Hey! Lila! Come sit!"

Tony waved, his gangly arm arcing over the table. "We were just talking about the new Ultimate X variant cover—you seen it?"

I reached the table and slid into the empty seat next to Tony, keeping a deliberate space between me and the rest of them. Not too eager. Not too close. Let them come to me.

"I saw it," I said, setting my bag on the floor. "The one with the silver foil on the logo?"

"That's the one!" Tony leaned forward, his glasses sliding down his nose. "It's limited run. Only five hundred copies."

"I know," I said, letting my smile widen. "I already pre-ordered mine."

Tony's eyes went wide. "No way."

"Way." I laughed, and I meant it. There was something easy about this, about the way Tony's excitement was infectious and Isaac was already pulling up his phone to show me something. "My local shop said they'd hold one for me. I've been saving up for like two weeks."

Isaac snorted, his chubby face splitting into a grin. "See? I told you she was legit." He looked at Marcus, then back at me. "Marcus didn't believe you actually read Ultimate X. He thought you were just—" He stopped, his grin faltering. "Uh."

"Just what?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. My voice was light, teasing. I turned to Marcus. "You thought I was faking?"

Marcus's face went redder. His eyes darted away, then back, then away again. "I—I didn't—I mean, I just—" He stopped, swallowed, tried again. "It's n-not every day s-someone like you—"

"Someone like me?" I tilted my head, watching him squirm. I should have let him off the hook. I didn't want to. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He m-means someone l-like you w-who's—who's—" He gestured vaguely at me, at my shirt, at my whole existence, and his hand dropped to the table in defeat. "P-pretty," he finished, the word coming out strangled.

The table went quiet.

Isaac and Tony both stared at Marcus like he'd grown a second head. Marcus looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and die there.

And I—

I felt something warm bloom in my chest. Something hungry and satisfied all at once. He called me pretty. He stuttered through it, his ears burning, his eyes everywhere but mine, and he called me pretty.

"Well," I said, letting my voice go soft. "Thank you, Marcus."

His eyes finally met mine. Something flickered there—surprise, maybe. Like he hadn't expected me to be kind about it. Like he'd braced for mockery and gotten something else instead.

"Y-you're w-welcome," he managed.

I held his gaze for a second longer than I needed to. Long enough for his ears to go from red to crimson. Long enough for Pearl to clear her throat.

"So," Pearl said, her voice bright and brittle. "Cute shirt, Lila. Very... thematic."

I turned to her slowly, letting my smile settle into something Pleasant. Polite. The kind of smile that said I heard you and I'm choosing not to bite. Yet. "Thanks. My friend Chloe picked it out. I thought it was cute."

"It is cute," Pearl said, and her eyes flicked down to my chest, then back up. "I just didn't realize you were into math."

The words landed exactly the way she'd meant them to. Light. Casual. Loaded with implication.

I felt Isaac and Tony both shift in their seats. Felt Marcus's gaze flick between us, the tension settling over the table like something physical.

I kept my smile in place. "I like a lot of things."

"Do you know what Pi is?" Pearl asked, her head tilting, her bob swinging. Innocent. Curious. A knife wrapped in velvet. "I mean, really know? Or did you just think the shirt was cute?"

I felt the heat rise. Not embarrassment. Something sharper. Something that made my fingers want to curl into my palms.

But I kept my voice even. "It's the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. Approximately 3.14159." I paused, letting the silence stretch. "I also know that the symbol is used in a lot of math equations I don't pretend to understand. But I think the shirt's cute, and I like how it looks on me. Do I need to pass a calculus exam to wear it?"

Isaac snorted. "She got you there, Pearl."

Pearl's smile tightened. "I was just asking. No need to get defensive."

"I'm not defensive," I said, and my voice was still light, still pleasant. "I'm explaining. There's a difference."

Tony cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the tension. "Anyway. Lila, you should come to the math competition. It's in three weeks. Regionals. It's actually kind of fun, if you like watching people do math really fast."

"I might," I said, and I didn't look at Pearl when I said it. I looked at Marcus. "I've never been to a math competition before."

Marcus's eyes met mine again. "It's—it's f-fun. Really. We're g-good this year."

"I bet you are," I said, and I let my voice drop just slightly. Just enough. "You're the captain, right?"

His ears went red again. "Y-yeah. I mean. Yeah."

"That's impressive," I said, and I meant it. "Leading a team takes a lot of confidence."

"Or a l-lot of n-nerve," Marcus said, and a small smile flickered across his face. Quick. Almost invisible. But I caught it.

My breath caught.

He almost smiled. He almost smiled at me.

"That too," I said, and my voice came out softer than I'd meant it to.

Pearl's hand moved.

It landed on Marcus's forearm, her fingers curling around the fabric of his hoodie, her nails pressing lightly into the soft gray material. Her thumb stroked once. Slow. Possessive.

"You should come watch us practice sometime," she said, and her voice was sweet now. Sweet and accommodating. The kind of voice that said I'm including you because I'm a good person. "It's in room 204 after school on Thursdays. We're not that exciting, but—" she laughed, a light, airy sound— "you might learn something."

The implication landed like a slap wrapped in silk.

Isaac's fork, which had been halfway to his mouth, paused mid-air. A piece of lettuce dangled from the tines, forgotten. Tony cleared his throat again, shifting in his seat, his long legs knocking against the table leg.

I felt the weight of the moment settle over the table. Felt Pearl's smile, sharp and hidden. Felt Marcus's arm tense under her touch, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

And then he spoke.

"S-she knows p-plenty," Marcus said, and his voice was low. Steady. The stutter barely there. "She r-reads the s-same comics we do. She kn-knows the lore. Th-that's more than m-most people."

Pearl's thumb stilled.

"And math isn't e-everything," Marcus continued, and now his eyes were on her, direct, unwavering. "She's n-nice to us. That c-counts."

Isaac nodded, his fork finally making it to his mouth. "Yeah. What he said."

"Lila's cool," Tony added, pushing his glasses up. "She's the first person outside our group who actually wants to talk about comics instead of making fun of us for it."

Pearl's smile was frozen now. A mask held in place by sheer force of will. "I wasn't saying she wasn't cool. I was just—"

"I know what you were saying," I said, and my voice was still pleasant. Still light. But my eyes were on her hand. On her fingers, curled around his arm. On the way she was touching him like she had a right to. "And I appreciate Marcus and the guys sticking up for me. It's nice to have friends who have your back."

The word friends landed like a blade. I saw Pearl's eyes flicker. Saw her jaw tighten.

She didn't like that word. Friends. Plural. Me, included in their circle. Equally welcome.

Pearl's smile sharpened at the edges. "Oh, I didn't mean anything by it," she said, and her voice was honey now, sweet and sticky and fake. "You're just so cute, Lila, wearing a shirt you don't understand."

Her hand pressed into Marcus's forearm. Her nails dimpled the fabric of his hoodie.

The table went quiet.

I watched Marcus's jaw tighten. Watched his fingers curl against the edge of the table, the tendons in his hand standing out. He was about to say something. I could see it in the way his mouth opened, the way his shoulders squared.

I held up a hand. Just slightly. Just enough.

My smile was fixed. Perfect. Pleasant.

I was about to respond when I realized the whole table was watching Pearl, not me. Isaac's fork was motionless again, the lettuce long gone. Tony had stopped breathing. Marcus's hand was a fist on the table.

And Pearl's smile was sharp and waiting, her fingers still pressed into Marcus's arm like she was branding him.

My eyes narrowed. Just a fraction. Just enough for her to see.

The air between us tightened like a wire pulled taut. And the table held its breath, waiting for what came next.

I let the silence stretch.

One beat. Two. Long enough for everyone at the table to feel the weight of it, to watch my smile flicker and dim like a candle catching a draft. I let my eyes go wide. Let my chin drop just slightly. Let my shoulders curl inward, just a fraction, just enough to make me look smaller.

I was good at this. I'd been good at this since I was twelve years old, learning that the right kind of hurt face could get you out of anything and into anything you wanted.

"Oh," I said, and my voice came out quiet. Small. The voice of someone who'd been caught off guard. "I didn't realize—" I stopped, swallowed, looked down at the table. "I mean, I just thought—"

Another pause. I let my jaw tremble. Just slightly. Just enough for Isaac to notice.

"You know what?" I said, and now my voice was brighter. Brighter and fake, the kind of bright that said I'm trying really hard not to cry. "It's fine. I get it. I'm not—I don't belong here. I was just—" I laughed, a thin, hollow sound. "I don't know what I was thinking."

I pushed my chair back. The legs scraped against the tile, loud in the silence. I reached down for my bag, my fingers fumbling with the strap, taking my time, letting them all watch me gather myself.

"Lila—" Isaac started.

"No, it's okay." I cut him off with a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Really. I should go. I'll see you guys around."

I stood up. My skirt shifted as I rose, the hem riding up just slightly, and I felt the weight of eyes on my thighs. I didn't look at Marcus. I couldn't. If I looked at him, I might break character. Might let him see the hunger underneath the hurt.

I grabbed my bag and turned, my hair swinging, and I walked away from the corner table without looking back.

The cafeteria noise rushed back in as I moved. Conversations I'd drowned out. The clatter of trays. The hum of fluorescent lights. I kept my head down, one hand gripping my bag strap, the other pressed against my stomach like I was holding myself together.

I could feel them watching me. All of them. Isaac. Tony. Marcus.

Pearl, probably, with that sharp little smile still on her face.

I let myself feel the rage for exactly three seconds. Let it burn hot and clean in my chest. Then I tucked it away, smoothed my expression into something softer, and kept walking.

The football table was clustered near the back of the cafeteria, a whole territory of letterman jackets and loud laughter and the smell of sweat and cologne. Derek sat at the head of it, his arm draped over the back of his chair, a girl on either side of him that I vaguely recognized from my chem class.

Chloe was there too. She'd claimed a seat at the edge of the table, her legs crossed, her phone in her hand, looking bored and beautiful in equal measure. She looked up when I approached, and her eyes went sharp.

"Lila?" She straightened, her phone dropping to the table. "What are you—"

"Can I sit with you guys?" I asked, and my voice was still small. Still wounded. I let my eyes sweep the table, landing on Derek. "My table got a little... uncomfortable."

Derek's eyebrows went up. His arm dropped from the back of the chair, and he shifted, making space. "Yeah, of course. Sit." He gestured to the bench beside him. "Plenty of room."

I slid onto the bench, letting my thigh brush against his as I sat. The girl on his other side shot me a look I ignored. Chloe leaned forward, her eyes narrowing.

"What happened?" Chloe asked, her voice low. "I saw you walk over there looking like a queen, and now you look like someone kicked your puppy."

I let out a sigh. Long. Dramatic. I let my shoulders slump as I set my bag on the floor.

"It's nothing," I said, shaking my head. "I just—I thought they actually wanted me there. The nerds. The math guys. I thought we were having a good time." I laughed, hollow again. "But Pearl made it pretty clear I'm not welcome. She kept making these little comments. About my shirt. About not knowing math." I looked down at my hands. "I just felt so stupid."

Derek's jaw tightened. "Pearl? The flat girl with the bob?"

I nodded, not looking up.

"She's a bitch," Derek said flatly. "Everyone knows it. She's been following that stuttering freak around for years, and she gets territorial."

I flinched at the word stuttering. Just slightly. Just enough for Chloe to notice, though Derek didn't.

"I just thought they actually liked me," I said, and my voice cracked on the last word. Perfect. "I thought Marcus and Isaac and Tony were being genuine. But maybe I was just—" I stopped, bit my lip. "Maybe I was just a novelty. The hot girl who reads comics. Something to show off until the novelty wore off."

"That's not true," Chloe said, and her voice was sharp. "I saw Isaac's face when you walked over. He was excited. Tony waved you over. Marcus—" She paused, and I saw something flicker in her eyes. Understanding. "Marcus looked at you like you were the only person in the room."

I let that land. Let it sit in the air between us. Then I shook my head, small and sad.

"It doesn't matter. Pearl made it clear I'm not wanted. And I'm not going to force myself on people who don't want me there." I lifted my chin, blinking rapidly, as if holding back tears. "So I'm done. I'll find somewhere else to sit."

Derek's hand landed on my shoulder. Warm. Heavy. Possessive.

"You can sit here any time, Lila. Seriously." His thumb rubbed against my collarbone, the gesture almost tender. "You don't need those losers. You're way too good for them anyway."

I let out a shaky breath. Let my shoulder lean into his hand. "Thanks, Derek." I looked up at him, my eyes wide and grateful. "That means a lot."

Chloe's eyes met mine over Derek's shoulder. One eyebrow raised. A question.

I gave her the smallest nod. Just a fraction. Just enough.

The game was on.

I turned toward Derek, letting my knee press against his thigh. "So what are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing important," Derek said, his grin widening. "Just game strategy. Coach is running us through drills tomorrow that are going to be brutal."

"Sounds intense." I tilted my head, letting my hair fall over one shoulder. "You like that, though. The challenge."

"Someone's gotta lead the team." He puffed up, his chest swelling. "I'm the one they look to when things get rough."

I smiled. Small. Admiring. "That's impressive."

Across the table, Chloe's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then at me, and her fingers moved across the screen. A moment later, my own phone vibrated in my bag.

I didn't check it. I knew what it would say. What are you doing?

I'd answer her later. For now, I had a performance to maintain.

I shifted on the bench, crossing my legs. The movement made my skirt ride up, and I felt Derek's eyes drop to my thighs. I let the moment stretch, let him look, then uncrossed my legs slowly, deliberately.

"You know," I said, my voice dropping, "I've never actually watched football practice. Is it as intense as the games?"

Derek's grin turned wolfish. "More intense. Less rules. More contact."

"Sounds interesting." I let my hand rest on the table, close to his. Not touching. Close. "Maybe I'll come watch sometime."

"I'd like that." His voice was low now. Private. Like we were the only two people at the table.

I smiled, and this time I let it reach my eyes. Let him think it was for him.

Behind me, I could feel the weight of a gaze. I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. I knew exactly who was watching.

Good. Let him watch. Let him wonder.

I shifted again, this time angling my body toward Derek. I lifted my leg, slow and deliberate, and hooked it over his thigh. The hem of my skirt rode up, exposing the curve of my hip, the edge of my thong visible against my skin.

Derek's breath caught.

I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. "Thanks for letting me sit here," I whispered. "You made my day a lot better."

I pulled back, and his eyes were dark, hungry, fixed on my mouth.

Across the cafeteria, I knew the corner table was still watching. I knew Marcus had seen the whole thing. The leg. The whisper. The way I leaned into Derek like I belonged there.

Good.

Let him sit with that.

Let Pearl think she'd won.

I had three weeks until the math competition. Plenty of time to make Marcus Hayes forget the taste of his own name.

And I always got what I wanted.