Seventeen-year-old Dominic Hutchinson walked with one hand shoved in his pocket. His eyes were cold, rebellious, and completely unapproachable. He radiated a hostility that kept everyone ten feet away.
He walked straight toward Bryn. His dark eyes flicked over her pale face for a fraction of a second before his lips twisted into a mocking sneer.
Dominic raised his hand and slammed his palm against the metal locker right next to Bryn's ear. The loud bang made the students nearby flinch. He boxed her in between his body and the cold steel.
He leaned down. The crisp scent of wintergreen mint and faint tobacco washed over her face. He lowered his voice and told her she looked like a complete idiot today.
Whispers broke out down the hall. Everyone assumed the school tyrant was just starting his daily routine of bullying the Callahan heiress.
In her past life, Bryn would have bristled like a cornered cat and screamed right back at him.
But right now, Bryn didn't flinch. She tilted her chin up and looked directly into the deep, dark abyss of his eyes.
She looked past the arrogant smirk. She saw the broken man kneeling in the mud, crying over her ashes in the freezing rain.
Heat rushed to Bryn's eyes. Without thinking, she lifted her hand. Her warm fingertips lightly brushed against the tense, sharp line of his jaw.
Dominic's entire body went rigid. A flash of absolute, naked panic shattered the coldness in his eyes.
He yanked his hand off the locker and stumbled backward like he had just touched a live wire. A dark, furious red color rapidly spread across the tips of his ears.
"Don't be a psycho," Dominic snapped at her, trying to sound vicious, but his voice came out an octave lower and dangerously raspy.
Bryn watched him panic. A bright, genuine smile broke across her face. She looked at him softly and said, "Good morning to you too."
That simple, gentle greeting dropped like a bomb in the hallway. The whispers instantly died, replaced by the collective sound of fifty teenagers gasping for air.
Dominic stared at her like she had grown a second head. His Adam's apple bobbed hard. He spun on his heel and practically sprinted down the hallway to get away from her.
Bryn watched his broad shoulders retreat. She made a silent vow to herself right then and there: in this life, she would never let him suffer for her again.
"Bryn!"
A loud, overly confident voice called out from behind the crowd.
Keifer Holcomb strutted toward her, wearing his blue and gold varsity football jacket. He flashed his trademark blinding smile, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
In her past life, that smile made her stomach flutter. Now, a wave of hot bile rose in the back of her throat. She felt physically sick looking at him.
Keifer stopped in front of her. He casually reached out to drape his heavy arm over her shoulders, moving with the entitled confidence of a boy who owned her.
Bryn's eyes turned to ice. She took a sharp step to the right. Keifer's hand awkwardly grabbed nothing but air.
His smile faltered for a second. But his massive ego immediately kicked in to protect him. He assumed she was just playing hard to get to make him jealous.
He leaned in close and used a patronizing, gentle tone. "What's this?" he asked, a smug grin playing on his lips. "Are you playing hard to get because I didn't text you back last night? Is this your new little trick to get my attention?"
Bryn stared at his fake, concerned face. The image of his twisted, violent expression as he shoved her off the cliff flashed behind her eyes.
She dug her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from slapping him across the face. She slowly lowered her gaze, staring pointedly at the brand-new, limited-edition sneakers on his feet.
Bryn let out a short, cold laugh. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked Keifer up and down like he was a piece of trash on the sidewalk.
She cleared her throat. She made sure her voice was loud enough for every single person in the hallway to hear exactly what she was about to say.