Chapter 2 Juice boy

I turned slowly, considering my options. Maybe I could pretend it wasn't me, or better yet-bolt. My heart sank the moment I realized they were standing directly in front of the only way out.

"...Yes," I muttered, eyeing the boy I was quickly beginning to hate.

It was the first time I got a proper look at him. His green-and-gold eyes weren't exactly forgettable. His hair was somewhere between black and deep brown, tousled in a careless way that somehow worked. He wore a black T-shirt under a faux leather jacket with a speckled gray hoodie lining. His jeans weren't designer, and his black sneakers were the kind you grab on sale, but his gym bag-definitely name-brand. Some expensive sports company.

"Yeah... sorry about that," he said, grinning. "But you've gotta admit-it was kinda funny."

No. No, I didn't.

"Well, you weren't the one soaked in red sugar sludge," I said flatly, slamming my locker door with a satisfying clang.

"Look, I need to go," I added, already stepping sideways. "So if you'd be so kind as to move your giant ego out of my way, that'd be awesome."

"I think she just politely told you to screw off, bro," one of his friends snickered.

I shot a deadly glare in their direction, not entirely sure which one of them said it-juice boy's broad shoulders were blocking my line of sight. I was practically backed into my locker, and he stood way too close for my comfort.

"Thanks for your half-hearted apology," I snapped. "Now please move."

"Only if you tell me your name," he replied, folding his arms across his chest.

His friends copied him like some high school synchronized squad of idiots. Even the one with the scruffy blonde hair was wearing a matching faux leather jacket, clearly trying to mimic their leader.

"Oh, so we're playing 'hostage at the lockers' now?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my words. "What are you gonna do, juice boy-keep me here until I cave?"

His friends burst out laughing.

"Juice boy!" they howled, practically body slamming and fist-bumping each other like they'd heard the best joke in the world.

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Alright, now you've done it. I'm not moving."

Okay. That's it.

I was done with this whole conversation.

"You're not moving?" I repeated with a smirk. "Alright then."

Without another word, I raised my boot and stomped down-aiming straight for his foot. Unfortunately for me, I had the balance of a newborn giraffe and missed completely.

I shrieked and fell forward.

Straight into his chest.

His arms instinctively caught me, holding me upright for a moment that felt... way too long.

I pulled away, mortified. My face turned the color of boiled beets. His cheeks were a bit pink too, which only made it worse-was he blushing from the contact, or just strained from holding me up?

His friends were howling.

Like, actually crying-laughing.

I shoved him back and stormed off without another word.

-Later that week-

Wednesday morning. Second period geography. I was seated beside Lola, who leaned over mid-lecture with a knowing grin.

"So, the guy who was walking with mystery boy-you know, the one I said I recognized?" she whispered.

I nodded slowly, now half-interested.

"Well, turns out I was right," she said, eyes gleaming. "His name is Roman Carter. And he didn't go to our school until, like, three weeks ago."

"Okay...?" I said cautiously, not understanding the big reveal yet.

"He got expelled from his last school. Oaks High. Rumor is he sent some guy to the hospital, and the cops were this close to charging him. His mom had to talk the officers down."

I blinked. "You're serious?"

Lola shrugged. "It's what I heard."

Was it gossip? Probably. But the thought of a semi-criminal casually roaming our halls was unnerving.

"Any updates on mystery boy?" I asked reluctantly.

"Oh, I do know more," she said, grinning wickedly. "But you said you didn't care, remember?"

"Lola, I swear," I groaned. "I need to know his name so I can spend the rest of my high school years actively avoiding him. That's all. I'm not crushing-unlike someone I know."

She raised a brow at me and turned back toward her textbook, clearly offended.

Lunch rolled around. And with Lola still giving me the silent treatment, it was pretty uneventful. I made it to the end of the day without a single glimpse of juice boy, Roman Carter, or any of their obnoxious friends. Maybe my avoidance tactics were finally working.

But as I approached my locker, I saw them.

Stella, Piper, and Lola.

They stood frozen in front of my locker, phones in hand, whispering and scowling like something had just gone very wrong.

My stomach dropped.

"What's going on?" I asked, walking up slowly.

Piper stepped aside, giving me a grim look.

Taped to my locker in a giant frilly pink paper heart... was a photo.

Of me.

In mystery boy's arms.

The moment from the hallway-my face inches from his chest, his arms around me-had been snapped and printed. And it looked like something intimate. Something shared.

And it was out here. Where everyone could see it.

I ripped the paper down, crumpling it in my fists. "It's not what it looks like. Seriously."

"Oh? Then explain it," Stella said, arms crossed. "Because that's not the only place it's been posted. It's on Instagram. And tagged."

"What?" I gasped.

Lola handed me her phone. Sure enough, there it was. Tagged.

My name. His arms. The hallway. Everything.

Now the entire school would think I was head over heels for a boy who practically baptized me in red sugar syrup.

And worst of all-he knew my name now.

I told them everything as we walked off campus, start to finish. And like true best friends... they burst into laughter.

"Oh my God," Stella said between gasps. "You literally threw yourself at him."

"Hope, I didn't know you were that desperate!" Piper howled, holding her sides.

"I was trying to stomp on his foot!" I shouted. "I missed, okay? It's not like I meant to fall into his arms like a rom-com extra!"

"Actually..." Lola said, scrolling on her phone, "the person who posted the photo wasn't him."

"What?" I turned to her, blinking.

"It was one of his friends. Max Stewart. He's in my English class," she explained, showing me the account. The profile pic was a skinny guy with blonde hair and brown eyes.

I recognized him instantly.

He was one of the idiots laughing during the drink incident.

So maybe mystery boy wasn't the evil mastermind after all.

...Or maybe he was just letting his idiot friend do the dirty work.

Either way, we'd need answers-and fast.

"Friday," I said aloud, "we find Max Stewart. And whoever juice boy really is."

"Oh right," I added, turning to Lola. "You do know his name now, don't you?"

She grinned.

"Finally ready to meet your nemesis?"

I nodded. "Bring it on."

Because how can I plot this boy's social downfall if I don't even know his name?

Now that I would.

The battlegrounds were finally even.