I Refuse To Like You

I pull into the school parking lot with music rattling my windows, some punk track I don't even like anymore but refuse to delete because Kieran hates it.

Ever Best High hasn't changed. Same faded parking lines, same smell of exhaust and sharp perfume, same idiots blocking traffic to hug people they saw two weeks ago. A freshman sprints past my bumper, tie flapping probably late already.

Huh? Since when do they wear a tie?

Hmm. Must be another weird Gen Z trend. Tsk, tsk. Kids these days.

Anyway, I made it to the final semester of high school. The finale of dealing with Kieran. By graduation I'll never have to see Kieran Lockwood again.

...

Tsk. Who am I kidding?

Our parents have been friends forever, so that weed is never getting uprooted. I seriously detest him, though. Nobody remembers why we hate each other and we both stopped caring.

I check Kieran's space. It's empty. Nice! I get a few more minutes of air before he shows up. It'd be great if he never came to school.

Kieran and I don't share the parking space. Years ago, we claimed opposite ends of the same row. Nobody else parks in the space between us anymore. Not after several conflicts involving paint, glitter bombs, and one inflatable swimming pool.

I see my best friends, Lydia and Robert-Robin, as I insist on calling him-standing outside the main entrance exactly where they usually are. Lydia's hands are flying, her voice reaching halfway across the parking lot, while Robert stands there wearing his signature half-casual-half-annoying smile.

Typical.

I climb out of my car, slinging my backpack over one shoulder, and walk toward them. I wave yet neither of them looks at me.

Excuse me?

"You're exaggerating," Robert says calmly, despite Lydia's glare.

"I am not exaggerating," Lydia snaps. "I'm saying people should have boundaries! Just because a girl invites you to her house, doesn't mean she's begging to get fucked!"

"That's exactly what she's begging for if she opens the door in clothes that barely count as clothes."

I know that tone. He's not serious-he's just digging for a reaction. And Lydia's giving him exactly what he wants.

"That doesn't count!" she stomps her foot.

I stop a few feet away and blink.

This is what they're ignoring me for?

I raise both hands. "Okay... I'm clearly missing something."

"Kara." Lydia whirls on me like I'm the solution she's been waiting for. "Back me up."

"I absolutely refuse."

Lydia narrows her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I've been standing here for, what, four seconds? Maybe five if we're being generous."

She frowns.

I only shrug, completely unapologetic.

"How am I supposed to pick a side when I don't even know what we're fighting about? You could be arguing about another load of bullshit again."

Robert lets out a snort, quickly covering his mouth with his fist when Lydia shoots him a glare, her hazel-brown eyes practically turning red.

Lydia drags a hand down her face before pointing at him. "You're insufferable."

"And you're dramatic."

She scoffs loudly enough for three nearby freshmen to glance over before turning on her heel, her brown hair whipping his face, and marching toward the building.

I watch her go, then turn to Robert, raising an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

He shrugs. "No idea. I said something, she disagreed, and now I'm the problem."

"Robin, when have you ever not been the problem?"

He grins.

I study him with a squint. "Robiiiiin."

He sighs, but avoids my gaze. "Don't start."

"You started something," I say, my brows knitting as I notice his hair. What has he done to it? His usual dark brown has been dyed neon green. I'm not even going to ask why. There's barely ever a tangible reason with this guy.

"It wasn't even that serious."

I stare at him, deadpan. "What did you say?"

He hesitates, the corner of his lips twitching.

"I mentioned someone I hooked up with over the break," he admits.

I click my tongue. Of course.

Lydia isn't mad about the topic. She's mad it was him saying it. They'll never stop with this back and forth.

Well, not my circus, so not my monkeys.

"So," he says quickly, clearly changing the subject, "how was your holiday?"

I don't answer because I already know where this is going.

"With Kieran?" he adds, grinning wider.

There it is.

I glare at him. "Say that again and I will personally demonstrate what a punching bag experiences daily."

He laughs.

I hate him.

"It wasn't that bad." He nudges my shoulder.

"It was that bad," I snap. "Being stuck at his stupidly perfect beach house because of our parents is not a vacation. It's torture."

"Sounds relaxing."

"Keep talking."

He raises his hands in surrender, still smiling. "Fine. I'll stop."

"Wise decision."

We start toward the building together. For a moment, things almost feel normal. Almost. Until I reach my locker.

I open my locker and instantly regret it.

Slime explodes outward, coating my clothes, my hair, and my face. Then it's followed by a shower of glitter that sticks to everything like it's personally invested in my humiliation.

The hallway erupts into laughter. Someone flashes a camera. I go still, goo sliding down my cheek, while glitter sticks to my eyelashes. I wipe my face on my sleeve, then rake slime from my blonde hair with my fingers.

Well, that's useless.

My shoulders tense when I hear a familiar laugh and a frown automatically twists my lips. I turn around.

Of fucking course.

Kieran stands a few feet away, hands tucked casually into his pockets and a stupid smirk on his face. His white self-imposed uniform is, of course, spotless. Dark hair falls across his forehead. His eyes find mine and he winks.

A chill runs down my spine. I unconsciously take a step back, but my heel hits the locker.

This white-obsessed clean freak.

I still have no idea how someone survives an entire school day looking like a laundry detergent commercial.

"Welcome back," he says smoothly.

I glare at him. We've spent the last ten years sabotaging each other, yet somehow neither of us has managed to win. And this... this is how he wants to start our final semester?

Fine.

Let's play.

My eyes find Robert. I march past Kieran and straight to Robert, wrapping both arms around him. Why? There's no way Kieran pulled off this prank without Robert knowing because Robert is a friend Kieran doesn't joke with. He betrayed me.

"Kara!" he yelps, immediately trying to peel me off. "What are you doing?"

"Sharing."

His body goes rigid. "...No."

"Oh yes."

"Kara!"

"It's called friendship."

"It's called assault!"

Lydia chooses now to come back.

The second she sees Robert's glitter-covered shirt, slime smeared across his shoulder, and my very satisfied smile, her eyes light up.

"Oh," she laughs. "That is beautiful."

Robert groans, dropping his hands from my shoulders.

I let him go, patting his shoulder as I step back. "There. Now we're both victims."

He stumbles back, horrified. Then looks at Kieran with an accusing, bitter glare.

I look up and find Kieran still watching me instead. The smug smile hasn't left his face. But something behind it has shifted. Obviously annoyance for getting goo on his precious Robert.

Using Robert works against him. And it's a good thing I prepared something extra special for him.

I sit in class tapping my fingers against the desk as I wait for Kieran. The room is chaotic-laughter, chatter, chairs scraping-but none of it holds my attention. It never does when I know Kieran hasn't walked in yet. Mostly because arriving before Kieran usually means he's up to something, getting a quickie somewhere, or sick.

My bet's on the second.

I sit beside Robert. Lydia and Rihanna claim the seats directly behind us. Nina bounces into her seat to my right, notebook out before the bell. Beside her, Bianca settles into her seat, frowning at her nail polish.

I look around the classroom and spot the rest of the cheer squad. Charlotte is the most noticeable, already mid-conversation about some Filipino drama. She looks excited.

The door opens, and Kieran strides in, surrounded by his usual group of blockhead friends, all of them talking over one another. They're always loud and disorganized... oh, wait. That's me and my friends.

I push back my chair and cross the room, a sweet smile settling on my face. I make my way toward Kieran's designated desk, where, just like at mine, my closest friends are gathered.

"Kieran and his lapdogs-minus Hudson-I command you all to kneel!" I shout, startling a few students with the sudden outburst, including them.

Kieran recovers first, pursing his lips and glaring at me. His eyes practically scream: What does this crazy bitch want now?

I beam and gesture to the floor. "Go on. Woof woof," I say with a smirk, deliberately looking down on them.

Neither Kieran nor his morons move at first. Hudson does, though. When they fail to figure it out, just as I planned, Kieran sits first, folding his arms in defiance. His friends follow.

Perfect.

I perch myself on the edge of Kieran's desk, then lean forward slightly. Kieran watches me with wary confusion, his body tense and ready for any unexpected attack.

He flinches when I raise my hand, but doesn't move. I tap his head with my fingers, grinning from ear to ear. "You do realize I'm getting you back for this morning, don't you?"

He pulls his head back, away from my fingers. "I'll be waiting," he replies without hesitation.

I smile, leaning in closer, deliberately invading his space until he's forced to lean back, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before he smooths it over. "What is your problem?" he asks, smacking my hand away.

"You're cute when you're confused," okay, I did not mean to say that.

Internally, I facepalm. That was unnecessary. Foolish, even. I want to bury myself.

"Kara, did you get high yesterday?" Shade, Kieran's best friend and Robert's stepbrother-yes, that Robert-asks from somewhere behind him, his tone calm, almost curious.

I avert my eyes in his direction and attempt to offer him a smile, but the sight of his face makes my lips twitch. He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. Robert did mention that Shade has been having difficulty sleeping, but I didn't think it'd be this... Wait a minute. Why should I care?

I tear my gaze away and shrug, fixing my eyes on Kieran again. He's looking at me like I'm growing a second head before his very eyes.

Time to sow the seed of catastrophe.

I lean in with one smooth motion and press a quick kiss to his lips.

Silence hits first.

Then the reaction follows-gasps, sharp intakes of breath, and exclamations. I hear Lydia shout "What the fuck!" too.

Kieran freezes or loses his soul, don't care.

And then the door opens and the teacher walks in.

Sweet!

I pull back, sliding off the desk like nothing happened. "Later." I mouth. I give a flirty wink, then break into laughter from looking at the flabbergasted expression on his face. I turn and return to my seat, laughing.

That was disgusting but the final result will be worth it.

"This is going to be fun," Rihanna whispers from behind me, her voice amused, already entertained.

Robert lets out a quiet chuckle in agreement.

"Good morning, Mr. Donald," the class greets in uneven unison as the teacher steps behind his desk, glancing around with the look of someone already tired of us.

"Do you remember the last assignment I gave before the end of last semester?" he asks briskly, setting his things down.

A scattered chorus of "yes" follows-some enthusiastic, most not. I fall firmly into the latter. There is nothing exciting about schoolwork, and I refuse to pretend otherwise.

"Robert," he continues, "come show everyone what you worked on during the break."

Robert is on his feet immediately, easy, confident smile already in place as he makes his way to the front. He thrives in situations like this.

"I worked on this," he says, holding up a pen with unnecessary pride. "A flash camera pen. If I press this button, it emits a bright light strong enough to temporarily blind everyone."

He pauses, looking around. "Should I demonstrate?"

"No!" the class shouts in near-perfect unity.

Mr. Donald nods approvingly. "Always prepared, Robert. That's why you're class president."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I know for a fact that pen has nothing to do with science, but there are rules to friendship, and one of them is simple-never expose your best friend in public.

"Clever," Lydia mutters.

It's not, Lydia. Our dearest Robert is a fraudster.

I lean back slightly, letting my gaze drift around the classroom. I'm bored.

"Kieran," Mr. Donald calls next, his tone already laced with disapproval, "what did you work on during the break?"

Kieran doesn't move. He leans back, legs stretched, hands behind his head. "I worked on managing multiple commitments," he says casually.

Of course he did.

Mr. Donald exhales slowly. "That's an F. No extra credit."

"I don't need it," Kieran replies with a grin. "Not everyone has the brain of a dodo." He glances at me as he speaks. That's clearly a jab at me.

My fists clench against my thighs, and I grit my teeth. Just because he's always at the top of the class doesn't mean he's all that. Just you wait, Kieran.

"And yet," Mr. Donald says dryly, "you use that genius mind for nothing but petty pranks and girls."

Kieran clicks his tongue, amused by his own existence, and the teacher moves on before the situation gets any more ridiculous.

"Lydia."

She's already halfway out of her seat before her name leaves his mouth. At the front, she clears her throat, grins, and launches into a cheer routine, finishing with a split.

The class erupts into laughter.

Mr. Donald does not.

"Lydia, is that what you learned over the break?" he asks, clearly unimpressed.

"Absolutely," she replies without shame.

"F."

"Not my first," she says lightly, pushing herself up and returning to her seat like nothing happened.

Robert laughs harder than anyone else, which is telling.

"Nina," Mr. Donald calls.

She rises quietly, moving to the front with none of Lydia's theatrics. "I worked on generating energy using citric acid," she explains, already setting up a small demonstration. She connects wires to a lime, plugs it into her phone, and within seconds, the screen lights up-charging.

The reaction is immediate-genuine this time.

"Very good, Nina," Mr. Donald says, clearly pleased. "You'll receive extra credit."

She nods softly, returning to her seat without drawing any more attention to herself.

"Miss Queen," he says next, turning his attention to me. He looks like he expects absolutely nothing from me. The nickname is pure sarcasm.

I smile as I stand, already holding the can in my hand as I make my way to the front, aware of Kieran's gaze without needing to look at him.

"Let me guess," Mr. Donald says, eyeing it with mild irritation, "another cosmetic experiment?"

I don't answer him.

Instead, I turn my head slightly and meet Kieran's eyes, offering him a slow, deliberate wink.

Payback time.

"So, what exactly did you work on, proletariat princess?" Mr. Donald asks, sounding deeply unconvinced.

I raise the can in my hand, smiling proudly. "I call this the Touch-and-Stay Glue."

Mr. Donald narrows his eyes. "That sounds concerning."

"It should," I reply cheerfully. "This glue can stay on a surface for years without drying out, but the second another object touches it, it bonds immediately. And the best part? It gives off natural warmth, so nobody suspects it's there." I grin wider. "Perfect for ruining someone's day."

The class immediately turns toward Kieran.

Mr. Donald sighs. "And you made this yourself?"

I nod enthusiastically.

He looks even less pleased. "Demonstrate."

"Oh, gladly." I turn toward Kieran with delight. "He'll help me."

"You wish," Kieran scoffs instantly.

"No wonder you invented it," Mr. Donald mutters under his breath.

I ignore him completely and smile sweetly at Kieran. "Stand up, please."

For one second, he just stares at me, puzzled. Then his eyes widen with realization.

Kieran plants both hands on the desk and tries to stand, but that's not happening. Not with my masterpiece firmly attached to his ass.

"Fuck, Kara!" he snaps, jerking again uselessly. "What did you do?"

I blink innocently. "Isn't it obvious?"

Lydia laughs, nearly falling off her chair. "She glued you to the seat."

"Give it a few more minutes and his circulation's gonna cut off entirely," Rihanna adds, high-fiving Lydia while the class laughs.

Even Shade looks like he's fighting laughter. Poor thing doesn't realize he's stuck too. I smeared the glue on more than four seats.

Mr. Donald pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wonderful work, Kara. Very creative. Now release him."

"What fun would that be?"

"You'll get a C."

I gasp dramatically. "A C? My mother's going to frame my report card."

His expression hardens. "An F, then."

"Still iconic," I sing as I return to my seat.

Kieran glares at me with a murderous look as he tries to free himself again. The chair screeches across the floor, but he doesn't move an inch. The glue has him firmly stuck to the seat. If he wants freedom, he'll have to strip down to his underwear. That's assuming the glue hasn't reached his skin, which I strongly suspect it has.

Worth it.

Mr. Donald eventually gives up trying to reason with me and continues the lesson while Kieran and his hooligans remain trapped. The longer they sit there, the stronger the attachment.

After Mr. Donald's class ends, Mrs. Gale walks in just as everyone starts packing up. The second her shoes click against the floor, a collective miserable sighs settles over the room. Nobody likes her manners class. Nobody.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and head toward the door with my friends.

Mrs. Gale glances toward the back of the room where Kieran and his friends are still beautifully stuck. Her face brightens when she sees them. "Kieran and company, you're staying behind?"

"Yes," I answer for them before anyone else can speak. "They decided to 'stick around'."

Laughter explodes behind me.

"Kara!" Kieran and his friends shout at once.

I wave lazily over my shoulder and continue walking. The day's gonna get better and better.

***

"Karana," Mr. P says with an exhausted exhale, "please release them."

Nobody calls him Principal. Not students, not staff, not even his own daughter. He's just Mr. P. Just like how he likes calling me by my full name. I hate my full name.

And currently, he looks seconds away from early retirement.

I sit comfortably in the chair across from the teacher's desk, grinning from ear to ear while Kieran and his friends remain trapped in their seats. "No," I singsong. "They have to beg first."

"Over my dead body," Kieran says sharply.

I smile pleasantly. "Then perish."

Mr. P sighs deeply, already tired. "Kara, please don't make me call your mother again."

Technically, he should've expelled us at least twelve incidents ago, but unfortunately for him, family ties make that impossible. Not only are Kieran's parents-his older brother and sister-in-law-best friends with my parents, but I'm also best friends with his beloved daughter, Rihanna.

Which also means, yes, Kieran and Rihanna are cousins.

Unfortunate, isn't it?

"Call her," I challenge.

Rihanna clears her throat beside me.

Right.

That's still her father.

I straighten slightly. "I mean... he should still beg."

"I'd rather die glued to this chair," Kieran says flatly.

"Beautiful. Stay committed to the vision."

Hudson's voice suddenly cuts through the argument. "Kara, I genuinely didn't do anything to you."

I avert my gaze to him.

Unlike the rest of Kieran's group, Hudson is impossible to hate properly, which is honestly irritating. He has ash-blond hair that constantly falls into his face, and soft hazel eyes so large they make him look permanently innocent, and the kind of face people instinctively trust within seconds of meeting him. Even when he's annoyed, he somehow still looks painfully polite.

It doesn't help that he's genuinely nice either.

He stays out of our wars, avoids unnecessary drama, and mostly follows Kieran around like a very tall emotional support puppy. Bianca has been hopelessly in love with him for ages because apparently kindness and big eyes are all that matters.

"Why did you glue me too?" he asks again, pouting slightly.

"Because you were nearby," I reply.

"Because you're cute," Bianca corrects softly from behind me.

Hudson turns to her, his pout somehow growing even sadder. "Please release us," he says gently. "For your favorite person."

Bianca's face turns red almost instantly.

Oh, brother.

"Pleaseeeee?" Hudson drags out shamelessly.

Rihanna clutches her chest dramatically. "That should honestly be illegal."

I stare at Hudson in annoyance. "Stop weaponizing your face."

He smiles innocently.

Which somehow makes it worse.

Bianca already looks seconds away from melting.

"Fine," I groan at last, standing up before I'm forced to witness any more of whatever this is. I reach into my bag, pull out the second bottle, and throw it directly at Kieran's head.

It smacks him cleanly.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"That's the dissolver," I explain.

Hudson brightens immediately. "Thanks, love."

Behind me, Bianca giggles so hard it makes me cringe. I point at her accusingly. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"She's in love," Rihanna says solemnly.

"Shut up," Bianca mutters.

I grin, satisfied with the outcome of the first punishment. "My work here is done." Then I lean toward Mr. P and kiss his cheek. "Bye, Mr. P. Love you."

He sighs while ruffling my hair before lightly pushing me toward the door. "Please leave my school before I lose my remaining sanity."

"Bye, Dad," Rihanna calls sweetly as we leave.

The second I step into the hallway again, Kieran's voice follows behind me.

"I hate you!"

I don't bother turning around. It'll ruin my dramatic exit.

"Suck it up, dick!"

I continue walking with the girls, almost breaking into a skip. I'm telling you, nothing tastes better than revenge or pulling your enemies down a peg. And the best part is, I'm not done with Kieran Lockwood today.