It's the start of a new week in my supposed "do-over," and while the Reid drama— the photo shoot, late-night texts, and overall confusion—momentarily sidetracked me, I've decided to refocus.

Lila and Maddie were right: I didn't owe Reid anything—not a response to his cryptic "Are you up?" message, and definitely not a thirty-minute detour to drop him off at his house.

I mean, he's a grown man. Why not just get a driver's license and drive yourself?

"Uh... aren't you leaving? Class is over," a girl's voice interrupts my internal monologue.

I snap back to reality and glance around. The lecture hall is empty. Great. I managed to completely tune out an entire class.

Why does this Reid situation have to bother me so much?

"Did you get a partner for the homework assignment?" the girl asks, her words pulling me further into panic.

"Wait, what?" My eyes widen.

"The group project Professor Kent just assigned," she says, frowning slightly.

Oh, fantastic. Group work. And I missed the announcement entirely. Could this day get any worse?

"You can join me and my friend if you haven't found a group. We need one more person," she offers.

I practically leap out of my seat and grab her hands. "Yes, please!" I say a bit too loudly, but I don't care. She just saved my academic life.

She laughs and hands me her phone. "Just give me your number, and I'll add you to our group chat. We're meeting at Jean's Café on Wednesday."

I quickly type in my number and hand the phone back, flashing a grateful smile.

"Uh... could you maybe text me what we covered today? And what we're supposed to be working on?" I ask sheepishly, feeling my face heat up.

"Sure," she says, still smiling. "I'm Stella."

"I'm—"

"Oh, I know who you are," she interrupts, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

I blink. "You... do?"

She beams. "I follow you on Instagram! I'm kind of a big fan. I like all your posts, and you once thanked me in the comments. My username's juststella001."

From the way she's looking at me, I can tell she's expecting me to remember, so I force a smile. "Oh, right! Of course. It's so great to meet you in person. Thanks for supporting my posts!"

Lord, forgive me for this lie. What if admitting I didn't know her made her reconsider letting me join her group?

Her eyes light up even more. "I'm having a birthday party this Saturday. You should come! It would mean the world to me."

"Oh, um..." I hesitate. "I'm not really into the party scene right now. I'm way behind on my studies."

"Come on, please? I can even help you study. It'd just mean a lot if you showed up," she pleads.

How did I get myself into this mess? I needed her for the group project, but I really didn't want to go to a stranger's birthday party.

"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. "Just text me the details, and I'll be there."

"Yes!" She squeals, pulling me into a bear hug that nearly knocks the air out of me.

As she runs off, I gather my things and head for the exit, still feeling disoriented. I had one more class before I could retreat to my dorm.

Checking the time, I see it's 12:30. My next class isn't until 2 p.m. I could go to a café and try to study, but I feel too drained to focus.

As I step outside, I spot Oliver a few feet away. He's not looking at me, engrossed in conversation with someone else, but he's heading in my direction.

Panic grips me. I've been ignoring his texts for days, and I can't face him now. Without thinking, I dive behind a nearby bush, crouching low and praying the foliage hides me.

On my knees with my palms flat on the ground, I try to calm my breathing. Then I notice something moving in the dirt.

A centipede. Crawling straight toward me.

My rational thoughts vanish, and I let out a scream, bolting out of the bush while frantically dusting myself off—even though the bug didn't touch me.

Still backing away, I collide with something solid. I whip around and find myself staring at Oliver's chest.

He looks down at me, his expression unreadable.

His friends—clearly from the swim team—are also staring, and so are other students nearby.

Oh, great. Could this day get any worse?

I smile sheepishly, but Oliver doesn't return it.

"Right, you lot go on ahead. I'll catch up," he says, handing his bag, which contains his swim gear, to one of his mates. They nod and walk off, leaving us alone.

Great. Just great.

"So, funny story..." I begin, trying to sound casual.

"Were you hiding behind those bushes because of me?" he asks, his voice calm, but I can see the hurt in his eyes.

"Oliver, I can explain—"

"It's fine. If you don't want to talk to me, you could've just said so, Isla, instead of... well, this." He gestures vaguely toward the bushes, cutting me off. A pang of guilt hits me square in the chest.

"I wasn't avoiding you!" I protest.

"Really? Because I sent you texts all week—all week—worried out of my mind, and you didn't reply to a single one. And now, when you see me, you jump behind some bushes?"

"I know this looks bad, but I swear it's not what you think. I was just—"

His phone buzzes in his hand, cutting me off. He looks at the screen, then at me, and answers the call anyway.

"What's up?" he says briskly.

There's a brief pause before he replies, "Right, I'll be there in a bit."

He moves to leave, but I dart in front of him, blocking his way. "Oliver, please. Can we just talk first?"

"Sorry, but I really have to go." He sidesteps me and continues toward the car park.

I glance at the trail leading to the café, then down at my phone, which reads 12:40. My next class isn't until 2:00, so I still have time. I look back at Oliver's retreating figure, my stomach twisting. I can't let him leave thinking I've been ignoring him on purpose—not when it's not true.

Sighing heavily, I throw caution to the wind and sprint after him. "Oliver, wait! I can explain!"

He's already climbing into his car, but I dart around to the passenger side, yank open the door, and slide inside.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks, his brows furrowing.

"Going with you. I need to explain myself."

"You don't even know where I'm going."

"Doesn't matter. I'm still coming along," I say, buckling my seatbelt.

"Suit yourself," he mutters, strapping himself in before starting the car.

"So, uh—" I begin, but he turns on the radio at that exact moment. A sad, sappy song fills the car, making his eyes widen as he quickly shuts it off.

"I wasn't trying to tune you out just now. That was just... unfortunate timing," he says, a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

I can't help but laugh softly. "I know. And even if you were, I wouldn't blame you."

He glances at me, his expression softening. "Look, I know I can be a bit much sometimes. I've managed to scare off nearly every girl I've talked to, but... it still hurt when you didn't reply. I was genuinely worried."

"I know," I say earnestly, guilt gnawing at me. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for that. I saw your texts, made a mental note to reply, and then just... forgot. And when I saw you earlier, I panicked. It was like a lightbulb going off—'Oh, right, I need to text Oliver back!'" I take a deep breath. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, and I really appreciate you checking in on me."

His cheeky smile returns, and the tension in the car eases. "I'm just glad you're all right," he says.

I relax into my seat, grateful the air between us has cleared. "And for the record," I add with a grin, "you haven't scared me off yet."

"That's because you're weird," he teases.

"Hey!" I laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder.

"I mean it in a good way," he says, smirking.

"So, are you going to tell me where we're going?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I would, but I haven't a clue. I'm just looking for him."

"Him?"

He takes a turn and nods toward the road ahead. "There he is."

I follow his gaze and spot a figure I'd recognize anywhere. Reid is walking aimlessly down the street, his bag slung over his shoulder.

Oliver pulls up beside him and rolls down the window. "Oi, mate, get in. Red called, said she kicked you out of her car. What were you thinking, wandering about like this?"

Reid's eyes narrow as they land on me in the passenger seat. "What's she doing here?" he asks, ignoring Oliver entirely.

My stomach twists. So he was with Red. Why does it still sting to hear that?

"Are you getting in or not?" Oliver asks, a note of impatience in his voice. "We'll be late for practice if you don't."

"Whatever," Reid mutters, climbing into the backseat.

I keep my eyes on my lap, hoping to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but I can feel it. My traitorous eyes glance at the rearview mirror, and sure enough, he's staring directly at me.

His smirk appears, lazy and infuriating, and I quickly look away, cursing myself for sneaking that glance.

The car ride back to school is painfully awkward.

Oliver hums to himself, tapping the steering wheel in rhythm with a song only he seems to hear. Reid, on the other hand, sits silently in the backseat, his presence like a weight pressing on my shoulders. Every time I glance at the rearview mirror, I catch him watching me, his expression unreadable. It's like he's daring me to acknowledge him, and I stubbornly refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Oliver, oblivious to the tension, breaks the silence. "So, Isla," he says, his tone far too cheerful for the current atmosphere, "any big plans for Friday?"

"No," Reid exclaims and I look back confused.

I hesitate, still trying to get a read on Reid's mood. "Uh, nothing much. Just class and then studying, I guess."

"Hmmm," Oliver says with a chuckle. "You should come to our swim meet on Friday. It's against Berkeley—biggest meet of the season."

I blink, caught off guard. "Oh, I don't know..."

Before I can even form a proper excuse, Oliver glances at Reid through the mirror. "Reid, you should tell her how epic our meets are. The energy, the crowd—it's mental, isn't it?"

Reid doesn't even look up. "Sure. Whatever," he mutters, his tone flat. He shifts his gaze out the window like the conversation doesn't interest him at all.

The irritation bubbles up before I can stop it. Why does he have to act so indifferent all the time?

"Fine," I say abruptly, forcing a smile at Oliver. "I'll come."

Why did I just say that? Watching Reid swim again will only bring up painful memories.

Oliver's face lights up, and the sheer excitement in his expression makes me feel like I've just promised him the world. "Brilliant! You won't regret it. We'll smash them, and you'll see me crush the 100-meter freestyle. It'll be epic, I promise."

I nod, but guilt creeps in as I watch him grin. He's so thrilled, and I can't shake the feeling that I agreed for the wrong reasons—not because I actually want to, but because I was annoyed at Reid.

When we pull into the school parking lot, I unbuckle my seatbelt quickly, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere. "Thanks for the ride, Oliver," I say, already opening the door.

"Wait, let me—" Oliver starts, but Reid cuts him off by throwing his own door open and stepping out.

"See you at practice," he says curtly, his voice directed at Oliver. Then, without so much as a glance my way, he strides off toward the locker rooms.

Annoyance flares again. He didn't even care enough to react. Not a smirk, not a sarcastic comment—nothing. It's like my presence barely registers to him.

I glance at Oliver, whose grin hasn't faded. He looks so genuinely happy that I agreed, and the guilt gnaws at me even more. I feel like a terrible person, caught between the sweetness of Oliver's enthusiasm and the frustration Reid stirs in me.

"See you Friday?" Oliver asks, hopeful.

"Yeah," I say, forcing another smile. "Friday."

But as I walk away, my mind is already racing. Why does Reid always manage to get under my skin? And why do I feel like my entire week just got a lot more complicated?

None of this plans were in my planner for this week.

I glance over my shoulder one last time, catching sight of Reid in the distance. He's leaning against the doorframe to the locker room, arms crossed, watching me with that same unreadable expression. Our eyes lock, and this time, there's no smirk—just something in his gaze that makes my heart skip.

Then, just as quickly, he turns and disappears inside, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Like why the hell he sent me that message last night.

Authors note:
So is Reid getting on all our nerves? I sense a Reid POV coming soon.