Izzy

I've never had to worry about fitting in.

Growing up, I always seemed to make friends, and having good looks didn't hurt, either. It's not meant to sound cocky, it's just the truth. Leighton Academy consisted of Los Angeles's most elite group of teenagers stemming from the wealthiest families. But with that being said, our class wasn't any larger than one hundred or so students, so it was a place where everyone knew everyone. Any fuck-up you made, the entire school would know about it within minutes.

So even though I could make friends with the snap of my fingers, I kept my circle small. Christy Crow, the daughter of world-famous musician Marilyn Crow, has been my best friend since the sixth grade. Out of the two of us, I'm the wild child who can convince her to do almost anything, and she's my voice of reason—the little angel on my shoulder to tell me right from wrong. She's currently trying to persuade me not to go to Zane's party tonight and failing epically.

"What if you get caught?" She asks. "I heard that his last party got shut down after only an hour. They're insane."

My eyes become alive at the potential. "All the more reason to go, Christy! Come on. Are you seriously going to sit at home on a Friday night? How lame is that."

"It's easy for you to say when your parents won't check to see where you're at. My mom will literally kill me once she finds out that I'm gone. I can't get away with it like you can."

My heart falters just a smidge as she stuffs another bite of yogurt into her mouth. There are times that I wish my parents would be a little more strict, but it's not their fault. They both have jobs that require them to be gone a lot, and Christy's mom retired from the music industry five years ago.

"The lunch here gets more disgusting every fucking day," Willow says with disgust as she slams her tray down on our table. "Do you guys know how much money we pay for this shit? They can at least provide us with a parfait or something."

I arch a brow at her obvious entitlement. Then again, Willow has always expected nothing but the best. Her father developed one of the biggest search engines in the world, and she's never had to struggle a day in her life. I mean, I haven't either, but my parents didn't raise me to be a spoiled brat. I love Willow, I do, but she's materialistic even when she doesn't realize it.

"You poor thing," I reply, eyeing the spread of delicious meats and cheeses. "How dare they not serve you a parfait? Didn't they realize you were coming today?"

She gives me a glare out of the corner of her eye. "Shut up," she mutters. "I'm on my period. I will kill a bitch."

I take a bite out of my sandwich just as I feel a pair of arms snake around my waist from behind. The smell of mint and pine floods my nose, a smile creeping across my face. I don't have to look behind me to see who it is.

Zane.

"God damn you look fine as hell today," he whispers in my ear. "Is this a new skirt?"

His fingers play with the band, pulling it out with two fingers to brush against the small of my back. Just the mere contact with him alone sends shivers down to my toes. "I got it yesterday," I tell him. "Do you like it?"

Spinning around to face him, my cheeks are a deep red when he drags his eyes down my body. Normally, boys don't get to me like this, but Zane came in as a new kid earlier last year, and the girls flocked to him. It didn't take long for me to realize he was someone I wanted to explore, and within two weeks, we were fucking in the back of his range rover. I don't do relationships. I never have, and I never will, and I appreciated that he didn't want more with me, either. Being friends with benefits is more than enough.

Everyone said I was lucky to be messing around with him, but honestly, he was lucky to be messing around with me. Sex isn't some sacred thing to me by any means, but I don't mess around with just anyone. I choose wisely, so he should feel honored.

"I think it's going to look a lot better off you tonight. You're coming, right?" His chocolate brown eyes continue to scan my body, and I'm surprised everyone in this courtyard isn't staring at us from the tension.

"Do I ever miss a party?"

He chuckles. "You're a wild thing, Iz. That's what I like the most about you."

Despite Zane and I messing around from time to time, I don't know much about him. We don't hang out unless it's to get pleasure, and although I've tried to make small talk, he doesn't seem into it, which is fine. I don't need to know his back story, but all of Leighton Academy is curious. No one knows what famous person he belongs to go here, but he certainly raised questions with the tattoos that cover his arms and the gauges and piercings plastered on his face. I'm unsure if I'll ever find out the real reason he started coming here.

"And what about your gorgeous friends?" He tilts his head to look at Christy and Willow. "Can I expect to see you both there, too?"

Christy pales. "I don't want to get caught," she blurts.

"Ohmygod Christy." Willow rolls her eyes as she applies gloss to her injected lips in a compact mirror. "Just put on your big girl panties and go. It's not that serious."

"But my mom will kill me," she protests. "If she finds out I'm—"

"Just lie. It's not that hard. Tell her you're going to the movies with Iz and me and then sleeping at one of our places. She's not going to care."

Sweet, innocent little Christy acts as if we're trying to persuade her to commit a felony. Her crystal blue eyes widen with fear as she twirls a strand of chestnut brown hair around her fingertips. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's persuading people to do what I want, and I refuse to let her miss out on a good time.

"It's a shame you won't go," I say with a tiny sigh. "Ryan was looking forward to seeing you."

Christy narrows her eyes. "Ryan Hamilton?"

Willow hides a smile as she pieces together where I'm going with this. Christy has had a crush on Ryan since middle school. I have no clue if he's coming or not, but the potential for him to be there is going to get her to come. I'm doing what I have to do.

"He told you he was, right Zane?" I peek up at him through my eyelashes where I'm sitting, and he quickly gets the hint.

"For sure," he says. "You guys will have a blast. Both of my parents are out of town, so the place is all to myself."

"And who exactly are your parents?" Willow asks.

Zane's body goes slightly rigid, his arms releasing from around my waist. There's a reason no one knows anything about his past, and it's because he does his best to keep everyone out of it. Whoever his parents truly are, he doesn't want anyone to find out. "It doesn't matter, does it?"

Willow shrugs and smacks her cherry red lips together that match her unruly curly red hair, freckles dotting across her cheeks. "If you care about your status here then it does."

He scoffs. "I don't care about my status. I'm sleeping with the sexiest girl in school. I've gained my status just from that alone." Squeezing my shoulder, he quickly tries to exit the conversation. "I'll see you tonight," he says to me. "And please make sure you wear that skirt."

***

"Derek, if you don't stop I'm going to punch you in the balls," I whisper-hiss over my shoulder. He's been tugging on the ends of my hair to mess with me for the past ten minutes while Ms. Jones is dragging on about the American Revolution.

He chuckles softly and does it again, making my lips twitch. He's an idiot. Quarterback of the football team and one of the biggest flirts in school, it's a surprise we never ended up together. He's hot, but I never gave him a chance. I think that irritates him.

"Stop," I repeat more sternly this time.

"What?" He teases. "Afraid of getting into a little trouble, Iz?"

I scoff, but my eyes are trained on Ms. Jones's every movement. Getting in trouble at school would break the facade I've worked tirelessly to build, so I watch how I act in class. In a way, I have my teachers fooled almost as well as my parents. Getting in trouble on my first day would be detrimental to my plan.

"Some of us are trying to learn. Can you both shut up?" Mason West, captain of the basketball team, whips his head around to glare at us over his shoulder. It's a fucking shame he's so damn hot because his personality kills it. Even though he's captain of the basketball team, he's also captain of the debate team, and he's one of the biggest nerds in our class. I don't think he'd even play basketball if he didn't need it to be part of his college application. The more extra-curricular activities the better, and he just so happened to be good at basketball, so that's what he chose.

He never comes to parties, and he never hangs out with the guys on the team. He hides away in his house just like Christy half the time. Maybe I should hook the two of them up. They seem like they'd be a match made in heaven.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"Fucking dweeb," Derek adds.

My lips purse together in a thin line when the hurt strikes across Mason's face. I may be in the popular crowd, but I've never been a bitch, and I'd never be mean to someone just because they value their studies above other things. Thus the reason I'm such good friends with Christy. Willow hated it when I brought her into our friend group, and that was back in middle school. Status is everything at a place like Leighton Academy, but I've never been one to play by the rules.

Plus, I'll always be jealous of people like Mason and Christy. School is something they're good at. It's something I could never accomplish, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I hate myself for it.

"Don't be mad because your IQ isn't higher than his left thumb," I tell Derek. "Now shut up so he can learn."

Mason furrows his eyebrows together at me as he attempts to figure out why I'm helping him. I've got this expression plenty of times before. People expect me to be a stuck-up bitch who only cares about herself, but there's a lot more to me than that. At least I'd like to think so. My parents raised me to be a good person because they are good people, too.

He darts his tongue out to wet his lips, almost like he might say something, and I'm not surprised when my thighs clench in response. Mason is extremely attractive, and I know for a fact that multiple girls on the cheer squad have tried to get with him. He's tall as hell, probably around six-two, and his skin is a golden brown like he's been out in the sun all day with golden shaggy hair to match. All that hotness only for him to turn down every date he's been offered. I don't get it.

The bell rings before he can speak, and as I gather my things, he lingers by my desk. I finally release a sigh when I realize he isn't going anywhere. "Yes?" I ask.

"Nothing, I just..." He rakes one of his large, veiny hands through his hair, and I analyze every fluid motion. "Thanks."

I shrug as if it isn't a big deal. "You don't have to thank me. He wouldn't say shit like that if you just came out to a party every now and then or talked to some of your teammates. You're the captain of the basketball team for crying out loud."

He follows me into the hallway, and we walk together through the heaps of people. "Trust me, I hear enough of their conversation in the locker rooms and I want no part of it. I'm perfectly fine being anti-social."

"I find it hard to believe you're fine with having no friends."

He scrunches his nose up. "I have friends, they're just not part of your social crowd. I prefer to have a logical conversation than discuss who has the best tits and ass in our class."

I grin. "Let me guess. It's me, isn't it?"

Mason wants to be annoyed, but his lips twitch, threatening a smile. "You're conceited."

"No, I'm confident. There's a difference."

"Eh, I'd say you're on the borderline with that comment you just made, but suit yourself."

I reach my locker, but Mason leans up against the one beside me, his hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants, noticing my silence. "I didn't mean for that to come off rude. You're just..."

I raise a brow. "I'm just what?"

"I don't know. Not the typical girl I guess. I mean, the stories I've heard about you are...wild." His tone is filled with disapproval, and for whatever reason, that makes me mad. I don't aim to please him, or anyone, for that matter, but people like him tend to be more conceited than people like me, and that's what he fails to understand.

"And what exactly did you hear?" I ask, taking a step closer to him. "Because I can almost guarantee that most of those stories are false. Men think that because I dress like this, I act a certain way outside of these school walls, and a lot of them are quick to believe it. If I dress like a slut, I must be a slut, right? Isn't that what you were implying? Because I'm confident about myself, that must mean I'm easy? I swear men are so judgemental. Being a slut isn't even a thing. It's a term made up by insecure men who can't—"

"What? No. That's not what I meant at all, Isabelle."

I cringe at his use of my full name. It's not like we've ever been on a nickname basis, but still. It sounds weird coming from his mouth.

"I didn't mean it like that at all. I swear," he says, and for whatever reason, I believe him. Regret is laced within his eyes. "I just meant that you seem full of life. You're sure of yourself, and I guess I've never felt that way. School is all I know, and outside of it, I'm no one. But you know exactly who you are. It's intimidating."

Just how long has he been watching me to draw this conclusion? We've been in school together since we were kids, but I never spoke to him, and he never spoke to me. We stayed out of each other's way. The craziest part about all of this is that he doesn't understand how inaccurate his depiction is of me. I may seem like I'm sure of myself, but it haunts me that I don't know where I'm going after this. I'm good at being popular and making friends, but I'm not good at the school thing. I never have been.

But I won't admit that to him when this is our first time speaking in years. Instead, I say, "If you want to find yourself, you have to escape the walls of this school and your house at some point, Mason. I get that my social group may not be your cup of tea, but there are learning experiences that come with going to a party or two. It'd be beneficial for you."

Just then, Everett rounds the corner and approaches my locker. He eyes Mason up and down before he asks me, "Are you going to your fuck buddy's party tonight?"

Oh my god. Here I am trying to prove to Mason that I'm not who he thinks I am, and my brother is not helping.

"How did you hear about that?" I ask.

Everett shrugs. "I got invited."

Of course, he did.

"By who?"

"Does it matter? I want to go. I'm just trying to figure out if I have a ride or not with you." He diverts his eyes down to his phone, completely ignoring Mason and not even bothering to introduce himself. He tends to do this around every guy I hang out with, though. He knows they're never serious enough to stick, so he doesn't get attached.

It bothers me that Everett holds the key to my facade, and he knows it. He shouldn't be going to this party, but if I tell him no, he has the power to tell Mom and Dad everything I've hidden from them for so long now. He's got me right where he wants me.

"I don't have a ride yet," I tell him.

"Zane can't give us a ride?" He asks. "Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," I snap. "I don't have boyfriends."

Mason clears his throat. "I can take you guys."

My eyes practically bug out of my head as I turn to face him. There is no way in hell he's considering going to a party. He has never been to a party. "Is the world ending?" I glance up at the ceiling with fake horror, darting my eyes all around. "Oh god, it's the apocalypse, isn't it?"

Everett seems confused as hell as he glances between us, but he still doesn't speak to Mason. He just shrugs and pops his AirPods into his ears, tuning us out.

Mason rolls his eyes. "Very funny, but I think I'm going to attempt to take your advice and live a little. I'll try it out and see how it is."

Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I proudly buck up my chest and pat myself on the back. "Well, you'll have the greatest guide to fun that was ever created then, Mason. Get ready to have the best night of your life."