Her Undercover Beast

"Your waist got leaner.

And those abs are definitely rockhard." Riding on the back of Jaxson's heavy motorcycle, I locked my arms around his torso, my fingers deliberately pressing into the rigid muscles under his shirt as I made my blunt observation.

The massive machine bucked. He jammed his heavy boot against the pavement to catch us, but the bike lost its balance, sending us both tumbling onto the asphalt in a tangled heap.

I pushed myself up and reached over, gripping his jaw to force him to look at my smirk. "Supposed to be the biggest badass in school," I mocked, squishing his cheeks together. "Since when did you get so damn flustered?" Chapter 1 Junior year.

I was forced to transfer because I beat the living hell out of a mean girl who was bullying a classmate. Couldn't be helped—her dad was the principal.

And honestly, I barely even touched her. I just knocked out one of her front teeth and shoved her face into a toilet bowl.

While filling out my transfer papers, my dad ground his teeth in pure rage. "If you ever dare shove someone's head into a toilet again, I'm sending you straight to a juvenile boot camp!" "Sounds good." It was too damn hot.

I peeled off my wornout leather motorcycle jacket and casually tied it around my waist, right over my distressed, ripped jeans.

I tilted my head back to look at him. "When are you shipping me off?

Do I need to buzz my hair?" My dad stared at me in dead silence for two seconds. "Screw you!" he snapped, shoving me into the passenger seat of his truck.

Within a week, he pulled every string he had and got me enrolled at River City High. In his words—Jaxson was the only one left who could keep me in line. Jaxson?

The second that familiar name hit my ears, a cleancut, boyish face flashed in my mind.

Just like me, he had the face of an angel, but deep down in his bones, he was an absolute monster. All the parents thought Jaxson was this perfect, straightA golden boy.

But in reality? Jaxson's reputation as the reigning badass of River City High echoed through the entire student underground. I put on a panicked voice and pushed back. "No way, Dad.

You can't send me anywhere near Jaxson!" But behind my dad's back, a slow, sharp smirk curled onto my lips. I was scared. Yeah, fake scared.

Suddenly, I was really looking forward to seeing the look on Jaxson's face when he spotted me in the hallways. I officially transferred on a Friday.

Too bad I didn't get dumped into Jaxson's class.

Everyone knew the notorious troublemaker Jaxson was permanently stuck in the probation class, while I got thrown into a regular homeroom.

My homeroom teacher was a middleaged guy who looked like he hadn't smiled since the nineties.

During my introduction at the front of the room, my eyes swept over the class, but they stopped dead on one guy.

A face I'd never seen before, with a jawline sharp enough to make anyone's pulse skip a beat. I zoned out on him for a few seconds.

Some kids in the front row noticed and let out quiet snickers. Snapping back to reality, I pulled my gaze away. "I'm Riley.

Nice to meet you." With that, I slung my backpack over my shoulder, stepped off the podium, and walked straight toward him. It wasn't because I was thirsting over him.

Honestly, scanning the whole room, the only empty desk left was right next to him. I slammed my faded canvas backpack onto the desk, the heavy thud cutting through the room.

But the second I dropped into the chair, I heard half the class suck in a collective, sharp breath.

I raised an eyebrow, sizing up the indifferent guy next to me. "You good in a fight?" I asked in a low voice. He clearly had zero interest in talking to me.

But after I stared a hole into the side of his head for a solid minute, he finally parted his lips. "No." I wanted to push it, but he had already dropped his gaze back to his textbook.

Looked like pretty boy actually had some attitude. Just a little too boring for my taste. I managed to suffer through a mindnumbing period of class.

And soon enough, I figured out exactly why everyone had gasped when I took this seat. The bell rang.

The second the teacher walked out, a heavily madeup cheerleader strutted into the classroom.

She was holding a Starbucks iced Americano, making a beeline straight for my desk with total arrogance.

Or, more accurately—straight for my cold, ridiculously goodlooking deskmate. Halfway there, she noticed I existed. Her face instantly dropped into an icy glare.

She leaned over my desk, planting one manicured hand flat against the wood. "You the new girl?" she sneered. "Stay the hell away from Simon." She had a high ponytail, and the faint smell of cheap cigarettes drifted over as she leaned in.

The tone, the attitude—a textbook mean girl. I tilted my head back, looking up at her, and let out a soft laugh. "So your name is Simon. Catchy." Simon lifted his eyelids.

Those deep, intense eyes locked onto mine, and the aggressive scent of custom, upperclass cologne suddenly drifted over, invading my space.

I had turned my head, tossing the comment entirely to my new deskmate, ignoring the girl. Simon's numberone fangirl tried to swing at me.

I caught her arm and slammed her facefirst into the desk. The bell for the next period rang.

She scrambled back, spitting out some garbage about catching me after school, before practically sprinting out the door. Chapter 2 Beside me, Simon maintained his icy indifference.

I had to admit, he nailed that untouchable, brooding vibe perfectly. He slid the cheerleader's Starbucks cup across the desk toward me. "Yours." I didn't play shy.

I jammed the straw through the plastic lid and took a sip, immediately scrunching my nose. "Too sweet." "Next time, tell her half pumps of vanilla." I was just messing around, but Simon tilted his head and stared at me for a long beat.

Still, he didn't say another word. After the final bell rang, I took my time shoving my books into my canvas bag, trying to figure out where to corner Jaxson.

I checked the probation classroom earlier, but the delinquent had skipped. The local pool hall? The skate park? Behind the auto shop? A total headache.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out the main entrance, only to run into a solid wall of people.

Leading the pack was Lauren, the cheerleader whose face I had shoved into a desk earlier.

She brought five or six girls with her, blocking the school gates with total arrogance. "Transfer?

Get over here." She beckoned me with a sharp wave of her manicured hand, a nasty smirk on her face. I walked over, taking my sweet time. Her face hardened.

She shot her hand out to grab my collar, but I simply shifted my weight and let her grasp at empty air. "You're new, so you don't know the food chain," Lauren snapped. "Let me spell it out.

Tomorrow, you pick a different seat." "Sit wherever you want, just not next to Simon. We clear?" "Why?" The question caught her off guard.

Probably thinking I was just looking for a fight, she scoffed, and her little crew closed in, throwing out cheap curses and cornering me.

I let my backpack slide off my shoulder, hitting the concrete with a heavy thud. I was just about to roll my shoulders and crack my knuckles when the crowd suddenly parted.

Someone was walking through. I threw a casual glance that way, and my eyes unexpectedly locked onto his. Jaxson. The second our eyes met, he froze dead in his tracks.

The Monster Energy drink he was clutching slipped from his grip, hitting the ground and spilling everywhere.

Snapping out of it, Jaxson shoved two guys out of his way and strode over. Lauren clearly knew him. The second he stepped up, all her arrogant swagger deflated.

She forced a sweet smile. "Jaxson, what are you doing here? It's nothing, really, just the new transfer—" He didn't even let her finish.

He walked right past her, stopping directly in front of me. But I beat him to the punch. "You're Jaxson, right?

Heard you're a badass in a fight." He blinked, his brows pulling together.

I tilted my head, studying him. "You with them?" He didn't know what game I was playing, but his survival instincts kicked in.

He took a hard step back. "Never seen them in my life." With that, he took another two steps back, crossed his arms, and settled in to watch the show. Ten minutes later.

I snatched my backpack off the ground and pushed my way through the crowd. Five girls who only knew how to slap and pull hair.

I had to hold back the entire time, terrified I was going to accidentally snap someone's ribcage in half. As I walked forward, the sea of students instantly parted for me.

When I walked past Jaxson, he hesitated, opening his mouth, but clamped it shut without a single word. … Two blocks later, the deafening roar of an engine ripped through the street.

Jaxson chased me down on a heavy black motorcycle.

He hit the brakes hard, the tires screeching aggressively against the asphalt as he fishtailed right in front of me, shooting out a long leg to stabilize the massive bike. "What the hell was that?" I stepped up, reached right into the pocket of his leather jacket, and pulled out a pack of gum.

Just as I thought. I popped a piece into my mouth and looked up at him. "My dad transferred me here.

Told you to keep an eye on my grades." The sunlight hit his back, framing his sharp, ridiculously goodlooking features. But his expression was entirely unnatural.

He swallowed hard, actual lingering fear in his eyes. "Keep an eye… on your grades?" "Got a problem with that?" "No." Jaxson raised a brow. "Then why the hell did you act like you didn't know me back there?" "Oh," I replied flatly. "This is my fourth transfer.

Dad told me to keep a low profile this time." "You're way too flashy around here.

I just want to fly under the radar." Chapter 3 Jaxson stayed quiet for two seconds. "Pretty sure walking away like a boss after dropping five girls is way flashier." I rolled my eyes and gave him a few more strict instructions to act like I didn't exist in the hallways. "…Fine." He let out a heavy sigh, wrestling the heavy black motorcycle around. "Get on.

I'll drop you off." I didn't hesitate, swinging my leg over the back seat. He kept sighing about me transferring here, but I caught the distinct amusement lighting up his eyes.

We hit a steep downhill slope. Not wanting to get thrown off, I wrapped my arms tight around his waist, offering a brutally honest observation. "Jaxson, your waist got leaner.

And those abs are definitely rockhard." The second the words left my mouth, Jaxson's grip on the handlebars jerked. The massive machine instantly lost its balance and tipped over.

I scraped up my forearm, and he tore up the palm of his hand. We both looked like a total wreck. Sitting on the concrete curb, I ground my teeth together. "You trying to kill us?

We grew up running around in diapers together.

Don't tell me you're getting shy over me grabbing your waist." "Jaxson." I reached over with both hands, squishing his cheeks together and leaning in close. "Since when did you get so damn flustered?" Jaxson shoved my hands away, his jaw tightening.

His voice dropped low. "I'm not." He paused. "It's just… I think I've got a crush on a girl recently." Oh. So it wasn't him being shy. He was keeping his distance for her.

I froze for a couple of seconds, unable to pin down the tight feeling in my chest. It almost felt like a letdown.

It felt exactly like watching a stray dog I'd fed for ten years suddenly following someone else home.

Snapping out of it, I tilted my head at him. "You gonna introduce us?" Jaxson stood up, wrestling the heavy motorcycle back upright. "Yeah. Someday." The bike was fine.

Jaxson still insisted on driving me the rest of the way home. Terrified of running into my dad, he dropped me off at the edge of my block and peeled out of there.

If you asked who the notorious Jaxson feared most in this world, there were only two answers. Me, and my dad.

Back in his prime, my dad won the state MMA championship three years in a row. Now, he ran the biggest underground boxing gym in the city.

Jaxson's dad used to be my dad's ring partner. Jaxson and I practically grew up together, rolling around in the piles of punching bags at the gym.

We both survived my dad's hellish boot camp training.

Jaxson turned into the perfect angel every time he saw my dad, constantly throwing around "Yes, Coach" and "No, Coach." … I got home.

The second my canvas backpack hit the floor, my dad's voice boomed from the kitchen. "Got into a fight?" I stiffened. "Yeah." I braced myself for the incoming screaming match.

But a few seconds later, a massive, booming laugh echoed through the house. "This new school really is something else!" he roared. "If someone there actually managed to beat you up this bad, I can finally stop worrying." Me: What the hell?

I looked up, catching my reflection in the hallway mirror. Thanks to our little motorcycle wipeout, my face was scraped up and bruised. He actually thought someone kicked my ass.

When my dad made a decision, he moved fast. He heard the unit right below Jaxson's apartment was up for rent. He didn't even go look at the place.

He just wired the deposit and locked it down. It only took us two days to pack up and move in. His official excuse?

He wanted Jaxson, the straightA student ranked second in the whole junior class, to tutor me. I gave a sweet smile and agreed.

Jaxson, on the other hand, looked absolutely miserable. Ever since I transferred, he was stuck in a nightmare.

My dad ordered him to watch my grades, while I threatened to kill him if he spoke to me in the hallways.

On top of that, he was my personal chauffeur to and from school every single day. The pressure was entirely on him.

Feeling a little bad for him, I tossed my entire daily allowance into his hands.

Jaxson took the cash, but he was constantly paranoid I was going to freeze, starve, or die of thirst.

He kept buying me energy drinks and junk food, making his friends drop them off at my desk. Doing the math, he was definitely losing money on this deal.

Two weeks into my transfer, the stress actually made Jaxson drop a little weight. It only sharpened his jawline and made his ridiculously goodlooking features stand out even more.

From what I could tell, the army of girls chasing him around campus had doubled.

Between skipping class, getting into street fights, and collecting a mountain of love confessions, he was living his best life. As for me?

My only source of entertainment lately was messing with Simon. The guy acted like a total stiff from a blackandwhite movie. He was icy, rigid, and completely boring.

But damn, that face was impossible to ignore. Chapter 4 Unlike Jaxson's rugged, streetfighter jawline, Simon was all sharp angles and pale skin.

He had this classically handsome, untouchable look, radiating a permanent, brooding melancholy. And the best part? He broke easy.

One casual tease, and the tips of his ears would burn crimson. Lately, though, I caught him sketching on printer paper during lectures. He was drawing everyone in our homeroom.

Have to admit, the guy had serious skills—his lines were fast and precise.

For the next few days, I kept leaning into his space, bugging him to draw me, volunteering as his personal muse.

But out of thirty kids in our class, he sketched twentynine of them before finally letting me be his last subject.

It took him two whole periods of starting and stopping before he finally slid the paper across our shared desk. I glanced at it, and for a second, I completely froze.

The girl on the page was looking out the window, her profile soft, almost peaceful. It was me, but… not exactly me. Plus, it didn't take a genius to notice the difference.

He had rushed through everyone else's portraits, slapping down messy outlines and rough shading. But mine? Every single pencil stroke was deliberate, obsessive even.

It was passing period.

I folded the paper, planted my elbow on the desk, and leaned right into his space, trapping his gaze. "Simon." "Don't tell me you sketched the entire class just to have an excuse to draw me?" I was just messing with him.

But the second the words left my mouth, Simon's brow twitched. He ripped his gaze away, staring dead at his textbook, but the tips of his ears flushed a brilliant, undeniable red.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat. I was about to push my luck when the entire classroom suddenly went dead silent.

Holding my position leaning over Simon's desk, I tossed a glance over my shoulder. And there he was.

Jaxson was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes locked on us like a heatseeking missile. Even from across the room, I could see the dark, furious scowl etched into his features.

The kid sitting nearest the door nervously squeaked out asking who he was looking for. Jaxson stayed quiet for two agonizing seconds.

His eyes burned holes into mine, but his voice came out dangerously flat. "Looking for Simon." I figured they ran in the same circles, so I nudged Simon's arm with my elbow. "Jaxson's looking for you." Simon didn't even acknowledge the threat in the doorway.

Instead, he slowly turned his head to look at me.

Same gorgeous, deadpan face. "You know him?" I froze, suddenly realizing I had casually dropped Jaxson's name. "Nope," I lied smoothly, flashing a grin. "Just heard the rumors.

The school's resident badass, right? Hard to miss." Simon stared at me for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then, he simply dropped his eyes back to his textbook.

The whole time, he acted like the deadliest guy in school wasn't standing ten feet away demanding his attention. I looked back up.

Sure enough, Jaxson's face was completely murderous. He slammed his heavy boot against the metal doorframe, the crack echoing through the silent room. "Simon." "Outside.

Now." Simon kept his eyes glued to his book, completely ignoring the command.

Feeling my eyes on him, Simon glanced up just long enough to drop two icy words. "Don't know him." With that, he calmly flipped the page. He didn't give a single damn about Jaxson.

Jaxson snapped. Being publicly humiliated like that? Worse than taking a bullet for a guy with his ego. Jaxson shoved off the doorframe and stalked down the aisle toward us.

The room was suffocatingly quiet. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the bloodbath. Including me.

Logically speaking, this was the moment Simon should at least look up to defend himself, right? He didn't.

In fact, right as Jaxson stepped up to our desk, Simon casually muttered one word. "Idiot." Jaxson exploded. He spit out a vicious curse, his fist flying straight for Simon's jaw.

Simon barely tilted his head. Actually, it wasn't even Simon dodging. It was me taking control.

I snatched Jaxson's flying fist out of midair, twisted his arm back, and slammed him against the metal lockers next to us. The heavy crash echoed like a gunshot. "Enough.

Rein in your damn testosterone." Chapter 5 A wave of hushed whispers rippled through the room. Probably because I still had my hand securely fisted in Jaxson's shirt.

After a second, I let go, smoothing down the wrinkled fabric, and met his eyes. "He's just an ass. Drop it." A sharp scoff came from the back row.

The whispers were low, but I caught the drift. They were saying I was delusional if I thought Jaxson was going to back down for me.

At this high school, once Jaxson threw a punch, it always landed. Except— Jaxson stared at me for two agonizing seconds. His jaw clenched, but he didn't say a single word.

He just turned on his heel and walked out. He didn't even look at Simon again. The classroom completely erupted. During the final period, my phone buzzed with a text from Jaxson.

He claimed he had some business to handle after school and told me to catch a ride myself. Total tantrum behavior. People say everyone has two faces, but Jaxson had a hundred.

He was the golden boy locking down the number two spot in the class rankings. He was the ruthless fighter who beat the entire underground scene into submission.

And he was also the guy who sulked in a corner like a kicked puppy the second I snapped at him. … After the final bell, I was standing by the gates, trying to decide between the bus or a long walk home.

Suddenly, an outrageously expensive, custom carbonfiber road bike slid into my line of sight. The rider planted one foot on the pavement, stopping right in front of me.

I was just about to ask if he didn't have his 'business' to handle, but my eyes trailed up and hit Simon's face.

He balanced the massive, highend frame in front of me, his tone as clipped as ever. "Get on." I blinked, momentarily thrown. "You're offering me a ride?" "Yeah." I tugged at the hem of my shirt, offering a rare moment of politeness. "I'm pretty heavy, you know." Simon's brows pulled together. "Get on." Just those two words.

I climbed onto the back pegs and rattled off my address. Simon yanked the handlebars, spinning the bike in the complete opposite direction. Guess I wasn't on his route.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, Simon's voice drifted back over his shoulder, cutting through the wind. "Guess you weren't lying." I blanked. Lying about what?

It took us half a block before my brain clicked and my teeth ground together.

He meant I wasn't lying about being heavy. … The rest of the ride was filled with Simon's signature dead silence. Halfway home, we ran straight into Jaxson.

The same Jaxson who texted me about having 'important business' was currently cruising down the street on his heavy motorcycle at a snail's pace.

He had one hand draped lazily over the throttle and the other holding a halfeaten slice of pepperoni pizza. The second he spotted us, he froze. His front tire clipped a pothole.

Jaxson scrambled, his heavy boots kicking out to stabilize the massive bike, but the pizza slipped from his fingers, splattering facedown on the asphalt.

By the time he managed to look back up, Simon had already pedaled past him, leaving him in the dust.

Simon looked lean, but as a core member of a private club's rowing team, his stamina was surprisingly solid.

He pedaled my dead weight up the steep hill to my street without even breathing hard.

He dropped me off at the curb, still hoarding his words like gold. "Go inside." With that, he stood up on the pedals and rode off. He just left.

I was standing there, trying to calculate the coolest possible way to say goodbye, and he was already half a block down the road. What a complete waste of effort.

Just another painfully average day. Late that night, right as I was drifting off, my phone lit up with a massive text wall from Jaxson.

A rambling paragraph, filled with scattered, repetitive sentences.

The one line that practically screamed off the screen was: "Aren't we supposed to be best friends?" It was jammed into the beginning, the middle, and the end.

That was Jaxson for you. Whenever he was genuinely pissed, he just looped the same sentence over and over. Before I could even finish reading the mess, he unsent it.

Two seconds later, new messages popped up. "I'm driving you tomorrow. Don't get on his bike." "Pretty boy's got zero muscle.

He's gonna drop you." The next morning, I was violently dragged out of my covers by Jaxson. I forced my eyes open.

He was standing next to my bed, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows.

With the morning sun hitting his back, it cast a golden halo around him, making his sharp features look obnoxiously good.

I rubbed the grit out of my eyes and kicked my foot out, shoving his leg away. "What the hell do you want?" Chapter 6 Jaxson rubbed his leg where I had kicked him. "Little Queen, first period starts in ten minutes.

I've been waiting downstairs for half an hour. I thought you ditched me." It took a solid thirty seconds for my brain to reboot and process the words coming out of his mouth.

Ten minutes until first period. The last bit of sleep instantly burned off. I scrambled out of bed, making a frantic dash for my closet, but my foot snagged on a stray slipper.

I pitched forward, flying through the air. Jaxson's reflexes were razorsharp. He shot his arms out to catch me, but he grossly underestimated my forward momentum.

I plowed straight into him, sending us both crashing to the hardwood floor.

Like some cliché movie scene, I ended up pinned right on top of him, my mouth smashing squarely against his. Soft, warm pressure. We both froze.

Then— He practically threw me off him. He scrambled up, a flush of heat rushing up his neck until the tips of his ears burned a deep crimson.

I stared at his burning face, mentally talking myself down. It's fine. It's whatever. We played house when we were kids, and we kissed back then.

Just pretend we're still five and six. Back then, we didn't know a damn thing. A bunch of us brats were playing house in the gym.

Jaxson was the dad, I was the mom, and we apparently had seven kids. Jaxson announced that he saw his dad kiss his mom all the time.

So, the sevenyearold idiot leaned in and planted one on sixyearold me.

But right now… I stared at Jaxson's ridiculously red face, just about to tell him to chill out, when the jerk suddenly wiped the back of his hand aggressively across his mouth. "Riley, you haven't even brushed your damn teeth yet!" I glared at him for a long beat, then kicked him hard in the shin. "My mouth was closed, idiot!

And for the record, I didn't even complain about how chapped your lips are." I grabbed an armful of clothes from my closet and shoved him out of my room, using changing as an excuse.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him. I pressed the back of my hand against my cheek. It was burning hot. He definitely didn't notice, right?

I threw my clothes on in record time, sprinted into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and bolted back out.

Jaxson was leaning against the front door, my canvas backpack slung over one shoulder. He was staring at his heavy steel watch, counting down. "Three, two, one…" "Ding ding.

Class started." He looked up at me, his expression perfectly innocent. I grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the stairs, practically flying down the steps.

Halfway down, something caught my eye. I stopped and whipped my head back around. "Jaxson, what the hell is on your lips?

Why are they shiny?" He froze, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, suddenly looking extremely awkward. "Uh… weather's been dry.

I borrowed your lip balm." "…You're buying me a new one." He agreed immediately. He flipped his grip, grabbing my wrist instead, and hauled me down the rest of the stairs.

As we ran, he couldn't help but run his mouth. "Gotta admit, that little tube works magic.

My lips feel incredibly smooth right now." By the time the words left his mouth, we were already standing next to his motorcycle.

He leaned against the heavy black frame, flashing a smirk and raising one eyebrow. "Wanna kiss me again to test the texture?" "Test my fist against your face!" I swung my leg over the back seat. "Just drive!" Jaxson actually shut up and started the engine.

He had way too much adrenaline burning. He tore down the street, pushing the massive bike way too fast, the wind whipping violently against us. The wind was freezing.

But my face was completely on fire. … That weekend, my dad had an outofstate MMA exhibition match, so he dumped me upstairs at Jaxson's place for two days.

Jaxson's dad was thrilled.

For fortyeight hours straight, he stood by the barbecue in the backyard, grilling steaks and hot dogs while clutching a beer, grinning like an idiot as he watched us.

Just hyping up me and Jaxson. A fortysomething guy, practically whistling at us every time we breathed in the same direction.

Jaxson poured me a mug of hot water and naturally blew on it to cool it down before handing it over. His dad yelled from the grill: "Look at that gentleman!

He only ever gets me tap water!" Jaxson scraped his knuckles on the heavy bag in the garage, so I dabbed some antiseptic on the cuts. His dad chimed in: "Our Riley's growing up!

Look how gentle and caring she's gotten." Jaxson was trying to explain a math problem to me at the patio table, so we naturally leaned in closer to look at the same textbook.

Chapter 7 Jaxson's dad pushed the patio door open, bringing in a tray of freshly baked sliders and cold sodas. "Uh… cough… Jaxson, Riley struggles with math, right?

Walk her through it. Got some food here if you're hungry, and sodas in the cooler. Take your time, kids." The heavy door clicked shut.

I gave Jaxson a deadpan look. "Maybe you should just get a girlfriend.

Look how desperate your old man is." Jaxson grabbed a slider and took a massive bite, speaking casually with his mouth halffull. "He's shipping us way too hard right now.

You want me to sink his ship? He'd drag me down to the underground gym and wipe the floor with my face." …Fair point. But honestly, Jaxson was a terrible best friend.

When he had a secret, he kept it locked down tight. Same went for his dad. Over the entire weekend, neither of them breathed a single word about it to me.

But come Monday morning, Jaxson strolled right into our classroom, slinging a completely empty backpack over one shoulder. The noisy morning study hall instantly went dead silent.

As everyone stared at him in utter confusion, Jaxson walked straight to the front of the room. "Hey everyone. I'm Jaxson from the probation class.

But starting today, I'm officially in this homeroom." …What? The words bounced around my brain twice before they finally clicked. Jaxson… transferred classes?

As if to confirm my sudden realization, Jaxson stepped away from the whiteboard and walked directly down my aisle. I furrowed my brows. What the hell was he pulling now?

Just as I thought that, Jaxson stopped and knocked his knuckles hard against Simon's desk. "Switch seats." Simon was entirely focused on sketching on a piece of printer paper.

He didn't even lift his head. "Idiot." That single, casually dropped word instantly made the air in the room thick with tension. …I sat there watching them, completely speechless.

Did these two think they were starring in some cheesy teen soap opera?

Jaxson's brows pulled together in a sharp scowl, a furious retort right on the tip of his tongue, but our homeroom teacher walked over and intervened.

He pointed to the empty desk directly to the right of Simon. "Why don't you sit here?" It was only separated from Simon by a narrow aisle, which meant it wasn't far from me either.

Jaxson hesitated before dropping his empty bag on the chair. However, ten minutes into the first period, Jaxson started aggressively flicking folded paper notes at me.

Because Simon was sitting directly between us, every single note landed squarely on Simon's desk. And Simon? The guy didn't even glance at them.

He just calmly swept them right off the edge of his desk and into the trash can. Jaxson was relentless. He threw eighteen notes in a single period.

Every single one met its end in the garbage. By the last attempt, Jaxson finally snapped.

Right as the bell rang, before the teacher even made it out the door, Jaxson kicked his chair back, slammed his hands on the desk, and grabbed Simon by the collar of his shirt. "You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?" Simon finally looked him dead in the eye. "Yeah.

I am." With that, he peeled Jaxson's fingers off his shirt, casually smoothing out the wrinkled fabric. "Just like you transferring into this class.

That was on purpose too, wasn't it?" As he said it, Simon's gaze seemed to flick toward me for a fraction of a second. The two of them were talking in riddles.

But that one softly spoken sentence from Simon completely deflated Jaxson's rage.

He pulled his hand back, muttering under his breath, "Looks like a weak pretty boy, but he's got a hell of a grip." With that, he slumped back into his seat.

I thought that was the end of the drama. But—by the time lunch rolled around, the rumors were spiraling out of control. Rumors about me and Jaxson? No, no, no.

Every single person in the hallways was swearing up and down that Jaxson transferred classes specifically for Simon.

On top of that, my classmates—who were completely useless at academics but terrifyingly efficient at digging up gossip—actually unearthed a ton of 'evidence.' For instance: Simon, who was perpetually dead inside and treated everyone like empty air, only ever showed any actual emotion when dealing with Jaxson.

Like how he constantly went out of his way to call Jaxson an idiot. Or, another prime example: People realized they had worn matching outfits countless times.

Same limitededition sneakers, same cargo pants, same hoodies… Even that beatup Adidas backpack Jaxson dragged around purely for aesthetic purposes?

They both owned the exact same bag, just in different colors. Hearing it all laid out like that, it actually started making a weird amount of sense.

The math teacher called in sick for the next period, leaving us with a free study hall. Chapter 8 I couldn't help myself.

I nudged Simon's arm with my elbow. "How come you and Jaxson own so much of the exact same stuff?" Simon's pen stalled on the printer paper. "Coincidence." "That's a lot of coincidences." For once, Simon actually turned his head to look at me. "Maybe we just have similar taste.

Otherwise, we wouldn't both be into you." I choked on my own spit, violently coughing against my fist. Was that a confession? Both… into me?

Simon glanced across the narrow aisle at Jaxson, who was currently facedown on his desk, pretending to be dead to the world.

Simon looked back at me. "Don't tell me you actually had no idea Jaxson is in love with you." Jaxson? Into me?

The guy I grew up running around in diapers with, my absolute best friend for over a decade? I stared at Simon, my brain completely shortcircuiting.

The silence stretched, only to be shattered by a low, warning growl from the desk to my right. "Stop talking. Pay attention to the lecture." …I knew he was faking it.

Aside from having a hairtrigger temper and a crippling addiction to street fights, the guy was a hardcore academic tryhard.

He could look like he was in a deep coma, but he'd still absorb every single word the teacher said. I rolled my eyes at the back of Jaxson's head.

I turned back to Simon, opening my mouth to interrogate him further, but Simon suddenly shot a deliberate look at Jaxson.

Then— Simon reached over, wrapping his hand securely around mine where it rested on the wood.

He leaned in, his voice entirely intentional. "Riley, want to try going out with me?" Crash. On my right, Jaxson kicked his chair back so hard it slammed into the desk behind him.

He stood up abruptly, his voice a lethal, commanding bark that froze the entire room. "Take your damn hand off her." This time, my reflexes weren't fast enough to stop him.

A dark, murderous scowl carved itself into Jaxson's features. He vaulted the aisle, grabbing Simon by the collar and driving his fist hard into Simon's jaw, over and over.

Only then did it click. The Jaxson who always magically 'lost' our sparring sessions was holding back. His actual brute strength completely dwarfed mine.

It took six guys piling on top of him to finally drag him off. Simon fought back, but against a seasoned underground fighter like Jaxson, he was clearly outmatched.

His ridiculously pretty face was bruised and bleeding, looking strangely pathetic.

Jaxson stood a few feet away, his chest heaving heavily, his eyes still burning with absolute venom.

I couldn't hold back a sharp reprimand. "Can you stop swinging your fists for two seconds?

At least let the guy explain." Jaxson unscrewed his water bottle, took a savage swig, and violently pitched the plastic cap onto Simon's desk. "Fine. Let's hear the explanation.

Why the hell were you touching her hand?" Simon tilted his chin up, swiping a thumb at his bleeding lip.

He still wore that infuriatingly composed, untouchable expression. "I was asking her out." He dropped the words casually. "Was it really that hard to tell?" …Jaxson looked ready to snap his neck.

Terrified he was going to catch an assault charge, I stepped in and snapped at him to back off. Jaxson stared at me in complete silence for two seconds.

The muscles in his jaw locked tight, and a hollow, wounded look flashed in his eyes before he simply turned and walked out.

He actually left… He didn't show up for the last two periods. Simon, on the other hand, seemed to be in a fantastic mood despite just eating two fists to the face.

A rare, genuine smirk played on his lips.

Watching him, a wild suspicion started clawing at my brain. "Simon." I tugged on his sleeve, dropping my voice to a whisper. "Those rumors floating around… are they actually true?" Simon paused for two seconds, and then let out a low laugh.

He pressed his index finger vertically against his lips. "Don't tell Jaxson." What the actual hell?! So all those crazy rumors about him and Jaxson were completely legit?

I stared at him for a long minute, a massive wave of conflicting emotions hitting me.

Part of me was riding the high of uncovering the juiciest scandal of the year, but another part felt genuinely disappointed. Such a ridiculously gorgeous guy.

I still remembered the absolute gutpunch of seeing him for the first time from the podium. What a total waste. They were keeping it in the family. The bell rang.

I was digging through my bag for my English lit textbook when Simon suddenly let out a soft, dramatic sigh next to me. "Do you think Jaxson hurt his knuckles hitting me?" "…" Jaxson ghosted for the rest of the afternoon.

When the final bell rang, I had no choice but to grab his empty backpack and start the walk home alone.

I was just about to head for the bus stop when Simon's custom carbonfiber road bike slid smoothly into my path, blocking my way. Chapter 9 "Get on." Classic Simon.

As clipped and efficient as always. "I'll pass." Thinking back to his little 'confession' this afternoon, I hesitated. But Simon laid out an argument I couldn't really fight.

He wanted an excuse to check out Jaxson's block, maybe even bump into him 'accidentally.' I chewed on it for a second.

He gets to stalk his crush, and I get a free ride home without having to cram onto a sweaty city bus. Winwin.

I climbed onto the back pegs of Simon's custom carbonfiber bike, gripping the hard edge of the seat with one hand. Simon chuckled softly. "Steep hill coming up.

You can hold onto my waist if you're scared." "No thanks." I tightened my grip on the plastic under me. "That's probably a bad idea." Simon didn't push it.

Mostly because—Jaxson was standing dead center at the bottom of the hill. Thanks to the sudden visual of his crush, Simon's steering instantly wobbled.

Luckily, he managed to muscle the bike down the rest of the slope without killing us. At least I didn't wipe out twice on the exact same street.

Jaxson was straddling his heavy black motorcycle, his chest heaving like he had just raced halfway across the city.

His knuckles were completely white, the thick blue veins popping against the skin of his right hand as he strangled the throttle. "Riley.

Unbelievable." His eyes bored a hole straight through my face. "You ditch me, just to catch a ride home with another guy?" He ground his jaw, the silence stretching for two agonizing seconds before he barked, "Coach ordered me to make sure you got home safe.

Get off." The second he dropped my dad's title, all my rebellion instantly evaporated. I hopped off the back pegs like a good little soldier.

Glancing back, I caught Simon locking eyes with Jaxson. Jaxson's expression, though? Pure, unadulterated murder.

I patted Simon's shoulder. "Good luck with that." But the second my hand lifted, Jaxson's fingers clamped around my wrist like a steel vice, yanking me back toward him.

The guy was practically vibrating with toxic energy today, his voice dropping to a harsh, territorial command. "Get on.

We're going home." We managed a few days of tense peace before Simon dropped a massive bomb on my life. Saturday morning.

Jaxson was currently raiding my fridge for free food when a solid knock echoed from the front door. I yanked it open. Simon was standing on my porch, holding a stylized gift bag.

He smoothly bypassed Jaxson's existence completely, flashing a polite, richkid smile at my dad. "Good morning, sir.

I'm Riley's deskmate, Simon." "I actually just moved onto this block.

My mom just baked a batch of butter cookies and an apple pie, and she wanted me to bring some over for you to try." My dad had literally never received a welcome gift from any of my degenerate friends before.

He took the bag looking completely caught off guard. "Simon?

Why does that name sound so familiar…" Ushering Simon into the living room, my dad stared off into space for a second before violently slapping his thigh. "Wait, you're the Simon?

The kid ranked number one in the whole junior class?" Simon offered a modest, perfectly manufactured smile. "Just occasionally, sir." My dad reached out and slapped Jaxson hard on the back. "So this is the guy who's always keeping you permanently locked in second place, huh?" …Jaxson's face morphed into a thundercloud.

Jaxson spent his entire academic career bouncing aggressively between rank two and three, while Simon sat untouched on the absolute throne. My dad instantly idolized the guy.

From the second Simon walked in, my dad didn't stop showering him with praise. He praised his cleancut posture. He praised his elite grades.

He praised… honestly, he praised damn near everything.

Standing off to the side, Jaxson finally snapped, aggressively poking my dad's shoulder. "Coach," he muttered, sounding dangerously close to a kicked dog. "You've literally never talked about me like that…" My dad clapped his shoulder, trying his best to scrape together some forced equality. "You're great too, kid.

Don't get insecure. Look at you—all that rough, tanned skin.

Very masculine." Jaxson: "…" After Simon officially moved to our block, my private tutoring duo with Jaxson quickly expanded into a deeply uncomfortable trio.

Behind Jaxson's back, Simon cornered me and explicitly asked me to set up more 'opportunities' for him.

After he handed over a massive grocery bag full of imported junk food as a bribe, I happily sold Jaxson out.

So, whenever we camped out at the long dining table to study, I rigged the seating chart. Me on the left. Simon directly in the middle. Jaxson on the right.

Trapping Simon right against Jaxson's shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Jaxson looked like he wanted to punch a hole through the drywall.

He aggressively protested a few times, but I quickly shut him down with the threat of physical violence. That is, until… Chapter 10 One time, Jaxson's dad came down to look for him.

The second he walked through the door and saw our seating arrangement, he froze dead in his tracks.

After a long pause, he muttered two quick sentences to Jaxson, pressed his lips into a tight line, and practically sprinted out.

That night, I was scrolling through my social media feed.

This sixfootsomething, hardcore MMA veteran had posted a picture of a pile of empty beer bottles with a tragic caption: [ My ultimate ship just sank.

I am devastated… ] I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I meant to close the app, but my thumb slipped and accidentally doubletapped to like the post.

Before I could frantically unlike it, I noticed Jaxson had liked it at the exact same second.

Two minutes later, his dad dropped a comment under his own post: [ They just liked it at the same time!

The ghost of my dead ship is attacking me again! ] Jaxson clearly hit his breaking point. He replied to the comment: [ Dad. Less beer.

Less TikTok. ] His dad: [ Oh. ] … The next morning, I walked out the front door and found both Simon and Jaxson waiting at the curb. Two ridiculously goodlooking guys.

One straddling an absurdly expensive carbonfiber road bike, the other revving the engine of a massive, heavy motorcycle.

The sheer amount of aggressive, testosteronefueled rivalry in the air was suffocating.

But before I could even process the scene, they both barked at the exact same time. "Get on." They locked eyes, practically daring the other to back down, before simultaneously snapping their gazes to me, waiting for my choice.

Well… I only hesitated for two seconds.

I marched straight over, snatched the handlebars of Simon's custom bike right out of his hands, and shoved him toward the back of Jaxson's motorcycle. Perfect solution.

To be the ultimate wingman, I even instantly relearned how to ride a bike after years of avoiding it. The entire ride to school, neither of them said a single word.

The silence was completely toxic. As they hit the steep hill, I heard Jaxson grind his teeth over the roar of the engine. "If you're scared, grab the plastic seat.

Don't you dare touch me." "Noted." Simon gave a deadpan reply and immediately locked his arms tight around Jaxson's waist. Jaxson let out a savage curse.

The heavy motorcycle violently jerked sideways, nearly stalling out before he wrestled it up the rest of the incline. We finally made it to campus in one piece.

First period was math. The old guy who taught it was notoriously ruthless.

I dug through my faded canvas backpack and realized, with a sinking feeling, that my textbook was completely MIA. Sure enough.

The old man paced down the aisle like a shark. "Didn't bring your textbook? Go straight to the front and grab a detention slip!" I let out a heavy breath.

I was just about to push my chair back and stand up when two heavy math textbooks violently slammed onto my desk.

Before my brain could even process what was happening, Jaxson and Simon both shot up from their seats.

And then— I was the only person in the entire class who ended up with a detention slip. Why?

Because the teacher instantly spotted my missing book and aggressively scoffed at their pathetic attempt to play the hero. "Do you think I'm legally blind?

You literally hurled two books directly onto her desk." I sat there gripping the pink detention slip, completely speechless. The old man wasn't wrong.

Those two idiots had literally launched the books through the air.

The twin crashes were so loud, it would have been impossible for him not to notice I didn't have one. … I suffered through the rest of the agonizing period.

The second the bell rang, Jaxson marched over and dropped a sports drink on my desk.

Even though he knew perfectly well that I had the brute strength to rip a car door off its hinges, he still automatically cracked the plastic seal on the cap before handing it to me out of pure habit.

He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head, and let out a dramatic groan. "Man, I was just trying to pull off a badass move.

Give you that classic, slowmotion movie moment." "Ended up totally blowing it." I took the bottle and chugged a mouthful of water, fully intending to mock him.

But as my eyes flicked over, I suddenly noticed something.

From this angle, with his sharp jawline and arrogant posture, he actually looked exactly like the brooding bad boy from a classic 90s teen movie.

I couldn't stop myself from staring a second longer. When I finally pulled my gaze away, I locked eyes with Simon. He flashed a faint smile but didn't say a word.

He just quietly shoved a cold, expensive electrolyte water directly into my desk cubby. Looked like he had just gone out of his way to buy it.

By the time last period rolled around, Jaxson was MIA again. Word in the hallway was that some guys from the rival high school were coming over to jump a freshman in his crew.

Chapter 11 Jaxson went off to back up his crew. Childish. I didn't even bother telling him to be careful.

The guy grew up brawling in an underground boxing ring; to him, a high school street fight was basically just playing house.

Before taking off, Jaxson shoved a crumpled twentydollar bill into my palm, drilling his orders into my head. Take a cab home.

Do not, under any circumstances, get on Pretty Boy's bike. 'Pretty Boy' being his deeply creative nickname for Simon. I nodded along like a perfect angel.

And then— I took his money, dragged Simon to the retro drivein diner on the corner, inhaled a mountain of cheeseburgers and fries, and blew every last cent.

We ended up taking the city bus home. We couldn't ride his bike because someone had completely slashed Simon's custom tires.

He had a very reasonable suspicion it was Jaxson's doing. But he had zero proof. … The walk from the bus stop to our block was a decent hike.

To cut out a massive detour, we usually took a shortcut through a deadend alleyway that was always deserted.

The alley was poorly lit, shadows stretching long against the brick walls. Simon and I walked sidebyside, leaving enough space between us to fit an entire Jaxson.

We didn't make it far. The heavy scrape of boots against concrete echoed behind us. I whipped my head around.

A group of guys wearing our school's varsity jackets stepped out from the shadows, slowly fanning out to completely block our exit.

Right on cue, a violently familiar face pushed her way to the front. High ponytail, sharp bangs, an expression practically bleeding arrogant hostility.

The cheerleader who tried to claim Simon, cornered me at the gates, and ended up eating the asphalt. If I remembered right, her name was Lauren.

She stalked toward me, spitting out a stream of venomous trash talk. Her speech was slightly slurred—probably still missing that tooth—trying to sound incredibly intimidating.

I honestly didn't catch a single word. Behind her, four or five guys cracked their knuckles. Almost instantly. Heavy footsteps cru