"You may be his world, but you're the only thing that ever felt like home to me."
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Some people never get second chances. Lilah never thought she'd get one with her brother's best friend.
She's quiet...
Thank you guts for the patience as I continue to upload these rewritten parts! Once these are done, I promise there will be new chapters. I do want to make it known though, for my readers of the original story, that these chapters are different. So it will be worth your while to read them as you wait for new chapters! 😊
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By the time I slip into my seat, the classroom is already alive with quiet conversation and the faint scratch of pens against paper. I sink toward the back, grateful for the buffer of distance. My head still feels foggy from the weekend, and all I want is for this class to pass without requiring too much from me.
But a soft laugh—bright and airy—cuts through the low hum of the room.
It pulls my eyes up before I can stop myself, just in time to see a girl across the room, the laughter tracing towards her.
She's sitting a few rows ahead, angled slightly toward her friend. And she's beautiful—the kind of effortless, put-together beauty that makes my stomach twist with envy. Long, honey-blonde hair, styled half up in a bun and the lower half in loose waves down her back catching the light every time she moves, like she walked straight out of a magazine. Her skin is flawless, sun-kissed with the kind of glow that screams confidence. Even sitting down, it's hard not to notice her long legs and slim figure that suddenly makes me aware of how I've been slouching in my chair all class.
Her makeup is perfectly applied, the kind that looks subtle but enhances everything. Her full, puffy lips have just the right amount of gloss, perfectly arched brows, and dark, long lashes that make her foxy blue eyes stand out. I notice the small gold hoops in her ears paired with the delicate chain around her neck, resting right above her collarbone.
Everything about her is polished, controlled and perfectly effortless.
And suddenly, I regret my choice of no makeup besides mascara, and an oversized sweater paired with leggings.
Another giggle comes out, softer this time. Her friend murmurs something, and the blonde girl's lips curl—not in joy, but in something more restrained.
Then her eyes flicker over her shoulder.
And they land directly on me.
It happens in an instant, but the way she looks at me... it's not curiosity or by coincidence. It's irritation, like I'm something inconvenient. Someone she is unimpressed with, or already doesn't like.
Her fox shaped eyes narrow just slightly before she turns back to whisper something to the girl beside her. The two of them simultaneously smirk. Meanwhile, I feel the color drain from my face.
My stomach twists, an old, unwelcome feeling unfurling beneath my ribs. The kind that reminds me of locker-lined hallways and whispered laughter that always seemed to follow me no matter which school I went to. Like a shadow I could never shake.
