Not My Type

''Fine if that's how this is''

Saturday morning.

No classes. No alarms. Just chaos.

Charlotte woke up, stretched, and got ready for the day. Savannah was already awake, sitting on her bed scrolling through her phone. Tyla was at her desk pretending to "study," but really watching Charlotte like a villain in a teen drama.

Charlotte didn't notice.

She kept it simple but clean:

black cropped tee

black ruffled mini skirt

messy bun

black boots

clear gloss

silver hoops

She looked effortlessly cool — not trying, not caring, just existing.

Savannah looked up. "Cute."

Charlotte shrugged. "It's Saturday."

Tyla rolled her eyes so hard she almost fell off her chair.

Charlotte, Savannah, and Ryder met in the hallway.

Ryder: "You look like a goth fairy."

Charlotte: "Thanks?"

Savannah: "He means it as a compliment."

They walked downstairs together.

Tyla followed behind them, wearing a corset top and a sparkly mini skirt like she was going to a nightclub at 10 a.m.

Ryder whispered, "Why is she dressed like she's about to perform at Coachella."

Savannah: "Because she's Tyla."

Earlier that morning — before Charlotte woke up — Tyla had grabbed Charlotte's phone again.

She opened the messages with Tom.

And she deleted:

the long message

the rude message

the first message

Tom's replies

EVERYTHING

She left the chat looking clean and normal.

So when Charlotte checked her phone later, she'd think Tom was acting weird for no reason.

Tyla smiled to herself.

Perfect.

When they reached the dining hall, people turned to look.

Not in a dramatic "she's stunning" way — more like:

"Wow, she actually looks awake today."

Charlotte didn't care.

She grabbed a tray and walked toward the table where Tom usually sat.

Tom was already there.

Hoodie up. Head down. Fork in hand.

He looked up when she approached.

Then he looked away.

Didn't say hi. Didn't nod. Didn't grunt.

Just ignored her.

Charlotte blinked. "Okay... rude."

Savannah frowned. "He didn't say anything?"

Charlotte: "No."