The Wrong Scott

Chapter 1

Alicia Collete

The second warning bell rings, and suddenly the hallway turns into complete chaos.
Lockers slam shut around me. Students rush past in every direction like the building is on fire instead of everyone just being late to first period. Somebody nearly hits me in the face with their backpack, and honestly? At this point, I would not even be surprised if I died in the halls of Westbridge Preparatory Academy.

"Senior year is ruining my life," I mutter, tightening my grip on my books.
Noah snorts beside me. "You say that every single day."
"Because every single day it gets worse."
"You finished next week's assignments yesterday."
"That's not the point."i sigh
"It literally is."
I glare at him over the top of my glasses while adjusting my bag on my shoulder. Noah only grins wider, completely unbothered.
I hate how relaxed he always is.
Meanwhile, I've been stressed since August.
Westbridge already feels like one giant pressure cooker, but final year somehow makes everything ten times worse. Every teacher talks about college applications like our entire future depends on it.
Maybe it does.
Three more months.
Three months until final exams.
Three months until adulthood.
Three months until everyone expects us to suddenly know what we're doing with our lives.
I'm trying very hard not to spiral about it.

"You need therapy," Noah says casually.
"You need to stop talking."
"You color-coded your study schedule."
"That's called organization."
"That's called psychotic behavior."
I open my mouth to defend myself, but Noah suddenly grabs my arm.
"Oh my God."
Immediately, I sigh. "No."
"Yes."
"I already know this is about a boy."
"It's always about a boy."
I roll my eyes before following his stare farther down the hallway.
And there they are.
The football team.
Of course.
A group of tall boys in black-and-white varsity jackets move through the hallway like they own the entire school. Which they basically do. People automatically step aside for them. Girls straighten up the second they walk past.
It's ridiculous.
Noah leans closer to me dramatically. "Curly hair near the back."
I barely glance up. "What about him?"
"I think I'm in love."
"You don't even know his name."
"I can still feel a connection."
"You said that about your barista last month."
"He smiled at me."
"He asked for your order."
Noah ignores me completely. "Do you think he likes boys?"
"I think you need professional help."
He gasps loudly. "You're such a bad friend."
I shake my head, trying to move around a group of freshmen blocking the middle of the hallway.
Huge mistake.
Someone slams into my shoulder hard enough to make me stumble.
My books slip from my arms instantly.
"Oh my God!!!"
My notebook hits the floor first.
Then my pens.
Then the last remaining pieces of my dignity.
Heat rushes to my face as I crouch down quickly, trying to gather everything while students continue walking around me like I don't exist.

"Watch where you're going."
My stomach twists immediately.
I look up....Aaron Scott.

Of course it's Aaron Scott.
Star quarterback. Resident asshole. Walking ego in a varsity jacket.
He stares down at me with mild irritation, like I'm somehow inconveniencing him.

"You bumped into me," I say before I can stop myself.
One of his teammates laughs under his breath.
Aaron finally looks at me properly, eyes briefly scanning over my glasses, my books, my painfully embarrassing existence before his expression turns completely uninterested again.
"Then pay attention next time."
Excuse me?
I stare at him in disbelief.
Beside me, even Noah looks offended, which says a lot considering Noah usually finds rude men attractive for some reason.

Aaron glances at the notebook lying near his shoe.
For one humiliating second, I think he might actually help me.
Instead, he steps over it carelessly.
"The bell's about to ring," he says to his friends.
And then he walks away.
Just like that.
I stand up quickly, grab my notebook back into my bag while my face burns with humiliation.
Noah hands me my pen carefully. "Well," he says, wincing, "that was aggressively unattractive of him."
I zip my bag shut harder than necessary. "I hate football players."
"That's fair," Noah admits. Then his eyes drift down the hallway again. "Unfortunately, his friend is still beautiful."
I glare at him. "You need standards."
"And you need to stop being hot when you're angry."
"I'm not hot. I'm stressed."
"You're both."
I roll my eyes, but before I can answer, laughter echoes from farther down the hallway.Aaron Scott!

I look up just in time to see him disappear around the corner with his teammates, completely unaffected by what just happened.
Like knocking into me meant absolutely nothing.
Which, to him, it probably didn't.
The final bell rings again.
I adjust my glasses, tighten my grip on my books, and force myself to start walking toward class.
Still for some annoying reason, I can't stop thinking about the way Aaron Scott didn't even bother to apologize.