January 26th.
The school halls were buzzing louder than ever.
Brandston Reid — the boy who led Lincoln High to victory — was officially the talk of the campus.
Girls giggled when he passed by.
Guys nodded in respect.
Teachers even gave him those weird smiles like, "We knew you'd be something."
But funny enough...
None of it made Brandston particularly happy.
He didn't crave the spotlight.
He didn't feel "special."
He felt...normal.
Like he just did what he was supposed to do.
Joel, of course, was soaking up the reflected fame like a sponge.
Walking beside Brandston, throwing finger guns at every girl that looked their way.
"Yeah, that's us," Joel said loudly. "Winners, baby! CHAMPIONS!"
Brandston just shook his head and kept walking.
Meanwhile...
Somewhere upstairs, in one of the senior classrooms...
A small group of third-year girls were clustered together, whispering behind their textbooks.
At the center of it all sat Vanessa Cross.
The name alone could melt freshmen where they stood.
Vanessa wasn't just hot — she was dangerous.
Smooth caramel skin, long black hair cascading down her back, icy blue eyes that looked straight through you.
She was the definition of a heartbreaker.
Sitting lazily on top of a desk, she twirled a lollipop in her mouth while her friends crowded around her.
"You seen the new kid?" one of the girls, Tara, said, practically fanning herself.
"Brandston Reid? Oh my God, he's fine."
"Like — next-level fine," another, Mia, added.
"I heard he's single too."
Vanessa smirked, licking the lollipop once before popping it out dramatically.
"Hmph," she said.
"I don't just hear things... I make things happen."
The girls squealed around her.
"So what you gonna do, Nessa?" asked Zoe, the third girl.
Vanessa leaned back on her hands, stretching like a cat.
"I'm gonna get my hands on him," she said simply.
"And when I do, he won't even remember his own name."
The last friend, Lila, burst out laughing.
"Girl, he's as good as gone!"
They all high-fived and screamed quietly, already fantasizing about what was coming.
Across campus, Brandston had no idea he had just been drafted into a war he didn't sign up for.
He was minding his business, scrolling through his phone in the courtyard, trying not to attract attention.
Joel sat across from him, munching loudly on chips.
"Bro," Joel said through a mouthful.
"You're famous now. Might as well start signing autographs."
Brandston rolled his eyes.
"I didn't even do anything that crazy."
"You exist. That's enough," Joel deadpanned.
They both laughed.
But then, something shifted in the air.
Brandston felt it before he even looked up.
Like when you sense someone looking at you — too intensely.
Slowly, he raised his head.
Across the courtyard, walking like she owned every square inch of the earth...
Vanessa Cross.
Swaying hips.
That playful, knowing smile.
Those cold blue eyes locked dead on him.
Brandston felt his chest tighten slightly.
Joel followed his gaze and immediately choked on his chips.
"Cough— bro — bro — that's — THAT'S VANESSA CROSS!"
Brandston blinked, confused.
"Who?"
Joel gawked at him like he'd just committed a crime.
"Are you kidding me? That's the hottest, deadliest girl in this whole damn school!"
Brandston stayed still.
He didn't move.
Didn't even blink.
He just knew, deep down, that whatever this was...
It wasn't going to be simple.
Vanessa sauntered closer, still smiling that lazy, dangerous smile.
And Brandston thought to himself:
"Here we go again."