Her Sweet Revenge

Your enemy, my frenemy

The next morning, everything felt… different.

The world hadn’t changed. My life hadn’t magically become a fairytale. I still had a math test I didn’t study for, Johnny still forgot to put the milk back in the fridge, and Amanda Bentley still probably had a new evil plan in motion involving glitter, gossip, and someone’s ruined self-esteem.

But I felt different.

Like something inside me had finally cracked open—no, blossomed. That kiss last night? It was nothing like the ones I read about in books or saw in movies.

It was better.

His mouth, soft but confident. The way he said, “Can I kiss you?” like he actually cared if I said yes. Like he wasn’t expecting it, just hoping.

And when our lips touched?

Fireworks.

Shooting stars.

An entire season of Bridgerton in one single kiss.

And then, just like that, reality slammed back in with a greasy voice yelling about “lover boy” and “theater 7.”

Still, I gave him my number. He said he’d call.

And I walked home with my feet nowhere near the ground.

But the euphoria didn’t last forever.

By second period the next day, I remembered the game we were playing.

Revenge.

That wasn’t just some silly high school plot anymore. It was real. Amanda humiliated me. And now I had allies. I had purpose. I had momentum.

I needed to stay focused.

Still… I couldn’t help replaying Emery’s words in my head: “You look like you could use a friend.”

Did I?

Yes. Desperately.

But wanting someone—that terrified me more than being ignored. People who get close always leave, right?

That’s why Amanda’s betrayal hurt so much. She was supposed to be my person.

Now she was the enemy.

And I wasn’t about to lose sight of that.

Especially when, as I passed the quad after lunch, I saw Amanda twirling her hair and pretending to laugh at some boy’s joke, while sneaking glances toward the school entrance.

Waiting.

For him.

I almost felt bad for her.

Almost.

Emery hadn’t even looked in her direction since the Martha incident. He walked the halls with headphones in, head down, like nothing interested him. And every time she tried to trap him with her claws and cackles, he just… walked away.

I knew what that was like.

Being dismissed.

Maybe that’s why it felt so good to watch her squirm for once.

And she was squirming. The failed flirting, the fake “accidental” run-ins, the wardrobe changes halfway through the day. She was unraveling.

And I was giggling.

It felt dangerous. It felt good.

That afternoon, I headed to the bathroom after bio class to fix my ponytail before gym. As soon as I walked in, the air shifted.

Amanda followed me inside.

Fantastic.

She wrinkled her nose dramatically. “Ugh. It smells in here.”

Then her eyes landed on me. Her smirk widened.

Perfect.

I rolled my eyes and turned to the mirror, ignoring her.

She leaned against the sink next to me like we were besties or something. “You know,” she said casually, “you’d actually be kind of cute if you, like, put on makeup or wore something not from a yard sale… or I don’t know, changed your face.”

She giggled to herself like she’d just told the world’s funniest joke and sauntered out, her perfume cloud trailing behind like the stench of injustice.

I stood there, dumbfounded.

Why… did she care how I looked?

Was that an insult or a backhanded compliment?

I couldn’t tell, and honestly, I didn’t want to give her that much mental energy. I washed my hands, fixed my ponytail, and stormed out the door—

SLAM!

Right into a wall of muscle.

“Ow!”

I looked up—and nearly gasped.

Emery.

Again.

Like fate was playing connect-the-dots with our lives.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing a hand through his already-messy hair.

“Yes. Thanks, new kid,” I teased, trying to keep my cool.

He smirked. “I do have a name. Emery.”

“That’s a nice name. I mean… for a boy.”

Smooth, Aaliyah. Real smooth.

His smirk deepened, and my stomach did a cartwheel.

“You come around to your senses yet?” he asked, stepping just a little too close. “You’re going to need help, you know.”

I thought about it.

Did I want help?

Or was I just afraid of letting someone in?

“…Fine,” I finally said. “Let’s meet up after school.”

He grinned like I just handed him the keys to the kingdom. “Meet me at the theater. I work a shift there.”

“Okay.”

---

After school, my stomach was a wreck.

A million thoughts danced through my head—what if he was just messing with me? What if he told Amanda everything? What if I let myself like him and he just... disappears?

But still, I showed up.

I found him in the lobby, sweeping popcorn with his earbuds in. He looked so normal. So tired. So… sad. Like life had worn down the edges of him, and he just got good at hiding it.

But when he looked up and saw me?

That sadness vanished like it had never existed.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound breezy, but probably sounding like a deflated balloon.

“What’s in it for you?” I blurted. “Why are you helping me?”

He blinked. “Huh? Um… nothing really.”

Then he smirked again.

I knew it.

He had an agenda.

I felt something twist inside. Maybe I wasn’t special after all. Maybe he was just bored. Or worse—using me.

He noticed my face fall.

“I won’t hurt you, you know,” he said, suddenly serious. “I just want to help. And like I said… she’s not exactly my favorite person.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach flutter. Not just the words—the way he meant them.

I smiled. Bigger than I should’ve. But it felt nice. Warm.

Until he dropped the broom.

He stepped forward, and suddenly he was right there. Close enough that I could smell peppermint again. His eyes locked on mine, full of something sharp and soft at the same time.

“You like me, don’t you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

But standing this close to him? I was getting dizzy.

Then—

“HEY!”

The manager burst through the door. A man with a gut, a greasy polo, and a permanent scowl.

“I don’t pay you to flirt with floozies!”

My jaw dropped.

Emery’s hands curled into fists, his eyes darkened.

“She isn’t a floozie,” he growled. “And you should watch your mouth when you talk about my girl.”

Did he just—?

My girl?

I froze.

The manager snorted. “Oh, excuse me. Girlfriend. Pssht. Like I care. No loitering. No free food. This isn’t a date.”

And I could have left.

But I didn’t.

I marched up, pulled a twenty from my pocket, and slammed it on the counter. “Let me get a movie ticket and a large bucket of popcorn. Keep the change. This place looks like it needs it.”

The guy blinked at me.

Emery laughed under his breath.

“I’m a paying customer. Or are you hard of hearing?”

The manager muttered something and slithered away, finally gone.

“Gross,” I said.

“You’re kind of scary,” Emery said with a grin.

“You like that?”

“I love that.”

We snuck out the back door for his break and took a walk under the fading sunset.

“I gotta ask,” I said. “Why are you working here?”

His face fell.

He looked away.

“My mom’s sick. Like… bad sick. Can’t afford her treatments. So I help out.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m… really sorry,” I finally managed. “I hope she gets better.”

He looked at me.

Not like a girl.

Like the girl.

Like I was something worth looking at.

His hand brushed mine.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.

I nodded before my brain caught up.

And this time?

The kiss was longer.

Softer.

Hotter.

Sweeter.

Like he needed it just as much as I did.

The door creaked open behind us. We broke apart like teenagers caught with fireworks.

“LOVER BOY! THEATER SEVEN!”

Emery groaned, then turned to me, brushing my cheek.

“Can I call you?”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

He grinned, jogged off, and disappeared through the door.

And me?

I floated home.

Like I was on a cloud.

A hot, mysterious, possibly dangerous cloud named Emery.

And for once, I didn’t feel invisible.

I felt… chosen.

Wanted.

Alive.