Heart strings and hidden agendas
1264 Words
I didn’t sleep much that night.
I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling while my phone buzzed beside me—one new message from Emery.
“You looked cute today. Don’t let Amanda get in your head.”
Cute. Me.
And that was the problem.
Emery wasn’t supposed to call me cute. Or text me goodnight. Or kiss me so softly it felt like the world disappeared. He was supposed to be a weapon—a distraction. A tool in my arsenal to destroy Amanda Bentley, one perfectly timed moment at a time.
But now?
Now I was thinking about the way his fingers brushed mine. The way he looked at me like I was something valuable, like I mattered.
And I hated it.
Not because it didn’t feel good.
But because it felt too good.
Because what if this was just another setup? What if I was the joke this time?
I wasn’t naïve. I knew the stories. Hot guy shows up, gets close to the weird girl, pretends to care—and then? Humiliation. Betrayal. Another tale for the school gossip graveyard.
I’d lived through it once already.
Amanda.
Best friend turned villain turned Queen B of my personal hell.
I wouldn’t survive that twice.
So why was I still smiling like a fool every time Emery’s name popped up on my screen?
---
The next day at school felt off.
Amanda hadn’t made any snide remarks. No sticky notes on my locker. No smoothie showers. Nothing. It was like she was… calm. Too calm.
And that scared me.
Because Amanda Bentley was never calm unless she was scheming.
I kept my head down most of the day. It wasn’t until lunch that I saw her. Perched at her usual table like a villainess in a designer ad campaign, sunglasses on indoors, chewing her gum like it personally offended her. Her minions—Holly and Brianna—were whispering beside her. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the way they looked over at me?
Not good.
I glanced around for Emery.
He wasn’t in the cafeteria.
But Johnny was.
He gave me a thumbs up from across the room and subtly held up a stack of envelopes.
The party was on.
Amanda would be there. She couldn’t resist an invite to anything Johnny threw. And that would be the night we started phase one: Social Sabotage.
Operation Vindication was finally going live.
But I still had one problem.
Emery.
---
After school, I texted him.
“Can we talk? Not like sabotage talk. Just… talk.”
He replied almost instantly.
“Meet me behind the theater at 4. I’m on a short shift.”
I told Johnny I was working on “chemistry homework” and caught the next bus downtown. My head was buzzing. My hands were sweating. It wasn’t even hot out.
When I got there, Emery was leaning against the brick wall, sleeves rolled up, earphones in. He looked up the moment I appeared and pulled one bud out.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey.”
I stood a few feet away, arms crossed, suddenly unsure of everything.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “That’s why I’m here.”
He nodded and waited.
Which somehow made it worse.
“I like you,” I blurted, then groaned. “Ugh. God. That wasn’t how I wanted to start this.”
He smirked. “Noted.”
“But that’s not the point,” I continued quickly. “The point is—I don’t know if I should like you.”
His brows furrowed. “Why not?”
I stared at the cracks in the pavement.
“Because… you’re the first person who’s actually seen me in forever. Like, really seen me. And I don’t trust it. It feels like one of those dreams where everything’s perfect, and then you wake up and realize you’ve drooled on your math textbook and your cat’s on your head.”
He chuckled. “That’s… specific.”
“I’m being serious.”
“I know.” He took a step closer. “And I get it. You think I’m too good to be true.”
“A little.”
He nodded. “That’s fair.”
Silence.
He looked up at the sky and then back at me.
“I’m not perfect, Aaliyah. Not even close. I’ve done things I regret. I’ve made mistakes. But I’m not pretending with you.”
I wanted to believe him.
“I need to know you’re not doing this because you feel bad for me. Or because you’re bored. Or—God—for some stupid revenge fantasy against Amanda.”
Emery’s jaw tensed.
“Listen. Amanda and I… we go back. She played me. Twisted things. Got in my head and used me like a trophy.”
He looked at me then, eyes serious.
“When I walked away from her, it was the first time I felt like I chose me. And when I met you… it wasn’t revenge I saw. It was fire. Real fire. You weren’t hiding. You were fighting. And I thought... maybe I want to fight too.”
I bit my lip. “So you’re not playing me?”
He leaned in slowly, so close I could smell the faint scent of coffee on his breath.
“Only if I get to play with you.”
That made me laugh. Finally. The tension broke.
I smacked his arm and rolled my eyes. “Cheesy.”
“You like cheesy,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
Unfortunately… I did.
And maybe—just maybe—I was ready to admit that.
---
Later that night, we met up again in the corner booth of an old pizza place near the edge of town. I brought the updated Operation Vindication posterboard folded under my hoodie. Emery brought fries.
“So,” I whispered, unfolding the board and revealing Amanda’s face circled in red like a target. “We begin with social sabotage.”
Emery raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me this includes exposing her secret love for weird fanfiction.”
“Oh, that’s already part of phase three.”
We spent the next hour plotting.
First up: a little impersonation.
Amanda had been DMing a college freshman on i********: pretending to be eighteen. (Gross.) Johnny snagged screenshots. We’d anonymously forward them to the guy… from an account named TruthTea.
Second: sabotaging her reputation by highlighting her hypocrisy. Her anti-bullying speech from last year was being nominated for a community award. All we had to do was send in video evidence of her bullying Martha. Conveniently, I had it saved on my cloud from the cafeteria incident.
Third: steal the spotlight at Johnny’s party.
That part?
That would be all me.
---
We left the pizza place just after ten. The streets were quiet, the air cool. Emery offered to walk me home. I let him. For once, I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts.
“I meant what I said,” he told me as we reached my front porch. “I won’t hurt you, Aaliyah.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I’m just afraid… of what I’ll do if you do.”
He nodded, like he understood.
Then he kissed my forehead.
Soft. Gentle. Real.
And left without another word.
---
The war was on.
But somewhere deep down, I was starting to wonder if I’d already lost something bigger—
My heart.
- Writer
