falling for my hot highschool bully

2

Chapter Two

I exhaled slowly and kept walking toward the admin office like nothing had happened. People stared at me as I walked away.

Like I hadn’t just set the entire hallway on fire.

The sound of my footsteps echoed louder than usual, or maybe it just felt that way.

The polished marble floor under my shoes reflected every face watching me. Eyes followed me from every direction, different emotions were emitting from them. Some were wide with shock, others were curious. A few just looked scared.

I heard a group near the lockers lean closer together. Their voices dropped, but not enough. “That was insane.”

A sniff laugh slipped out from someone else, sharp and uneasy, possibly did?’t know whether to admire it or run from it. One kid actually backed up a step when I passed, as if I was contagious.

Inside, my mind raced. Hartwell. The name clicked somewhere in the back of my head, but I shoved it down. I couldn’t afford to connect it yet. Not when I was still trying to remember which locker was mine.

My first day was already a disaster, creating an enemy must be bad luck. Too soon to make myself a target. I’d spent years staying invisible. But one insult, one smirk from him, and I’d snapped.

I needed information first, not enemies. Yet I’d already made the biggest one possible, if not the most difficult one.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of orientation packets, locker assignments, and wary glances. The counselor had given me a laminated schedule and a fake smile.

“Blackwell Academy expects excellence, Ms. Collins. Try to keep up.” Like I wasn’t already planning to do exactly that.

My schedule showed Advanced Literature, Calculus, and interestingly—several honors classes I’d fought to get into. Scholarship students didn’t usually get this track, but I’d aced every test they threw at me.

They’d put me on the remedial track at first. I’d walked into the principal’s office with my test scores and walked out with an honors schedule.

Knowledge was power, and I planned to collect as much as I could. Every grade, every teacher’s favor. Blackwell was a fortress, and I was here to breach the walls.

At lunch, I sat alone at the edge of the cafeteria, a vast room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the courtyard.

The food was better than anything I’d eaten in months—grilled salmon, fresh vegetables, some fancy quinoa thing. I ate slowly, observing each student in the cafeteria. The rich ones moved in packs.

The scholarship kids huddled together near the back. The rest were somewhere in between.

That was when I noticed a vibrant girl, nobody wanted to sit with.

A girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, small and delicate with the same dark hair as the boy from the hallway, boI were toward my table carrying a tray. She plopped down without asking. No hesitation. Like she’d decided I was safe.

“Hi! I’m Priya Hartwell. You’re the girl who roasted my brother, right?” Her grin was pure sunshine. “That was epic. Nobody has ever talked to Zane like that.”

I blinked twice. Hartwell again. Why did I have to meet my family tormentors' descendants? The name tasted like ash in my mouth.

“I’m Zara,” I said carefully. “And I don’t usually start wars before the first period.”

Priya laughed. It was loud, unfiltered, and it made a few heads turn. “Too late. Zane’s is a legendary bully—blah blah. But between us?” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He is mostly bark. Mostly.”

I doubted that. The look in his eyes when I’d insulted him hadn’t been barking. It had been a vow. A promise written in the cold steel of his stare. He’d memorized my face and surely will bite.

Still, something about Priya’s open friendliness tugged at me.

Attachments were liabilities. I’d learned that the hard way. I pushed it away, but not before my chest felt a little lighter.

"I just want you to watch your back, Zane can strike at any time. Also, I heard he had planned something for you, be careful..."

Her eyes darted toward the cafeteria doors, like she expected him to burst through any second.

The girl rubbed the back of her neck, eyes darting to the table. She coughed, then forced a small laugh. "Uhmm..what's your name again?"

I smiled easily and unbothered. Taking a huge bite of my grilled salmon. The fish was flaky, perfect. I didn’t deserve this. None of us did. “Zara,” I said slowly and clearly this time.

"Z-a-r-a. You get it now."

"Yeah yeah, I get it. Just watch your back." She took her meal and left my table, bouncing like she’d just delivered a prophecy.

After lunch, I went back to continue the same boring class. In Calculus, Zane sat three rows behind me. I felt his stare like a brand on the back of my neck.

I kept my eyes on the board, solving integrals while his gaze drilled into my skull.

When the bell rang, I gathered my things quickly and fast.

A shadow fell over my desk.

“Collins,” he said. Someone must have learned of my name already. “This isn’t over.”

I stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder. The weight of my books felt grounding. I didn’t need to look at him to feel the tension crackling between us.

We were nearly eye level—he was tall, but I wasn’t small. “Looking forward to round two, Hartwell.”

His jaw flexed. For a second I thought he might say more, but he just gave me that same cold smile again and left. The hallway parted for him like he was a king.

While leaving he dropped a word which later became my nemesis. "You should Google Richard

Hartwell's family and contributions. I would love to see you cower beneath my feet after that."

I stayed rooted until the room emptied. The air felt thick. I pulled out my phone and typed in the search bar I’d been dying to use all day.

Richard Hartwell Blackwell Academy.

The first result showed a formal portrait on the school’s “Wall of the Great”—donors and board members. Richard Hartwell.

The picture emitted a distinguished aura. An untouchable man he is. He was smiling like a man who had never lost anything in his life. He was neatly dressed and trimmed.

Behind him, the Blackwell crest gleamed gold.

And standing beside him in the photo, one hand on a young boy's shoulder. A young girl was also by his side.

The girl in the picture grinned, eyes bright and crinkled, one hand brushing her cheek like she was trying not to laugh out loud.

Her shoulders were relaxed, and her mouth was open just enough to show a flash of teeth.

Everything inside me went cold.

The same boy I’d just publicly humiliated—the one who’d promised to destroy me was the son of the man I came to ruin. The same man who’d buried my father alive.

The same man who’d wiped his name from every record, every newspaper just to imprison my father.

The girl was also the sweet talkative I met in the cafeteria, I should have joined the clues.

Everything begins to click. The pieces slammed together like puzzle parts forced into place.

I never imagined the man who had buried my father alive had great influence. Now I was not just fighting a rich entitled asshole but his whole family. A dynasty. A legacy.

I was fighting a whole dynasty and legacy. And I was one scholarship kid with a vendetta.

I stared at the girl picture, my mind running at full speed. Priya. The one who’d sat with me. The one who’d warned me.

Was it a trap? Or was she just naive or pure ignorant? She didn’t know what her father or brother did.

It occurred to me that I had a plan B, perhaps I can use her as a replacement. If her brother doesn't work out, I can use her as my plan B.

The thought made me sick. But I was here to win. And winning meant doing things I hated.

I closed the phone, heart pounding with something new. I was determined to bring my father out of that prison no matter what.

Now I was in for a long stretching ride. The hallway was empty now, everyone had left for their home. Only a few cleaners and staff were still around.

Welcome to Blackwell Academy, Zara Collins.