Worth the Fall

Chapter 3

“What do you need help with?” the girl beside him asks, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.

Ah.

So she’s mean and blonde.

Good to know.

“Uh…” I manage, which is humiliating considering I do, in fact, know words. I used to be pretty good at them, actually. Honor roll. Debate team. Occasional academic weapon.

And yet one attractive boy with blue eyes and tattoos turns me into a malfunctioning Roomba.

“Are you new?” he asks, and somehow his voice is the complete opposite of hers.

Soft. Calm. Kind.

Which should honestly be illegal with a face like that.

“Yeah,” I say, finally remembering how to function. “My name is Nessa. Could you maybe help me find Mrs. Peterson’s class? Room 309?”

I keep my eyes anywhere but his.

Because I already know if I look directly at him again, I’m done for.

He smirks.

Not a cruel smirk.

A he knows exactly what he’s doing to me smirk.

“My name is Landon Baxter,” he says.

And he says it like I’m supposed to gasp.

Maybe curtsy.

Possibly pass out.

Unfortunately for him, I do know exactly what that name means.

Baxter Records.

One of the biggest music labels on the West Coast.

Which means this boy isn’t just ridiculously attractive and painfully out of my league—he’s rich-rich.

Like “my family probably owns islands and politicians” rich.

“Baxter?” I repeat, trying very hard not to sound impressed.

His mouth twitches.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, almost amused. Then he points down the hall. “Mrs. Peterson’s class is that way. Right side, south hall.”

“Thank you, Landon.”

And yes, I say his name on purpose.

If he’s going to introduce himself like a celebrity on a red carpet, the least I can do is humble him a little.

I glance at him one last time before turning away.

Huge mistake.

Walking away from Landon Baxter feels strangely wrong, like I’m stepping out of a moment I’m supposed to stay in.

Which is ridiculous.

I have never met this boy before in my life.

And yet somehow, in less than sixty seconds, he has already worked his way into every corner of my brain like an intrusive thought in designer boots.

I don’t believe in love at first sight.

I don’t believe in fate.

And fairy tales? Please.

I’m seventeen, not stupid.

But something about Landon Baxter makes me question everything I’ve always been so sure of.

And honestly?

That feels a little dangerous.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of syllabi, introductions, and me pretending I can focus on literally anything other than the fact that I may have just met the prettiest boy in California.

Or maybe the world.

I’m not being dramatic.

Okay, maybe a little.

But in my defense, his eyes are aggressively blue.

By lunchtime, I’ve retained exactly zero useful academic information.

What I have retained is this:

Mrs. Peterson assigns way too much reading.

Rich kids somehow make uniforms look expensive.

And I am now faced with the single most horrifying social event in teenage history:

Where do I sit at lunch?

I stand at the edge of the cafeteria clutching my tray like it’s a flotation device and I’m stranded in shark-infested waters.

The cafeteria at Pacific Sands somehow manages to look nicer than some restaurants I’ve been to. Everything is polished and spotless, and every table feels like it comes with its own social ranking.

As I scan the room, my eyes betray me and land on him immediately.

Landon.

Of course.

He’s not sitting with the jocks. He’s way too effortlessly cool for that.

No, he’s at one of the center tables, surrounded by painfully beautiful people who all look like they were genetically engineered in Beverly Hills.

And girls.

So many girls.

All of them stunning.

All of them polished.

All of them exactly the kind of girls I already know I can’t compete with.

Not that I’m trying to.

Obviously.

Totally.

I look down at my tray.

I should probably just throw this away and head to study hall early.

That seems mature.

And emotionally safe.

“Nessa! Over here!”

I look up so fast I nearly launch a grape off my tray.

A girl from my second period—Alexis Adams—is waving me over from a nearby table.

I freeze for half a second before realizing she is, in fact, talking to me.

My cheeks immediately go hot.

Cool.

Love public attention.

I make my way over and sit down, relieved to find it’s just her and one other girl.

“Nessa,” Alexis says brightly, “this is Jasmine Novera. She’s my best friend and basically the only person I trust in this school.”

She tosses her long blonde hair in Jasmine’s direction like she’s presenting her to the class.

Jasmine rolls her eyes.

“Hi,” I say softly.

“Girl,” Jasmine says immediately, narrowing her eyes at me in mock concern, “you are going to have to break out of that shell if you want to survive here.”

I let out a small laugh.

“I just…” I glance down at my tray. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m weird because I don’t come from money.”

There.

Humiliating, but honest.

Alexis snorts.

“Only idiots like Landon and Kasey care about status.”

My head snaps up.

Landon?

Jasmine gives Alexis a look. “That is not entirely fair.”

“It is mostly fair,” Alexis says, shrugging. “The rest of us know our parents’ money isn’t really our money. We can’t even touch our trust funds until we’re twenty-one.”

I nod, but not because I fully agree.

It’s just… easy for people with money to say money doesn’t matter.

It always matters when you’re the one without it.

Still, I don’t want pity.

And I definitely don’t want to spend my first lunch sounding insecure.

“So,” I say quickly, desperate to move on, “what’s the gossip here? Because if this place is anything like my old school, there has to be something entertaining going on.”

Jasmine points at me with her fork.

“Oh, I knew I was going to like you.”

Alexis grins.

“Well,” she says, leaning in dramatically, “rumor has it—”

But I don’t hear the rest.

Because at that exact moment, I glance across the cafeteria and catch Landon looking at me.

Not in a casual, absent-minded way.

Not in a who’s that? kind of way.

He is fully, unmistakably looking at me.

And when he realizes I caught him—

He looks away.

But I can’t.

I just keep staring.

Because the thing is… he doesn’t look like a bad guy.

He looks like someone pretending to be one.

Like the tattoos, the smirk, the girls, the reputation—none of it fits quite right.

Like maybe he’s playing a part he was handed a long time ago and never got the chance to refuse.

“—so basically Landon and Kasey were hooking up while he was still—”

I snap back to the table so fast I almost give myself whiplash.

“Landon Baxter?” I ask, trying—and failing—to sound normal.

Alexis and Jasmine go completely still.

Then both of them grin.

“Ohhh,” Alexis says.

“Does the new girl have a crush?” Jasmine sings.

I immediately reach for my water like hydration can somehow save my dignity.

“I do not have a crush,” I say.

They just stare at me.

I sigh.

“Okay,” I mutter. “Maybe a very tiny, incredibly inconvenient one.”

They burst into laughter.

And honestly?

Fair.

Because yes.

I absolutely do.

(Chapter Theme song: Levitating by Dua Lipa)