Chapter 2Your Destruction Is Not My Problem

The bus hissed and pulled away from the curb.

Through the grimy window, I watched them. Hallie and Cole were wrapped around each other, kissing like the world was ending.

My memory stretched back, elastic and painful.

"Archer, we're going to rule the Ivies. Deal?"

"Yale or Harvard?"

"Wherever you go. Just don't leave me behind."

"Better start studying then, dreamer."

The girl who said those words—passionate, sincere, brilliant—was a ghost now. The crush I’d nursed for years had died in my previous life, somewhere between her watching Cole torment me and her lying to our teachers to protect him.

From that day forward, Hallie and I fell into a silent agreement of estrangement.

Even though we sat three desks apart, we were oceans away.

The bell rang, signaling the end of third period. A familiar, lazy voice drifted from the back door.

"Hallie-girl."

It was Cole.

The classroom erupted in whispers.

He leaned against the doorframe, crooked a finger at her, and smirked. His eyes were half-lidded, cat-like. He was wearing the oversized varsity jacket that belonged to the school's star quarterback, but Hallie was wearing his hoodie. It swallowed her frame, a branding iron made of cotton.

She blushed, immediately gathering her books.

My desk mate, a girl named Sarah, dropped her jaw. She poked my shoulder, pointing at their interlaced fingers.

"Archer, what is happening? Aren't you and Hallie, like... childhood sweethearts or something?"

She kept her voice down, but in the quiet room, it carried. Hallie froze near the door. Cole’s eyes flicked to me.

"Hallie and I are just neighbors," I said, loud enough for the back row to hear.

I shoved my calculus worksheet toward Sarah. "If you have time to gossip, you have time to check your work. You messed up the integration on question three."

Sarah blinked, confused by my coldness. She looked at my eyes—steady, indifferent—and laughed nervously. "Wrong? Really? Show me."

By the door, the tension left Hallie's shoulders. She tugged Cole’s hand, and they disappeared around the corner.

The class exploded into chatter.

The collision of high-stress academics and high-octane hormones was always messy. The room filled with words like "romantic," "soulmates," and "jealousy."

Even Sarah couldn't help but speculate on who made the first move.

I smiled at my paper and said nothing.

Only I knew the truth: Cole was playing a game he had already won.

His ante was a few months of his senior year. Hallie’s ante was her entire life.

Luckily, it was no longer my problem.