Chapter 3Your Destruction Is Not My Problem

Hallie and I were what the old folks called "sandbox sweethearts."

Our parents were best friends. We shared playpens, then tricycles, then study guides.

From kindergarten through junior year, we were a package deal. Even in Northwood High, where the tracking system split friends up based on GPA, we stayed together in the Honors track.

We tutored each other. We spent weekends in the silent section of the public library. We played duet piano at the talent show.

If she was Valedictorian, I was Salutatorian, or vice versa.

I was competitive; she was a perfectionist.

Even socially, we matched. She was the homecoming princess type; I was the captain of the debate team—not a jock, but respected.

I used to thank the universe for Hallie. She was my pacemaker, the rabbit I chased around the track.

But that Hallie vanished the day Cole transferred in.

He arrived at the start of senior year. His placement test scores were mediocre, so he wasn't in our AP classes, but his name filtered through the hallways like smoke.

He was beautiful in a way that signaled danger. Old money, new car, bad attitude.

The moment he arrived, the spotlight shifted. The love notes that used to find their way into my locker were suddenly being redirected to his.

Back then, stupidly, I had asked Hallie: "Who's better looking? Me or the new guy?"

She hadn't looked me in the eye. She just stared at her sneakers, cheeks pink. "You guys are... different."

In hindsight, she was already gone.

Cole was different. He was aiming for art school, or maybe just coasting on a trust fund. Compared to the boys in oversized hoodies and glasses, he looked like a catalogue model.

He was the forbidden fruit in a garden of overachievers.

So when he smiled that crooked smile and blocked her path, and she actually stopped walking... he had already won the game.