ARWAN

I walk straight ahead through the college corridors, my footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. As I pass familiar faces, my teammates high-five me while the rest simply smile and ask me how my weekend was, their smiles reflecting the reputation I've built up over the years. Being a well-liked and accomplished athlete has its perks—among other things, being hailed as if I were a Hollywood star.

I have to admit it: I enjoy the popularity. At school, I was far from famous, so I decided to change that when I got to university. I wanted to completely transform my life to the point where others would recognise me more. And it worked because today, I'm a long way from the little schoolboy who was a bit too scared of other people. Being so admired boosts my ego while reminding me to keep my feet on the ground. And it's this balance that I need if I'm not to flinch.

As I make my way across the crowded campus this morning, I have only one goal: to find Emery. That little pest—who is, by extension, my sister's best friend—thought it'd be funny to mess up my equipment just before my basketball practice. I should have known when I saw her near the changing rooms yesterday, but her excuse was that she just wanted to hang out with Ivan, one of my teammates. And being the idiot I am, I believed her—well, I half-believed her.

"Hey, man!" Jared stops me in my haste. "What's up? Why do you look like you want to smash things up?"

I don't laugh at his attempt to calm my nerves, taking a deep breath and trying to regain my composure. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, sorry I asked," he apologises immediately. "What did she do this time?"

Without saying a word, I reach into my bag and pull out my basketball gear. My fists clench once again as I see what Emery did to them. A large tear rips through my shirt, a visual reminder that she's gone way over the line. Under normal circumstances, this kind of prank wouldn't have got to me; I'm used to it. I'm used to her. The fact that she's taken a strange liking to mess with me is fine. Except that these things cost a fortune, and I'm not particularly rich at the moment—or at any time, to be honest.

I work part-time and rely on my scholarship to make ends meet, so replacing my equipment isn't necessarily on my shopping list.

"Whoa…" my best mate exclaims. "She didn't pull any punches. Are you sure she's not some kind of werewolf? How did she even do that?"

"I don't know," I sigh, stuffing it back into my bag, "and I don't give a fuck. Believe me, I'm not going to pay for this shit."

I leave Jared behind, heading towards where I know I'll find that bloody Emery. As I approach the cafeteria, I see her in the distance. She's sitting around a table with her group of friends—my sister is one of them—while a guy is ogling her cleavage—not that he's discreet. I waste no time in hurrying towards her. She seems to sense my presence as she turns her head even before I reach her.

"Waverly!" I shout, making everyone around her turn their heads. "Hurry up and get your ass up!"

"Arwan, what are you doing?" my sister is already berating me.

I ignore her, concentrating my attention on my number one enemy. Emery doesn't protest and gets up straight away, adjusting her cleavage and smiling at the man who was staring at her just a second ago. When her eyes meet mine, she gives me that petty smile that makes me want to make her regret ever stepping in my way. Without waiting for her, I leave the cafeteria and head for an empty classroom. She arrives a few seconds later, closing the door behind us.

"Care to explain?" I attack her, pulling out my shirt.

She sifts through the garment as if she'd never seen it before.

"Mhm… It looks like your jersey's been ripped."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Why would you do that to my shirt?"

She crosses her arms under her chest. "Do you have any proof? Because you're making serious accusations against me, and I—"

"Cut the bullshit for a second. I know it's you."

She moistens her lips, no longer trying to defend herself. I'm used to it. I know she has this serious problem of messing with my stuff without me even understanding why. Until two years ago, I only knew her as my little sister's best friend who spent her days at our place, even though she had a palace all to herself. Since she started university, she's decided to make my life a living hell. It began with little jokes, like spreading rumours about my sex life when I was about to seal the deal with a girl I liked or crashing parties organised by my team.

Everything changed this year when she started to go further than just making jokes. I didn't pay much attention before, simply ignoring her to not give her more power over my life than she thinks she has. But when she started attacking me about my sport, I had to fight back. Just like today.

"Maybe I had something to do with it," she admits.

"Okay, cool confession. Now you're going to pay me back."

She giggles at that last sentence. "Pay you back?"

"Yes, you know, it's that thing you do when you're fucking with someone else's property. You better pay me," I threaten.

"Or what?" she tempts me as she approaches.

"You don't want me to finish this sentence."

She smiles at me in that sly way of hers. I hate that smile. "So many words yet so little action…"

"Do you think it's funny?" I approach her. "You think it's funny to mess up my fucking life? Basketball's no joke to me. It's my future."

And my fucking reason to breathe.

"Okay, Jordan. Chill. I'll pay you back if it's that important. You're not funny, you know that? It was just a joke."

'A joke,' huh? Give me a break.

"We have different definitions, apparently. And some people actually have to work, you know?" I remind her. "We don't all live off Daddy's money."

She hates getting that remark, and that's precisely why I say it. It's the truth, after all. Emery Ashford-Waverly is the daughter of the esteemed Lord William Ashford, a leading figure in British society. He is known for his successful businesses and influential position in high society. A respected and accomplished businessman, he has built an empire that spans several sectors, from finance to real estate.

That's the image he paints. In truth, everyone knows their money is far from clean and honest. It comes from shenanigans, low costs, and betrayals that have filled the pages of her family history for generations. I know Emery isn't her father, but seeing her act like this—a bitch who thinks she can get away with anything—makes me wonder. She makes it really hard not to judge her based on her family background.

"Is that your only argument?"

I shrug. "It's the only one I need. You can use his money to pay me back, by the way. No need to thank you."

I leave my shirt on her shoulder before leaving the classroom. I don't expect any reaction from her, preferring to meet up with a group of friends I spotted on my way into the cafeteria. I'm not usually this angry. I'm always calm, always smiling, always looking on the bright side of life. But Emery always manages to bring out the worst in me. She always provokes this bad mood that drives me to be unpleasant with the world. But by shutting her up, I already feel so much better.

So when I meet up with my friends, it's with a huge smile covering my lips.

"What's up, mate?" asks Jar, who has joined them in the meantime. "Did you convince her?"

"Convince who?" asks Zoya immediately, standing next to me. "And of what?"

I sling my arm over her shoulders before taking a chip from her tray. "Nothing, forget it. It's no big deal."

"Emery," my friend answers for me. "She's done it again."

I give Jared a dark look. He knows I purposely dodged the subject; Zoya hatreds Emery—and I can't blame her, to be honest. The thing is, whenever Zoya and I are alone, Emery always finds a way to interrupt us. Like that time, in the middle of a private party, when she managed to find her way around and give me a hard time. Zoya has this theory that Emery is jealous; I personally think she just has a vendetta against me—for some obscure reason.

"Are you serious? Again?" she exasperates. "You know it's turning into bullying at this point?"

"She's got a point," Jar agrees. "Don't you want to, like, report her? That'll teach her a lesson, won't it?"

I sigh. "Believe me, I've already thought about it. But she's my sister's BFF; she'd hate me if I did anything."

When Liliana's mad at me, she doesn't go halfway—ever.

"Don't you want to get back at her in some other way?" he insists. "Can't we—"

"Can we talk about something else?" I cut him off. "I don't really want to spend my day talking about my little sister's best friend. Besides, isn't there a party planned for tonight?"

"Yes!" exclaims Zoya. "At Ty's house. Everyone's going to be there."

"Yeah, I've heard about it. What is he celebrating again?"

Jared laughs. "You think Ty waits for a reason to throw parties?"

"Yeah, fair enough," I admit. "I've got training tomorrow morning, though, so I won't stay long."

"Don't worry," he assures me. "We figured as much."

"You'll still have time for me, right?"

I look down at Zoya, who's giving me those angel eyes that pull me every time I look into them. She and I have been friends since I started university. In fact, she's the first person I met here. I never thought of her as anything other than a friend until earlier this year when something happened between us during a party. Her lips on mine triggered something in me, a kind of reaction that changed everything in my mind. I already knew she was beautiful, but now I just think she's gorgeous. And I absolutely can't look away.

My lip curls up, and I offer her a wry smile.

"Of course."

She blushes slightly at my reply, tucking a lock of her long black hair back behind her ear.

I take advantage of her inattention to lean in a little closer and whisper to her, "I've got a special place for you tonight."

In response, she moistens her lips.

That's enough to tell me she's understood me.