The not-so-love story between Alma Giovanni and Grey Astrid started with the familiar beeping of her alarm clock.

"Beep…beep…beep…"

Alma smacked the snooze button and sat up, sighing in frustration. She was still haunted by the image of Grey, the "bad boy" she'd spent the last few months trying to erase from her memory. Her mind betrayed her with flashes of late nights and whispered promises that had clearly meant more to her than to him. As she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the early morning light cast a warm glow over her room, illuminating the familiar posters, books, and the small, framed photo of her and her best friend Larry. It was the first day of senior year, and she was determined to distance herself from every bit of heartache she'd ever known. And yet, as her feet hit the floor, she knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

Downstairs, her mother greeted her with a grin as she set a plate down on the kitchen island. "Hey, sweetie! You look... well, you look like you didn't sleep," Mrs. Giovanni teased, her voice bright with morning energy.

Alma tried to keep her face neutral as she took a seat, but her mother's watchful eyes noticed the slump in her shoulders, the telltale signs of a restless night. She rolled her eyes and took a bite of the sandwich, grateful for the distraction. Her parents, high-profile, wealthy professionals, had always been encouraging yet oddly oblivious to the struggles she kept hidden. They gave her all the resources she could need, the expectations heavy but somehow meant to help her succeed. But they were blissfully unaware of the tangled web she'd woven for herself with Grey.

The drive to school felt a bit lighter, her mood lifting as Ariana Grande's "Breathin'" blared through the speakers, filling her car with a familiar beat that grounded her. Colesaw High loomed ahead, a mix of beige brick and ivy-covered walls, bustling with students excited for another year of teenage drama and expectations. Alma pushed her way through the crowded hallways, trying to focus on her goals. Just one more year, she thought. One more year until freedom.

As she reached her locker, she felt a familiar presence at her side. "Hey, sunshine."

Larry leaned casually against the locker next to hers, his usual easy-going grin lighting up his face. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and he looked comfortable, as though he was already at home among the chaos. Alma managed a small smile as she turned to face him, hoping her nerves weren't obvious. "Just the usual jitters with the new session."

Larry raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her nonchalance. "Something more than that, I'd bet," he said, studying her. "But we can talk about it later. You know where to find me."

Grateful for his understanding, Alma quickly swapped out her books and closed her locker, joining Larry as they made their way to the library. He caught her up on his summer, which, as he described, had been both "good and weird," thanks to his parents' sudden push for him to finalize his college plans. His voice held an edge, a trace of something he was holding back, but before she could ask, the shrill sound of the bell cut through the air.

With a quick wave, he disappeared into the crowd, and Alma made her way to the library. The room was filled with the comforting smell of old books and polished wood, and she breathed it in deeply, feeling a sense of calm settle over her. The rest of the morning passed smoothly, but she couldn't shake a lingering sense of unease, a feeling that someone was watching her from the shadows.

And she was right.

At the end of the day, she returned to her locker, only to hear a voice behind her—a voice she hadn't heard in months but recognized instantly. "Hey, Alma. Avoiding me?"

She turned slowly, bracing herself for the sight of Grey Astrid leaning against the lockers, arms folded, his expression a mixture of amusement and something darker. His stormy blue eyes, framed by dark lashes, held her gaze, unrelenting. He wore that same smirk she both hated and couldn't resist. Somehow, he looked even more confident than before, as though the summer had only intensified his allure.

She met his gaze, a carefully guarded look on her face. "Longest time, Grey. I thought I made myself clear. Whatever happened between us... it's over."

"Now, where's the fun in that?" he replied, his voice low and smooth, a subtle challenge woven into his words.

Her heart thudded loudly as he stepped closer, the scent of his cologne bringing back memories she'd spent all summer trying to bury. She clenched her fists, determined not to let him see how much he affected her. "Look, Grey, we agreed to keep things simple, and that's exactly what I'm doing. I've moved on, and I'd appreciate it if you did too."

"Simple?" He laughed softly, tilting his head as he studied her. The sound sent a shiver down her spine. "We did more than talk, Alma. Or did you forget?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, refusing to let him bait her. "For the record, I have a life outside of... whatever that was. You calling me Alma isn't helping."

Grey's gaze softened, a hint of something real flashing in his eyes before he masked it with another smirk. "Fine. But we need to talk. You know it as much as I do."

Her resolve wavered, just slightly. She'd heard those words before, words that had once held weight, but now felt more like empty promises. She took a deep breath, barely managing a nod. "Fine. But this stays... simple. I don't want to be caught up in your world again."

With that, she turned and walked away, not daring to look back. She didn't need to see his face to know he'd be watching her until she disappeared from sight.

Ashley Key sat on the hood of her cherry-red sports car in the parking lot, her polished fingernails tapping against the metal as she watched the entrance with hawk-like precision. It didn't take long for Grey to appear, and as soon as he did, she plastered on a smile, one carefully rehearsed to be both alluring and innocent. "Grey," she called, waving him over.

He approached, his expression unreadable. "Hey, what are you still doing here? School's been out for hours."

Ashley leaned back, crossing her arms as she tried to appear casual. "Oh, you know... I thought we could talk about last night."

Grey's jaw tightened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Ashley, last night was a mistake. I'd had too much to drink, and I said some things I shouldn't have."

Her face fell, but she masked it quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a sigh. "Well, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me. I'm... not as shallow as people think."

Grey softened slightly, offering a nod. "Thanks, Ash. But I'm dealing with some stuff right now. It's complicated."

With that, he walked away, leaving Ashley alone, her forced smile fading as she watched him go.

Later that night, Alma lay in bed, her room bathed in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. Ariana Grande's voice crooned softly in the background, the lyrics resonating with her more than she wanted to admit. She couldn't shake the feeling of Grey's presence, the memories he'd dredged up like ghosts from a past she'd tried so hard to leave behind. Every corner of her room held a piece of him—a memory of laughter, a lingering touch, whispered secrets.

A soft knock on her door broke the silence, and her mother peeked in, offering a gentle smile. "Honey, mind if I join you?"

Alma rolled her eyes, but she moved over to make space. Her mother had a way of sensing her mood, of knowing when she was ready to break. As they sat in comfortable silence, Alma finally spoke. "Mom, do you think love can ever really be simple?"

Emma sighed, wrapping an arm around her daughter. "Oh, sweetheart. Love is never simple. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth it."

Alma's heart tightened as she thought of Grey, of all the heartbreak and the desire and the confusion. She wanted to believe her mother's words, but part of her knew that love, especially with someone like him, could only lead to more pain.

But despite everything, she wasn't sure she could walk away.