By the time Mia walked into school the next morning, the soda incident had already spread like wildfire. Whispers followed her down the hallway, punctuated by poorly concealed giggles and the occasional "Did you hear what she did?"
Mia tried to keep her head down, gripping the straps of her backpack like a lifeline. It wasn't like she hadn't been the center of gossip before, but this felt different. This wasn't just a stupid mistake; it was a mistake involving Dylan Westwood, the school's unofficial king.
"You're practically famous now," Lila said as they reached Mia's locker.
Mia shot her a look. "Yeah, famous for being a total klutz."
"Come on, it's not that bad," Lila said, leaning against the locker beside Mia's. "At least people know who you are now. You're, like, relevant."
"I don't want to be relevant, Lila. I want to go back to being invisible."
"Too late for that," Lila said with a smirk. "You've officially entered the Dylan Westwood Cinematic Universe."
Mia groaned, pulling out her textbooks and trying to ignore the curious stares from nearby students. "I just hope he forgets about it. I don't need him holding a grudge."
"Grudge? Please. Guys like Dylan don't hold grudges. They just... exist in their perfect little bubbles and move on."
Mia wasn't so sure. She hadn't been able to stop replaying the look on his face—annoyed, yes, but also unreadable. What if he was mad? What if he told the entire basketball team about it, and they all decided to make her life miserable?
"Don't overthink it," Lila said, as if reading her mind. "Just act normal, and this whole thing will blow over."
But acting normal was easier said than done. Especially when Mia walked into her third-period history class and saw Dylan sitting in the back row.
Her stomach dropped. She'd completely forgotten he was in this class.
"Mia, over here!" called Sara, a classmate she occasionally worked with on group projects.
Mia hesitated. The only open seat near Sara was directly in front of Dylan.
"Great," she muttered under her breath as she made her way to the seat.
She could feel Dylan's eyes on her as she sat down, but she refused to turn around. Instead, she focused on pulling out her notebook and pretending to be deeply interested in the blank page in front of her.
Class started, and for a while, Mia managed to lose herself in Mr. Harris's lecture on the American Revolution. But halfway through, she felt something tap her shoulder.
She froze. Slowly, she turned around.
It was Dylan.
"Hey," he said, holding out a folded piece of paper.
Mia blinked. "What's this?"
"Just read it," he said, his expression unreadable.
Heart pounding, Mia took the note and unfolded it under her desk.
The handwriting was surprisingly neat.
"Meet me after class. We need to talk."
Mia stared at the note, her mind racing. What could he possibly want to talk about? Was he still mad? Was he going to humiliate her in front of everyone?
By the time the bell rang, Mia was a nervous wreck. She stayed in her seat as the rest of the class filed out, glancing back at Dylan, who was casually packing up his things like this was no big deal.
"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door.
Mia hesitated, then grabbed her bag and followed him into the hallway.
They ended up in an empty corner near the vending machines. Dylan leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he looked at her.
"Look," he said, his tone surprisingly calm, "about yesterday..."
Mia braced herself.
"It wasn't a big deal," he continued. "I mean, yeah, it sucked, but it's not like you did it on purpose."
Mia blinked. "Wait, you're not mad?"
Dylan shrugged. "Nah. Stuff happens. I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, freaking out about it."
"Me? Freaking out? No, of course not," Mia lied, even as her heart continued to race.
He smirked, like he didn't believe her. "Good. 'Cause some of the guys were giving me crap about it, and I figured it'd be easier to just... clear the air."
"Oh. Right. Yeah, totally," Mia said, nodding like an idiot.
For a moment, there was an awkward silence. Dylan glanced at the vending machine, then back at her.
"So... we're cool?" he asked.
"Cool," Mia said quickly.
"Great," he said, pushing off the wall. "See you around, Anderson."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Mia standing there, her mind spinning.
When Mia found Lila later that afternoon, she practically collapsed into the seat beside her.
"You're not going to believe this," Mia said.
"What?" Lila asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Dylan Westwood... talked to me. Like, actually talked to me."
Lila gasped, leaning forward like Mia had just revealed the secret to eternal life. "No way. What did he say? Did he ask you out? Did he apologize? Wait, did he flirt with you?"
"No, nothing like that," Mia said, rolling her eyes. "He just wanted to make sure I wasn't freaking out about the whole soda thing."
"That's basically flirting," Lila said with a grin.
"It's not flirting!"
"Whatever you say," Lila said, her grin widening. "But I'm telling you, Mia, this is how it starts. First, he talks to you. Then, he starts noticing you. And before you know it, you're the girl who tamed Dylan Westwood."
"Lila, you're insane," Mia said, though she couldn't help but smile.
Maybe Lila was insane. Or maybe she was onto something.
Either way, Mia couldn't deny that her life had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.