Monday mornings were usually the worst. The blaring sound of Mia's alarm jolted her awake, and as she groggily reached for her phone, the memories of Dylan's party crept into her mind like a slow reel of awkward highlights. She sighed, burying her face in her pillow.
She replayed the moment on the back porch—Dylan, for once, showing a side that wasn't just the cocky basketball star. He had seemed...real. Vulnerable, even. But what did it mean? Probably nothing. People had vulnerable moments all the time; it didn't make them friends.
At least she had survived the party, right?
By the time Mia made it to school, the hallways were already buzzing with energy. Students huddled in clusters, sharing their weekend stories. Mia kept her head down, hoping to blend in and avoid any lingering questions about her uncharacteristic appearance at the Westwood party.
But as she approached her locker, she noticed something unusual. People weren't just whispering—they were staring at her.
"Mia, hey!" Claire burst through the crowd like a human bulldozer, gripping Mia by the arm and dragging her to a quieter corner of the hallway.
"What is going on?" Mia hissed, glancing nervously at the students who continued to steal glances in her direction.
Claire's eyes were wide, practically glowing with excitement. "Oh, you don't know?"
"Know what?"
Claire leaned in conspiratorially. "There's a rumor going around that you and Dylan Westwood are...a thing."
Mia blinked. "What?"
"You were seen talking to him—alone—at his party. On the back porch. It's all anyone's been talking about since this morning."
"That's ridiculous," Mia said, her voice rising slightly. "We just...talked. That's it. How is that newsworthy?"
Claire shrugged. "It's Dylan. Anything he does is newsworthy. And the fact that he chose to talk to you, of all people, has people freaking out."
Mia groaned, leaning her head against the cold metal of her locker. "This is exactly why I didn't want to go to that party."
"Hey, look on the bright side," Claire said, nudging Mia's shoulder. "This could be your moment. Ride the wave of popularity!"
Mia shot her a look. "Yeah, no thanks. I'm perfectly fine staying under the radar."
Unfortunately, staying under the radar wasn't an option anymore.
Throughout the day, Mia felt the weight of curious eyes on her wherever she went. People she barely knew were suddenly striking up conversations with her, fishing for details about her "relationship" with Dylan. She did her best to brush it off, but the whispers followed her like a shadow.
By the time lunch rolled around, Mia was exhausted. She grabbed her tray and scanned the cafeteria for a quiet corner, but before she could make her escape, a familiar voice called out.
"Mia!"
Her stomach sank. She turned to see Dylan standing by the basketball team's table, waving her over.
Oh no.
The entire cafeteria went silent as Mia reluctantly walked toward him. She could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on her, judging, speculating.
Dylan grinned as she approached, completely unfazed by the attention. "Hey, mind if I sit with you for a minute?"
"You...want to sit with me?" she asked, incredulous.
He nodded. "Yeah, why not?" Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his tray and sat across from her at an empty table.
The whispers started immediately.
Mia stared at him, her face burning. "What are you doing?"
"Having lunch," he said casually, biting into an apple.
"You have your own table," she pointed out.
"Yeah, but it gets boring over there sometimes."
Mia narrowed her eyes. "Is this your way of messing with me?"
Dylan chuckled. "Relax, Anderson. I'm not messing with you. Can't a guy just want a little peace and quiet?"
Peace and quiet? In the middle of a cafeteria filled with gossip-hungry teenagers? Yeah, right.
"Look," she said, lowering her voice, "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I really don't want to be part of whatever drama this is."
Dylan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "You really don't care about all this, do you?"
"All what?"
"The attention. The rumors. Most people would kill to have everyone talking about them."
"Well, I'm not most people," Mia snapped.
Dylan smiled, but it wasn't his usual cocky grin. It was softer, almost...admiring?
"Fair enough," he said, standing up and grabbing his tray. "See you around, Anderson."
As he walked away, Mia felt a mix of relief and confusion. What was his deal?
Claire swooped in moments later, practically vibrating with excitement. "Mia, what was that?"
"I have no idea," Mia admitted, rubbing her temples.
"Well, whatever it was, it just solidified your status as the most talked-about person in school."
"Great," Mia muttered. "Exactly what I wanted."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of awkward encounters and whispered conversations. By the time the final bell rang, Mia was ready to crawl into bed and pretend the day had never happened.
As she walked to her locker to grab her things, she found a folded piece of paper tucked into the slats. She unfolded it, her heart sinking as she read the note inside.
Meet me on the basketball court after school. –Dylan
Mia stared at the note, her mind racing. What could he possibly want now?
Against her better judgment, she found herself heading toward the basketball court after school. When she arrived, Dylan was already there, casually dribbling a basketball.
"You came," he said, looking up and flashing her a grin.
"Yeah, well, I figured I might as well find out what you want so I can get back to my life," Mia said, crossing her arms.
Dylan stopped dribbling and looked at her, his expression more serious than she'd ever seen it.
"I just wanted to say thanks," he said.
Mia blinked. "Thanks? For what?"
"For listening. At the party. I don't usually...talk to people like that. But you didn't judge me or try to fix me. You just...listened. It meant a lot."
Mia didn't know what to say. Dylan Westwood, the school's golden boy, was thanking her?
"You're welcome," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dylan smiled again, but this time it was different. It wasn't the cocky grin or the charming smirk. It was genuine.
"See you around, Anderson," he said, turning and walking away.
Mia stood there for a long moment, staring after him. She didn't know what had just happened, but one thing was clear—her life was never going to be the same.