There are always mixed reactions to students returning after a long summer break. Some arrive glowing with excitement, eager to see their classmates. Others look weary, thinned out from whatever the summer threw at them. Then there are those who couldn't care less—just another day, another semester.

In fictional books, the female lead always comes back awkward, shy, dreading the thought of seeing her classmates. Meanwhile, the male lead? He's the golden boy. Handsome, athletic, effortlessly cool, with girls tripping over themselves to get his attention.

But this isn't a book.

I'm Akira Kurosawa, the queen of Lakewood College. Cheerleader for the school's basketball team, the East Lions. Top of my class. Pretty, confident, and trust me, the boys—and even some teachers—find me irresistible.

Let's talk about looks. Long black hair, sleek and glossy like the moon's reflection on water, a direct nod to my Japanese heritage. Almond-shaped eyes with an epicanthic fold? Check. A delicate nose, full cherry lips, and a round, glassy face that could make a painter weep? Yeah, I know what I bring to the table. And I'm not even capping.

My signature color? Oxblood. Nails, lipstick, jewelry, clothes—almost everything I wear carries that rich, deep shade. My walk is regal, my latest designer bag hanging effortlessly off my shoulder. Every few steps, someone waves or greets me, but I keep my pace steady, heading to my locker.

Then comes the voice.

"If it isn't the famous Kurosawa."

I don't even need to turn to know who it is. That rasping, tiny voice belongs to one person.

Petra.

I glance over my shoulder to find her standing there, blonde hair twisted into a tight bun, her makeup looking like a failed audition for a circus act.

I smirk. "Motherfucking Petra! I hate that I missed you, you little bitch."

She grins, and before either of us can say anything else, I pull her into a tight hug. Her perfume—roses and strawberries—fills my senses. Damn, she smells divine.

The hallway is a chaotic mess of students coming and going, but we don't care. Let them stare. This is my best friend, after all.

"How was your summer?" she asks as we finally pull apart.

I don't want to answer. My brain, however, is a traitor, throwing every miserable moment of my holiday right in my face. Instead of living my best life in Strasbourg, I was dragged to some tiny town in Japan, forced to revere traditions I couldn't care less about.

I flash a dazzling smile. "Honey, it was the best holiday ever."

More students pass by. Some get a polite smile, some get the death stare. And then there's her—the one girl who insists on competing with me in class. June. Brown hair, cat-eye glasses, books clutched to her chest. A nerd, but an annoyingly pretty one. Worse? She's actually smart.

I narrow my eyes at her. She meets my gaze head-on, unfazed.

Petra giggles, oblivious to my silent battle. "I went to Turin…"

I barely register her words. My attention is still on June, but Petra's voice snaps me back.

"…are you even listening?"

I shake off the distraction and refocus.

"Wow, Italy? That's amazing, you little—"

And then I see him.

David.

My boyfriend.

Six-foot-something, effortlessly cool, dressed in his customized basketball vest, a ball tucked under his arm. His hair is freshly cut, dyed, brushed to perfection, making him look straight out of a New York Times fashion spread.

Girls are staring. One even has the audacity to throw herself at him in a hug, flashing her too-white teeth. If murder were legal, I'd have snapped her neck already.

Petra waves a hand in my face. "Me little what?"

I don't answer.

David is right behind her now, and the grin that spreads across my lips is automatic.

"Hey, babe."

Petra ceases to exist as I turn my full attention to him. His friends are off to the side, flirting with a group of girls who always manage to get on my nerves.

David pulls me close, his lips meeting mine in a slow, deliberate kiss.

"Hey, hey, helloooo? Can you two get a fucking room?" Petra's voice slices through our moment.

I pull away, barely suppressing a smirk.

"See you later, Petra."

Ignoring her protests, I grab David's hand and let him lead me away. Right now, he's all that matters.