To Be Your Curse

Chapter 29: Out of Place

I hadn't noticed until today how Jayden and Cassiel complimented each other-their height, the way they dressed, even the contrasting energy they gave off. It wasn't just them, either.

Oliver complimented Maren, and Maren complimented Jayden. The way they all fit together, it was almost unnerving. It wasn't just their personalities that meshed perfectly; it was in their looks, too.

They were all undeniably eye-catching. Every move they made, every word they spoke, even the way they dressed radiated confidence. They had this aura that was hard to ignore, like they belonged on the cover of a magazine. The best part? They each had a unique aesthetic, but there was one thing they shared-they all screamed money.

Attending a top-tier university, it was obvious that most people here came from either wealthy families, were geniuses, or had both. The school was flooded with rich kids, but wealth didn't automatically mean you had style.

Then there was me. I could barely piece together an outfit most days, despite my huge closet while Maren always looked like she walked straight out of a catalog. Her jewelry matched her outfit perfectly, her makeup flawless, her hair always sleek and neat.

And it wasn't just Maren. Cassiel's style was sharp and minimalistic, like he didn't need to try to look good. His clothes were crisp, clean lines that made him seem even more distant, he looked and acted out of reach.

Jayden, on the other hand, dressed with more flair-he wasn't doing too much but still somehow managing to style himself in a way to set him apart from others. He could choose the dress classy or casual it didn't matter, he still somehow stood out. Where Cassiel was sleek, Jayden was bold, and yet they both radiated that same "old money" vibe, just in different ways.

Oliver? He was a little more laid-back, but still put together in a way that suggested he didn't need to impress anyone. His skin was flawless and his clothes too. I wouldn't say he spent too much time caring how he matched his clothes. The things he wore always looked comfortable, yet expensive, like he could casually throw on a sweater with a cost that matched the average school's tuition fees.

For a moment, I wondered if they all coordinated, like they agreed to project this image together. They complemented each other so perfectly it almost felt like they did. And then there was me-feeling completely out of place, swimming in my thoughts, wondering how I could ever fit into their world cause fuck I really want to.

"That snake," Oliver's voice sliced through my thoughts like a sharp blade. We rounded a corner, the scent of sizzling hot dogs wafting from the nearby stand. "I thought we agreed to approach Cassiel together."

"In his defense, you were the only one who voted for that," I replied, glancing at him before refocusing on our path, the pavement rough beneath our sneakers.

"Yeah, to be honest," Maren chimed in, her brow furrowed in thought as she recalled the votes. "We had a different plan. It would've felt weird if we all ganged up on him." She shrugged, her cheeks still flushed from our earlier encounter. "He might have gotten uncomfortable."

"He looked really comfortable with Jayden earlier." I interjected, pointing out the obvious.

"He looked a lot of things, Aaliyah," Oliver corrected with a playful smile, as if it was vital to set the record straight. I let out a soft sigh, returning his grin as we finally arrived at the hot dog stand, the sounds of sizzling and chatter surrounding us.

"I wonder how he's doing," Maren said, her voice softer now, drifting away from us. It was clear she fully with us, part of her was still in the hallway, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

"Bet he's having the time of his life," Oliver replied, his tone tinged with a playful bitterness.

"She's asking about Cassiel, not Jayden, Oliver," I corrected him, relishing the chance to turn the tables. I grinned as he rolled his eyes, standing beside me while Maren lingered slightly ahead, lost in her thoughts.