AVA'S POV
Being a good girl is exhausting. Pretending to care when every inch of me wants to tear things apart. Smile. Nod. Be polite. Be sweet. God, it makes me sick.
From the corner of my eye, Haneul, the school's good girl tucks a strand of hair behind her ear when Jaehoon, the school's bad boy, passes by the classroom and winks at her. I grit my teeth and tighten my grip around the pen I'm holding, the plastic creaking under the pressure.
Haneul. Perfect Haneul.
She bats her eyelashes and gives him a shy smile, all innocence and blushes, like she doesn't know exactly what she's doing. She does. She's the kind of girl they all fawn over, the type people love to protect. She's soft where I'm sharp, delicate where I'm destructive. And I can't stand it.
I watch Jaehoon smirk, his gaze lingering on her just a little too long, and something ugly stirs in my chest. He's predictable—of course he'd go for the obvious choice. The girl who plays by the rules. The girl who makes him feel like a god just by looking at him like that. I roll my eyes, fighting the bitter taste in my mouth.
I hate how cliché this is—the bad boy falling for the good girl, living happily ever after until the credits roll. It's always the same. He's the misunderstood rebel with a tragic backstory, she's the angel sent to redeem him with her pure heart and doe-eyed naivety. They'll probably ride off into the sunset on his motorcycle, her arms wrapped around his waist like she's the only thing keeping him from spiraling into oblivion.
I roll my eyes so hard I might actually see the back of my skull. But it's not their unoriginal story that's frustrating me, no. It's the fact that I'm attracted to Jaehoon, to the way he smirks like he knows all the rules but has no intention of following them. The way his confidence drips off him, casual and reckless, like he owns every room he walks into without even trying. It's infuriating.
I hate that I notice him. That my pulse quickens when he's around. That despite how much I despise these tired tropes, I find myself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. A flame I know will burn me alive, and yet... here I am, hovering way too close. It's embarrassing, really.
I glance at him again, his messy hair falling into his eyes as he leans back in his chair, completely unconcerned with anything or anyone around him. Of course. Why would he care? He has the attention of every girl within a ten-mile radius without even lifting a finger. Including mine. Pathetic.
"Want me to take care of her?" Aera, minion number one, says from beside me, twirling a strand of her hair like she's doing something important.
I blink at her, the question snapping me out of my ridiculous internal spiral. Take care of her? God, the drama. It almost feels like I'm living in some low-budget teen movie where I'm the villain, and Haneul's the golden girl everyone is rooting for.
"No," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think we can spare her life for now. Maybe I'll send a fruit basket instead."
Aera giggles, and it grates on my nerves. She always laughs at my sarcasm like I'm being serious, like she actually expects me to sic her on people like a little attack dog. It's cute, in an annoying way, how much she wants to be a part of my world. But I don't need people fighting my battles. I fight my own.
"Ava loves playing the long game," Jihoon, minion number two, chimes in with a cheeky grin, as if she's just figured out the secret to life. "You'll wait until she's in a vulnerable position, then strike. It's classic." The way she thinks she knows me well is... cute. Pitiful, but cute.
"You know me so well," I reply, sarcasm practically dripping off every word. Jihoon smiles like she's just won an award for 'Best Insight into Ava's Mind,' which—spoiler alert—she hasn't. But hey, I appreciate the enthusiasm. Gold star for trying.
