A story unravels, following two distinct friend groups: one embodying the virtues of loyalty, trust, and friendship-the so-called "good" group; the other steeped in manipulation, rebellion, and chaos-the "bad" group.
As their final school year progr...
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*The Mia Culpa picture on top represents the scene between Aiden and Ada so well!*
__ ADA LOVE __
Parties are supposed to be fun. That's what they always say. But right now, my heart was pounding in my chest, and my hands were shaking as I stormed away, pushing past the sweaty bodies and thumping bass. I couldn't breathe.
Ares Emerson kissed me.
The stupid girl. The loud, awkward girl. Me. He kissed me. The most perfect guy, the guy every girl wanted.
But I knew. Deep down, I knew why he did it.
It wasn't because he wanted to. It was because he felt embarrassed for me. Pity. My first kiss, and it was nothing more than a way to spare me the humiliation of being the girl nobody wanted to kiss. My first kiss, and it wasn't even real. It was charity.
The worst part? That wasn't even the most crushing blow of the night.
I forced myself back into the living room, back to the noise, the heat, the laughter I could never truly join. The rainbow lights flickered across my vision, blinding me as I tried to blend back in with the crowd. But then I saw it.
My heart stopped.
There, in the middle of the room, tangled up in each other like they were made for it, was Ares. And Lizzie Rosewood.
While Lizzie's friends and my friends watched them kiss on the couch.
Lizzie Rosewood—the girl who had everything I didn't. She was beautiful, confident, perfect. Everything about her screamed effortless, like she was born for moments like this. And Ares was kissing her. The same lips that had been on mine not even five minutes ago were now on hers.
I stood frozen, watching as he kissed her with a kind of ease, like that was where he belonged. With someone like her. Not me.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, pressing a hand flat against my stomach as if I could hold the nausea down. I felt like I was going to throw up right there, in front of everyone.
I was a joke. A nightmare. So easily replaced.
How stupid had I been to think, even for a second, that maybe Ares kissed me because he wanted to? Because I meant something to him? But no. It was just a formality, a way to save me from public embarrassment. And now, with Lizzie in his arms, he could wash away the mistake of kissing me.
I was the mistake. The ugly, replaceable mistake.
Everything was just a game to people like him. In our school, the rules were clear: from one girl to the next, from one party to another, you kissed, you moved on. I didn't blame Ares. He should kiss girls like Lizzie—gorgeous, popular, flawless. I didn't fit in that world.
