My Naughty Lover ✔️

Chapter 2

~Never judge a book by its cover

(Scarlette’s POV)

"Alright, class. Open your math books to page thirty-one and begin working on the trigonometric expressions," Mr. Sipek says as he adjusts his thick glasses.

I already have mine out. There’s a strange comfort in numbers — they follow rules, they make sense. Unlike most people I know.

I’ve just started working on the first question when a small, crumpled paper lands on my desk. My eyes narrow.

I glance behind me — and there he is.

That same guy from this morning. Slouched in his chair, a faint smirk on his lips, like he’s enjoying this more than he should.

I look away.

A few minutes later, another paper hits my table.

Seriously?

I exhale, trying to stay calm. “What?” I whisper, half-turning toward him.

He chuckles. “Read it.”

I hesitate. Curiosity gets the better of me. I open it.

> Sorry about this morning.

I stare for a second. Surprised.

Before I can process it, he leans in slightly. “Check the back.”

I flip the note over.

> *But your grandma’s clothes suit you pretty well :) *

My face burns. I feel the embarrassment crawl up my neck and into my chest. Of course. It wasn’t an apology — it was a setup.

I press my lips together tightly and keep my eyes forward. He laughs quietly behind me. I should’ve known better.

Why does he even care how I dress?

I glance at my cardigan and skirt — they’re not flashy, not trendy, but they’re clean and modest. Still, somehow, they make me a target.

---

When the bell rings for lunch, I gather my things without looking back and head out of the classroom fast.

The hallway buzzes with voices and footsteps. I’m halfway to the cafeteria when I bump into someone. Hard.

“Watch it, Grandma,” the girl snaps.

I look up — red curls, perfect skin, sharp glare.

“I—I’m sorry,” I mutter, shrinking inward.

She doesn’t stop. “Maybe get your eyes checked. You look like you stole your clothes from a retirement home.”

The words sting, worse than they should. I clench my fists and duck my head.

I turn sharply and head to the nearest bathroom instead of the cafeteria. Once inside, I lock myself in a stall and let the tears fall freely. I try to be strong, but this morning has chipped away at everything I’ve built to protect myself.

Why does everyone have something to say about me? My clothes? My face? My existence?

I want to disappear.

“Hey… are you okay?”

I freeze at the voice outside the stall. I sniff quickly and wipe my face before unlocking the door.

A girl stands there, leaning against the sink. She watches me — not with judgment, but genuine concern.

I force a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She tilts her head slightly, clearly not buying it, but she lets it go.

“I’m Kat, by the way.”

I hesitate, then reply, “Scarlette.”

“Nice to meet you, Scarlette,” she says softly. “You eaten anything yet?”

I shake my head.

“Well, come on then. I’m starving, and I don’t really feel like sitting alone today.”

I stare at her for a second. “You sure?”

Kat nods. “Let’s go.”

---

In the cafeteria, we grab our trays and navigate through the crowd. I follow Kat as she weaves to a table in the back where two people are already sitting — a guy with blond hair and a warm smile, and a girl lost in her music, earbuds in, blue streaks in her hair.

Kat sets her tray down. “Hey guys.”

“Hey, Kat,” the blond guy greets. Then he looks at me. “And you are?”

“I’m Scarlette,” I say, still a little hesitant.

“Zayn,” he replies, and his smile is easy, genuine.

Kat gestures at the other girl. “That’s Sarah. She’s probably not listening.”

Sarah glances up at that moment, pulls out one earbud, and looks at me with those piercing brown eyes.

“I heard you. I’m not deaf,” she says dryly. “Hey. I’m Sarah.”

“Hi. Scarlette,” I say again, a little awkwardly.

Zayn studies me for a beat. “You okay?”

I look down at my tray, heart jumping. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Kat snorts. “She was crying in the bathroom.”

I freeze, eyes wide.

Zayn frowns. “What happened?”

“Just… people being people,” I mumble, embarrassed. I feel like I’ve been cracked open in front of strangers.

“Well, screw them,” Sarah says, reaching over to steal a fry from Zayn. “People suck.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Kat adds quickly. “But if you ever do — we’re here.”

Zayn nods. “Yeah. You’re safe with us.”

I swallow hard. My throat tightens for a different reason now. There’s something honest about the way they say it. No judgment. No pressure.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I mean it.”

And for the first time today, I actually feel seen — not in the painful way, but in the way that says maybe I’m not as alone as I thought.

We chat a little more as we eat. They’re funny. Kind. Strange in the best way.

When the bell rings, we all go our separate ways, but something stays with me.

Maybe not everything — or everyone — in this school is as cruel as it seems.