Aria’s POV

The bell above the heavy door of Northridge High rang with a metallic screech, signaling the end of third period.

The hallway exploded into a chaos of slamming locker doors, shouting teenagers, and the heavy smell of damp winter coats and floor wax. I navigated through the crowd with my head down, my shoulder bag heavy against my ribs, keeping my eyes fixed on the scuffed floor tile.

Fake hatred. That was the rule.

I rounded the corner near the gym lockers and saw Cole standing by his locker. He was wearing his black team hoodie, his dark hair messy, looking terrifyingly broad against the narrow metal lockers....