Ava

If there were an award for Most Likely to Be Forgotten at Westbridge High, I'd probably win it.

Not because people were mean.

Well.

Not always.

Mostly because I was easy to miss.

I wasn't a cheerleader with perfect hair and a thousand Instagram followers. I wasn't a volleyball star or class president or one of those people who somehow managed to look effortlessly attractive at seven-thirty in the morning.

I definitely wasn't TikTok famous.

I wasn't rich.

I wasn't popular.

And I certainly wasn't interesting enough for people to remember my name.

I was just Ava Martinez.

Average height.

Average grades.

Average life.

The kind of girl who blended into the background of every group photo.

The kind of girl teachers accidentally skipped during attendance.

Twice.

In the same class.

The girl who spent lunch hiding in the library between shelves of fantasy novels.

The girl who always had a book in her backpack.

The girl who would rather spend a Friday night reading about dragons and magic kingdoms than going to some loud party where everyone pretended to like each other.

Honestly?

I liked it that way.

Being invisible had advantages.

Nobody expected me to be extraordinary.

Nobody stared at me.

Nobody judged me.

Nobody cared if I had a bad hair day.

Or if my jeans were from the clearance rack.

Or if my sneakers were two years old.

Invisible was safe.

Comfortable.

Predictable.

At least until senior year decided to ruin everything.

"Ava!"

I looked up from my chemistry notes.

My best friend, Riley Bennett, came barreling through the cafeteria like a human tornado.

She nearly crashed into a freshman.

Apologized without slowing down.

Then slid into the seat across from me.

Her blonde ponytail was half falling out and her cheeks were bright red.

Not from embarrassment.

From rage.

Which was honestly more concerning.

"Good morning to you too," I said.

"It is not a good morning."

I slowly closed my notebook.

That tone never meant anything good.

"What happened?"

"The football team happened."

"Oh."

That explained everything.

Riley had been conducting a one-woman war against the football team for approximately three years.

Mostly because one of them accidentally hit her with a football during sophomore year.

She'd never forgiven them.

Not even a little.

"Which one?" I asked.

"All of them."

"Helpful."

"They parked their giant trucks across three student parking spaces."

I nodded thoughtfully.

"Monsters."

"Exactly."

I took a bite of my sandwich.

Across the cafeteria, a loud cheer erupted.

Half the room looked over.

I didn't.

I already knew.

Football players.

Every single time.

It was like they shared one brain cell.

Riley groaned dramatically.

"Speak of the devil."

Against my better judgment, I glanced up.

The football team's table sat in the center of the cafeteria like it owned the building.

Maybe the city.

Possibly the state.

They were loud.

Confident.

Laughing at everything.

Surrounded by people who seemed desperate for their attention.

And sitting directly in the middle—

Hudson Blake.

Unfortunately.

Even from thirty feet away, he stood out.

Six-foot-three.

Athletic.

Golden-blond hair that always somehow looked perfect.

Blue eyes.

A smile that probably had its own fan club.

The kind of guy who looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

Which was incredibly annoying.

Because he also knew it.

Captain of the football team.

Future college athlete.

Straight-A student.

Son of billionaire real-estate developer Nathan Blake.

Basically Westbridge High royalty.

The kind of person who never had to worry about scholarships or student loans or whether he'd get accepted into college.

People like Hudson Blake had entire futures handed to them before they were born.

Meanwhile, I spent half my time wondering if financial aid would save me.

Life was funny that way.

"You know," Riley said, following my gaze, "if arrogance were an Olympic event, he'd win gold."

I smirked.

"Silver."

She blinked.

"Silver?"

"His ego would get in the way."

Riley laughed so hard she nearly inhaled her juice box.

Worth it.

Across the cafeteria, Hudson threw his head back laughing at something one of his friends said.

Like he didn't have a care in the world.

Like everything came easy.

Like life was one long victory lap.

Maybe it was.

Our worlds couldn't have been more different.

I was invisible.

He was impossible to ignore.

I spent my weekends working at a bookstore.

He spent his time at football games and charity galas.

I worried about passing calculus.

He worried about which university was offering the best athletic scholarship.

We lived in completely different universes.

And that was fine.

Perfect, actually.

Because people like Hudson Blake never noticed people like me.

At least that's what I thought.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

By sixth period, I was already counting down the days until graduation.

Thirty-two.

Not that I was keeping track.

Okay.

I was absolutely keeping track.

Senior year felt weird.

Everyone kept acting like it was supposed to be magical.

The best year of your life.

The year you'd remember forever.

Personally?

I couldn't wait to leave.

College sounded amazing.

No cliques.

No popularity rankings.

No cafeteria politics.

No football worship.

No Hudson Blake.

A girl could dream.

The final bell rang.

Students flooded into the hallway.

Lockers slammed.

People shouted goodbye to friends.

Backpacks bumped into shoulders.

The usual chaos.

I adjusted my backpack strap and stepped into the crowd.

Big mistake.

Someone slammed into my shoulder.

My books flew from my arms.

"No, no, no—"

They hit the floor.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

I crouched down immediately.

A notebook slid several feet away.

Before I could grab it, another hand reached it first.

Long fingers.

Football-player-sized hand.

Definitely not mine.

My stomach dropped.

Please don't be—

I looked up.

And immediately regretted existing.

Hudson Blake.

Of course.

Because apparently the universe enjoyed bullying me personally.

He picked up my notebook.

For a second, he looked at the cover.

Then he held it out.

"Here."

I stared.

My brain completely short-circuited.

Hudson Blake was talking to me.

Directly.

Using words.

At my face.

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

Amusement flickered across his expression.

"Did I break you?"

Heat flooded my cheeks.

Fantastic.

Now I was blushing.

I grabbed the notebook.

"Thanks."

His smile widened.

And somehow looked different than the one he used around everyone else.

Less practiced.

More real.

"You're welcome."

Silence.

The awkward kind.

The painful kind.

The kind that makes you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

Then one of his teammates yelled from down the hallway.

"Blake!"

Hudson glanced over.

"Coming."

He looked back at me.

For a second.

Just a second.

Then he smiled again.

"See you around, Ava."

My brain stopped functioning.

Completely.

Because there was one tiny problem.

A very important problem.

Hudson Blake knew my name.

Not only knew it.

He'd said it.

Like he'd known it for a while.

Like it wasn't the first time he'd thought about me.

And as I stood there frozen in the middle of the hallway, watching him disappear into the crowd, one terrifying question kept repeating inside my head.

How?

Because I was certain I'd never introduced myself to Hudson Blake.

And somehow that realization felt like the beginning of a very, very bad idea.