To Chloe,

Every time I draw my pen gets stuck on the paper and nothing works out. It's not like it was before when I could just draw on whatever happy memories I wanted to inspire me. I'm alone now.

And don't get me started on makeup. I can't even look at myself anymore, let alone my face. I'm still so ashamed of what happened.

Sorry for the depressing letter. I'll liven up next time.

Monica.

A yellow envelope was passed beneath the table, from Maddy's ocean blue stiletto nails to my pale pink ones. How she was so well acquainted with someone that she could have a fake ID delivered within four days had me in awe.

After lunch, I retreated to my locker. Shielded by the door, I tore it open and the plastic card slid into my palm. Chloe Whittaker. Born in 1995. Twenty-one years of age. The picture, which Maddy had taken against a white wall in her home, had me looking intently at the camera. I almost looked cold, my lips pressed into a thin line, my eyes coated in liner, daring someone to challenge me.

"What are you looking at?" William's voice rang smoothly from my side.

I looked around us to make sure nobody was paying attention before slipping the card into his hand. "Maddy got it for me. For tomorrow"

"Nice," he said. "You look terrifying."

I scowled at him. "Thanks."

"And you look terrifying now." He chuckled, leaning against the locker beside me.

"You're in a good mood," I noted. William had walked the halls of Arlington like a storm cloud all week. His recent drop from the lacrosse team had gone unspoken between level one, but was the latest gossip down the streams of the other levels. Even I had steered clear of anything that could set him off.

"It's Friday," he said sardonically, his expression showing that he was still pissed. "And I don't have to see a smug looking Francis for two whole days."

"Friday couldn't have come sooner," I agreed, thinking of all the moments I'd been stared down by the intimidating gazes of Sophie, Lola or Li. I swear, by the time I had anything solid to use on my list, William and I would be demoted from our level one status anyway.

"I'll see you here after school, yeah?" he said, his gaze flickering to the clock on the wall. His voice dropped low enough so that only I could hear. "For the grand farewell of the day."

"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes before slipping the ID into my purse. Our public relationship was going great in terms of our routine. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying the human contact. Some days our parting hug was the only nice thing to happen all day.

When William had said he'd see me after school, I expected that he meant the place he usually did, where he'd be leant against the wall by the parking lot each afternoon with a charming smile spread across his face.

I didn't, however, expect that he meant in one of Arlington's high walled stone corridors with a crowd of people clustered around him, all huddled under a blanket of silence. I cursed myself for not wearing taller heels, I couldn't see what was causing the commotion. I had to sift through the students, who didn't seem to notice me as I pushed and shoved my way to the front.

I was just in time to see the first punch. And it had come from the hand of my fake boyfriend.

The whack of knuckles against nose was still echoing through the air as the blood started dripping down the nose of Francis Greene, his eyes simmering with a fury I'd never imagined a human could hold. This was not good.

Well, not for William at least. I had to admit seeing Francis slightly crouched over, the corner of his eye already swelling along with his previously-perfect nose, was a little satisfying. A lot satisfying. But then he straightened and lunged towards William, his hands colliding with his cheek.

"You son of a bitch!" Francis yelled, pushing William back until he hit the stone wall.

But, before Francis could gain any leverage, Will shoved him with a force so great that he almost stumbled, blood dripping from his nose and onto the tiled floor. And then he punched him again. God, if William kept going he was going to get expelled from the school, not just the lacrosse team.

And everyone was looking at me as if I was supposed to do something.

Bracing myself, I realized they were probably right. I stepped forward, adrenaline sparking me to almost throw myself between them. But, instead of getting myself caught in the middle, I diverted, throwing my arms over William's shoulders and yanking him away with all of my might.

"Stop!" I said firmly. "He is not worth getting kicked out of school for!"

William was panting, a red mark swelling on his cheekbone as his green gaze pierced Francis' over my shoulder. His look was chilling, I had never seen him despise someone so much.

"You start on me and then get your pretty little girlfriend to defend you," Francis spat from behind me. "That's not how this works, you asshole."

"Like you have any qualms about hitting girls too," I said with venom, knowing he wouldn't dare touch me in front of the student body. His eyes locked on me with fury, but with William beside me I didn't feel scared. In that moment, I wasn't considering the mess or the complexities of level one, I was considering the sheer testosterone running through the boys on either side of me, and the simmering hate I had for one.

I looked to William, who was still staring at Francis with so much disgust it rattled me.

"Let's go," I said. "Before a teacher sees this."

I tugged at his arm, glad that we were in what was usually a quieter end of campus, despite the hefty crowd that had gathered at the drama. I couldn't see any school staff around us yet, but I knew a gathering like this would spark attention.

As soon as we were out of ear shot I turned to him. "What were you thinking? I had no idea you could be so stupid!"

"He's—" William started saying, but his breath caught and I could sense the rage projecting out of him. "He deserved it."

"What happened?" I asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody had followed us. Then I saw the refuge of a half open classroom door and pushed him towards it so we could be out of sight altogether.

"He was saying shit about you, Chlo, in front of everyone. And on top of all of this lacrosse bullshit... I don't know. I snapped. And no, I don't regret it," he said, supporting his weight on a desk once I'd shut the door behind us.

"And whatever he said was probably designed to stir you up," I said, still pissed at him for falling prey to whatever Francis had used as bait. "You do realize that you'll probably be suspended for this when someone tells a teacher. And level one are undoubtedly going to shun you."

"Is being with them all that matters with you?" he asked, his hand running over his jaw.

"You know it's not like that," I said, my teeth clenched.

"What's it like then?"

"Monica is all that matters to me," I said firmly. I crossed my arms over my chest and let out a breath. "God, I had no idea you were the kind of guy to throw punches."

William laughed darkly. "I'm not."

"Then what happened?"

Will looked down, his hair falling over his forehead a little as he ran a finger lightly over his reddened knuckles. "I've just been saving that punch for a while. Let's just say it was overdue anyway."

I paced the short space in front of him, half worried that if I strayed too far away then he'd run back out there and finish what he'd started. The way his posture was tense and his eyes were wild told me that physically attacking Francis was still on his mind. "Well, I wouldn't say he didn't deserve it."

A half smile rose to his lips, and he looked up at me, those eyes which had been so filled with hate softening slightly. "So now you agree with me."

"No," I said. "Violence is never the answer. And to be honest, seeing you hit him was kind of scary."

"Still don't feel bad about it," he said. His cheek was swelling now, turning into a bruise. It looked like the force had caused a shallow gash.

"You know you probably won't get back onto that team," I said softly, my concern for him growing. That punch symbolized a lot more than his hate for Francis, it was also the deciding factor for his fate. It was senior year, and this would definitely be going on his record.

"Francis wouldn't have opened up that position again anyway," he said. Then he sighed. "He's pissed off because his girlfriend will never love him."

"How could anybody love him?" I asked, taking a seat on the desk beside him.

"I don't know. Sometimes it just happens, though, there's more to things than your mind can control, Chloe," he said.

"Always speaking words of wisdom," I said before pursing my lips. "Your cheek is starting to bleed."

Will instinctively lifted a finger to the wound on his cheekbone, his hand withdrawing covered with scarlet. "Shit."

I stood up and walked towards the teacher's desk at the front of the room, grabbing a box of tissues and taking a handful. The cut was now oozing from his touch, and I handed him one for his fingers before standing in front of him, carefully lifting his chin.

Gently, I pressed a folded tissue against his cheek, careful not to apply too much pressure. Will didn't wince, or pull away in discomfort. Instead, he sat still, his eyes watching me as I tried my best to stop the bleeding. "I kind of expected you to be one of those germaphobes who freaked out at blood."

I scoffed. "You clearly don't know me very well."

"Well, you're very unpredictable," he murmured.

"Maddy said I was easy to read the other day," I mused.

"That's probably just because you're a good actor. To them, you look like any other girl desperate to make friends with them."

"I'll take that as a good thing then," I said.

"But I get to see the real Chloe Whittaker," he went on. "The one who doesn't have to pretend to be someone she's not."

I raised an eyebrow, figuring that joking around could lighten the hammering in my chest. It was taking almost every piece of my attention to control the physical reactions igniting within my body. His face was so close to mine.

He was clearly still high on the adrenaline from the fight, speaking things he'd never normally say. "Maybe I'm pretending right now."

"I don't think so," he said. We were quiet for a moment, and then he spoke again. "How did someone like you get caught up with Monica?"

I gave a small smile. "We just fit."

I didn't realize that I'd stopped dabbing at his cheek. My mind was now far away, sitting beside Monica on her leather sofa. His hand wrapped around my forearm, lowering it from the position it had been hovering at by his face.

"You are a very complicated girl, Chloe Whittaker," he said, his gaze showing more fondness than questions as he smiled. He was still holding my arm so warmly and gently that it almost made my chest split in two.

In the dimly lit room, with his face so close to mine and his expression conveying so much more emotion than it should have, all I could think about were his lips on mine, and how easy it would be to rekindle that connection. To feel that closeness my insides yearned for. There's more to things than your mind can control. That might be right, but falling for William Bishop wasn't one of them.

I pulled my arm from him, and turned away, unable to form the words I wished I could. I hate that you do this to me. I hate that I feel so out of control. I hate that I don't hate you.

"I need to go," I said, a lump heavy in my throat. And then I mumbled the first excuse I could find. "Maddy wants to drop me home so she can see what I'm wearing tomorrow. Please don't hit Francis again while I'm gone."

And then, before I could look at him again and lose control of my senses I turned away, leaving the room. Maybe a weekend free of William Bishop was exactly what I needed, before I fell in too deep.

Don't you love it when a chapter does a complete one-eighty to what you plan? Because that's what this is. Dedicated to @wintryflames for your entertaining commentary, I love reading your comments 💕

Question: which has been your favourite/the most memorable scene so far?