I wasn't going to lie to myself — this whole thing was about to get a lot messier than I'd originally planned. It was supposed to be simple: Get Pierre's attention, snag a kiss, ride that wave straight to the top of Truman Woods High's food chain. Easy peasy, right?

Enter: Franklin Butt, the human embodiment of a pop quiz you didn't study for.

The second I shook hands with him, I knew I'd stepped into some seriously dangerous territory. And by "dangerous," I don't mean like, oops-I-forgot-my-math-homework dangerous. No, this was "oh-my-God-I-might-have-to-flirt-with-Ethyn-Moralez" dangerous. Which, in my world, was about as close to disaster as you could get.

Because Ethyn Moralez? The guy might as well have had "DO NOT APPROACH" tattooed across his forehead. He was one of those guys you only heard about in passing, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. Except, instead of living in a lake or a dark forest, he roamed the school halls in his leather jacket, brooding and exuding more danger than any high school student had a right to.

Of course, he was hot. The kind of hot that made even the teachers look a little flustered when he sauntered into class five minutes late, tossing his bag over his shoulder with an air of complete disinterest. But that didn't change the fact that I wanted to stay as far away from him as possible.

Which made the whole "make Ethyn kiss me, ask me out, and possibly—gulp—sleep with me" part of the bet a special kind of nightmare.

"Okay, so, just so we're clear," Fabian said, leaning casually against my locker, "you really plan on going after Ethyn? Like, the Ethyn Moralez?"

"I'm not going after him," I grumbled, shoving my math textbook into my backpack. "He's more of a... plan B. Like a backup if Pierre doesn't work out."

"Lee, he's not a plan B," Erin said flatly, appearing next to me with her usual disapproving expression. "Ethyn's like a plan Z. He's the option you only go for if you've exhausted every other option on the planet, including the janitor."

Fabian snorted. "Oh, I don't know. Janitor Bob has a certain rugged charm."

I shot him a look. "Not helping."

"Okay, look," Erin sighed, leaning against the locker next to me, "I know you're determined to win this bet, but you can't be serious about Ethyn. He's dangerous, Lee. I'm not exaggerating."

I zipped up my bag and turned to face her. "I know he's dangerous. That's why I'm focusing on Pierre. I'm just... keeping my options open."

Fabian raised an eyebrow. "Options? Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Yes," I said, glaring at him. "And besides, I don't even know how to approach Ethyn. It's not like he's the type to fall for small talk and casual flirting."

Erin gave me a pointed look. "Exactly. He's not the type for any of this. He's the type that shows up on a motorcycle, sweeps you off your feet, and then ghosts you three days later after you've given him your Netflix password."

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "I hate that you're right."

Erin shrugged. "I'm always right."

"True," Fabian added, nodding in agreement. "She did predict the demise of those cargo pants you insisted on wearing last year."

"That was fashion," I grumbled. "You two wouldn't understand."

"Listen, fashion victim," Erin said, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to face her, "I'm telling you this as your best friend: Stay. Away. From. Ethyn."

I sighed, feeling the weight of her words sink in. She wasn't wrong. Ethyn was a walking red flag. But Franklin's bet hung over me like a storm cloud, and the idea of letting him win — of backing down — just wasn't something I could stomach.

"I'll try," I muttered, knowing full well I was lying to myself.

Erin didn't look convinced, but before she could press me any further, the warning bell rang, signaling the start of third period.

"Great," I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Another thrilling session of 'Will Mr. Osei Let Me Sleep Through Biology Today.'"

"Good luck with that," Fabian said, giving me a mock salute as he headed off to his class. "And remember, no Ethyn-ing allowed."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile that crept onto my face. With Erin and Fabian at my side, at least I didn't have to face this madness alone.

I barely made it through biology without falling asleep, and by the time lunch rolled around, my brain was already fried. I grabbed a tray of whatever mystery meat the cafeteria was serving and found a seat near the back, hoping to avoid any more drama for the day.

But, of course, my life never worked like that.

Because there he was. Ethyn Moralez. Sitting at the far end of the cafeteria with his usual crowd of delinquent misfits, looking like he belonged in a scene from The Outsiders. Except this wasn't some 1960s gang. This was modern-day high school, where rebellion looked like skipping fourth period and hiding behind the bleachers to smoke.

I tried not to stare, but it was hard. Ethyn had that kind of presence that demanded attention, even if you didn't want to give it. The way he sat there, casually slouched in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed like he was above all of this. Like the rules of Truman Woods High didn't apply to him.

And then, as if sensing my gaze, he looked up. Our eyes met across the room, and for a split second, I forgot how to breathe.

Crap.

My brain went into overdrive. Look away! Look away! But, of course, I didn't. Because when you're trapped in the gaze of someone like Ethyn Moralez, looking away feels like surrender.

Instead, I did the dumbest thing possible. I waved.

What. Was. I. Doing?!

Ethyn raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my sudden act of friendliness. But then — and this is the part that really threw me — he smirked. A slow, lazy, devilish smirk that made my stomach flip in a way that was definitely not normal.

Great. Fantastic. Now he probably thought I was flirting with him. Which, to be fair, was technically part of the bet. But not now. Not like this.

I quickly dropped my hand, mentally cursing myself, and turned my attention back to my lunch. Maybe if I ignored him, he'd forget I existed. Yeah. That was the plan. Pretend he doesn't exist. Problem solved.

Except, a few minutes later, I felt someone slide into the seat across from me.

"You're in over your head, you know that?"

I nearly choked on my water. Ethyn. Sitting right across from me. Talking to me. In public. This wasn't happening. Nope. This was a stress-induced hallucination.

I swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. "I... uh... excuse me?"

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking every bit the bad boy cliché I'd been trying to avoid. "You're playing a dangerous game, Singh."

Hearing him say my last name felt... weird. Too personal, too familiar, like he knew something about me that I hadn't given him permission to know. But I wasn't about to let him see that he was getting to me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.

He tilted his head, studying me with those dark, unreadable eyes. "You think people don't talk? I know about the bet."

I blinked, feeling my stomach drop. How did he know about the bet already? I hadn't even started making moves on Pierre yet. Was Franklin already spreading rumors?

"I..." My voice trailed off as I struggled to find something clever to say. But my brain was short-circuiting under the weight of Ethyn's gaze. "I don't know what you've heard, but—"

"You're wasting your time with Pierre," he interrupted, his tone casual but firm. "He's not interested in girls like you."

Ouch. That stung. Not that I was going to let him see that.

"And what kind of girl am I?" I asked, lifting my chin defiantly.

Ethyn smirked again, but this time it wasn't the playful kind. It was more like a warning. "You're the kind that thinks you can control everything. That you can plan out every move, every step. But life doesn't work that way. And neither does Pierre."

I stared at him, trying to figure out what his angle was. Was he trying to warn me? Or was this some twisted game of his own?

"I don't need your advice," I said, crossing my arms. "I can handle Pierre just fine."

Ethyn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and for a second, I felt like prey being circled by a predator. "Maybe. But let me give you some free advice: you're not ready for someone like me."

My heart skipped a beat, and not in the good, romantic-comedy kind of way. More like the "oh-crap-I'm-in-trouble" kind of way.

"Who said anything about you?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

He chuckled, low and dangerous, like he found the whole situation amusing. "You're a bad liar, Singh. I'll see you around."

And with that, he stood up, gave me one last smirk, and walked away, leaving me sitting there, heart racing, mind spinning, and absolutely no idea what the hell just happened.

I stared after him, a thousand thoughts running through my head, but one thing was crystal clear:

Ethyn Moralez was trouble.

And I had just stepped right into his path.