"WHAT DO YOU mean you slept with him?!" Addy hisses, balancing three plates on her arm.

I motion for her to quiet down, clearing the glasses from the table. "Can you be any louder?"I ask sarcastically, eyeing the few patrons left in the diner below age twenty-five. With an exhausted sigh, I head for the kitchen to drop off the dishes, Addison filing closely behind.

"I mean just that," I explain, glasses clattering into the sink. "We slept in the same bed. That's it. I woke up the next morning and there we were, fully clothed, with Cameron happily lying on the other side of me. It was weird."

Addy snorts a laugh. "Good luck convincing Eliza."

I throw a glare over my shoulder in her direction as I stride out of the kitchen to the sound of the bell on the front door chiming.

"Welcome to Pauli's," I announce, plastering on a winning smile, only to have it sour the second I recognize the girl with the flaming red hair and caked on makeup.

Girl seriously needed to learn how to blend.

"Sorry," I apologize flatly, remaining safely behind the counter. "We don't serve psychotic gingersnaps here. I think you'll have to try someplace else."

Clarissa only scoffs, flicking her hair over her shoulder and narrowly missing the lackey flanking her on her left. "You couldn't pay me enough to eat here, even if you were still rich."

I have to silently remind myself not to come out from behind the counter and scratch her face off. Even if Addy's mom isn't in the restaurant at the moment, it's a small town, and I don't doubt she'd hear about it fairly quickly if her newest waitress went psycho on a customer.

"In that case," I say instead, taking the high road that wouldn't end with me catching a mugshot, "order something or get out. This restaurant is for paying customers only."

Turning her right, Clarissa makes a show of waving down Addison. "Maddy, be a doll and get a water for me. Light ice, two slices of lemon."

Addison's cheek flush a deep shade of red, her eyes darting to the ground under the weight of Clarissa's expectant stare. The power she exudes over my friend makes my blood boil in my veins. So, as Clarissa gingerly takes a seat at the counter, I stride over to the pitcher of ice water we keep filled by the serving window, sloppily pour it into a glass and place it down in front of her.

Clarissa's nose scrunches up as she looks down at it in disapproval. "This is not what I ordered."

"I'm sorry, we're all out of lemons. And unless you want me to pick out that ice with my fingers—"

She cuts me off with a snarl of disgust. "Whatever. It's not like I'm going to drink it in the first place."

My eyes roll. "What do you want, Clarissa?"

"Well, for starters, I'd like my boyfriend back."

The urge to roll my eyes again is overwhelming, but somewhere in the back of my mind I hear my mom pestering me that one day my eyes might get stuck in the back of my head.

"God, Clarissa," I scoff, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms across my chest. "When are you going to realize that people are not possessions? You can't own them, and you can't control them, no matter how hard you try."

"And when did you finally realize this, Peyton?" She counters, lacing her hands together in front of her. "Before or after you were thrown from your tower and landed on this high horse of yours?"

"I may have been popular back at home, Clarissa," I tell her, the hairs on the back of my neck rising in defence, "but don't ever confuse the two of us as being alike. I never treated people as worthlessly and viscously as you do."

"Oh yeah?" She smirks, an eyebrow raising up like I've just offered her a challenge she cannot refuse. "And what about Layla-Mai Jordan?"

I freeze, my face falling into an expressionless mask.

There is no possible way Clarissa could know about Layla-Mai. It just isn't possible. It can't be possible. Few people in my life knew that story, and not one of them knew Clarissa. Unless...

"It would seem I'm not the only one holding a grudge, Peyton, darling. You see, while you were off screwing my boyfriend at a lame house party in another town, I was getting to know an old friend of yours on Instagram," she smirks, her face eerily resembling the Cheshire Cat. "Does the name 'Mia' ring a bell by chance?"

Ah, shit.

My shocked look and lack of witty response seems to invite Clarissa to continue on her twirling of her evil moustache and spillage of her diabolical plan. "I couldn't help but notice her comments on some of your posts. You must've really screwed her over, huh? Anyways, she was more than happy to give me all the gory details about your time at the Spence School," she laughs, turning to her brunette lackey seated obediently beside her. "It seems Miss Perfect isn't as nice as the face she puts on, wouldn't it?"

The girl— Kristy, I think— nods, fixing me with her best attempt at a smug grin. Little does she realize, she just looks like she's constipated.

"My past is just that, Clarissa," I state, not letting her walk all over me a minute longer. "We all have regrets and things we wish we could make up for. What matters is I'm trying to be better here. Stop letting your petty jealousy get in the way of seeing that you can do better yourself if you would stop putting everyone else around you down."

She takes none of my words to heart though, if the flat expression on her face is any giveaway. "But it's so much more fun this way."

My eyes narrow in her direction, and I shake my head in disappointment.

"Has it never occurred to you that you're going to such lengths for a guy who doesn't even care about you?"

The girl beside her choose this moment to speak up, sneering at me in the process. "They were on a break, you pompous princess!"

"No, Kristine, not a princess," Clarissa grins delightfully as she gathers herself and hops down off of the stool to leave. "More like a pauper. A poor, pathetic pauper."

A part of me is dumbfounded by the fact that nobody at school blinked twice at my so-called "relationship" with Hunter over the past two weeks. The only ones to still glare at me as I walk by hand-in-hand with Hunter are Clarissa and her evil henchgirls. The remainder of the student body have gone along with it as well as I could've hoped.

Sure, there's the odd curious girl asking me what exactly it's like to bed the hottest guy in the county, but for the most part it seems like everyone is trying to get on my good side. I get compliments on my skirts and my shoes, random people come to sit with us at lunch, and everyone seems to be acting like they're my new best friend, even though I have no idea who half of them are. As much as I was enjoying my newfound invisibility after so long it the limelight, I have to admit that I'm not entirely upset with the attention.

One of the benefits to the surge in my social status, and possibly the one that reassures me the most that I'm doing the right thing, is the effect it's had on my friends. I can't count the number of times I'd heard classmates teasing and making fun of Addison and Eliza. Each time I heard someone call Addy cruel names or throw slurs at Liza, it made my blood boil. Now, save for once or twice I overheard one of Clarissa's friends mutter something, nobody dares. People treat them with respect, talking to them like human beings rather than some trash they found on the side of the road.

And I know that the sudden change in attitude will never make up for the years of harassment they've endured from people they've known since they were kids. Nothing can. But it's nice to see them smile and relax at school, rather than sit on the edge of their seat in a corner, ready to make a break for it if anyone starts at them.

Addison's shown the biggest difference these past few weeks. She now walks with more confidence when we're in the hallways, and sits comfortably beside Ethan at our table in the middle of the cafeteria at lunch. She even chats with him, rather than shying away and blushing as red as a tomato.

I'm used to being popular. To me, this is normal. But this time around, it's different. It feels good to use that popularity for, well, good— to give others the opportunity to feel included.

Even if the cost of it all is having Hunter's hands glued to my body for at least six hours a day.

It's lunchtime on a Thursday. Addy, Eliza, and Ethan are huddled at the lunch table with us. While Addy and Ethan chatter away in their own little bubble, Eliza has busied herself in her phone, texting her girlfriend Lauren if the small smile on her face is any giveaway. Which leaves me and Hunter to entertain ourselves for the duration of our lunch hour.

Oh joy.

"For fuck sakes," he mutters to himself, his eyes rolling. With the hand he doesn't have settled on my leg, he digs around in the pocket of his jeans and produces a rather beat-up looking Android. Taking a look at whatever notification is on the screen, he lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a scoff.

I pause, leaving whatever progress I've made picking apart the mediocre egg salad sandwich Mom made for me to take to lunch, and look over at him expectantly. "One night stand not understanding the concept of 'one night'?" I ask casually.

The look he shoots me out of the corner of his eye is entirely unamused, but I find it rather amusing. Where most girls would blow a gasket if they found out their boyfriend was sleeping with other girls, I couldn't give a shit. In fact, I encourage it. As long as the girls keep their mouths shut and don't blow this whole relationship thing to smithereens, I'm completely okay with Hunter getting his fix somewhere else.

"No, it's Clary."

My face falls into a flat expression. "You're telling me you still text your ex-girlfriend? Really?"

"No, she texts. I ignore her."

His phone vibrates in his hand agains, and I scoff loudly. "Tell the ginger she-devil to fuck off."

Hunter chuckles, shaking his head as his mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin. "I'd love to, Skirt. But that one was actually from Cam."

My expression remains flat as I blink. "You can tell him too. I'm fine with that."

"He'd probably enjoy that too much," he states, and I don't disagree.

Hunter takes a moment to read the text before his leg kicks out under the table and I notice Ethan jump across from us. He rips his gaze away from Addy's giggling face to turn a glare on Hunter. "Dude! What was that for?!"

"You were too busy flirting," Hunter shrugs, "I doubted you'd pay any attention to me talking."

The blush that heats up Addison's face spreads to the tips of ears, her entire face turning as red as a tomato. I'm tempted to kick Hunter myself, but figure I'll save Addy any more embarrassment and deal with Hunter's bluntness later.

"Got any plans this weekend?"

Ethan thinks for a second, leaning an arm on the table beside him. "Nah, don't think so. What's up?"

"Cam's having a thing tomorrow night," Hunter says, "He wants to know if we wanna come."

The expression on Ethan's face shifts towards Addison where she sits on the bench beside him, or well, in front of him. His eyebrow rises in a question. "Whatcha think, Addy? You wanna go?"

Frankly, my friend looks completely floored by his question, and she barely manages to squeak out a quiet, "Me?"

Ethan nods, and I swear I can hear the fluttering of the butterflies in Addy's stomach. When she doesn't automatically blurt out an answer, I subtly nudge her foot under the table.

She squeaks again, but this time manages to nod her head in acceptance. "Uh, sure. Yeah. I guess. That'd be fun right?"

"It will be, Addy," I say, shooting her a supportive smile before adding, "As long as Cameron doesn't actually show up."

Hunter's groan of annoyance sounds on cue, and Ethan stifles a laugh. This has seemingly become a routine of our's whenever the subject of Cameron comes up.

"You gotta stop hating on him, Skirt," Hunter protests, leaning his head in his hand in exasperation.

I glare at him. "He literally laid in bed and stared at me while I slept. He's a creep."

"Don't go thinking you're too special, babe. I was there too."

"I don't care. He's a creep," I state, my tone leaving no room for Hunter to argue before I turn on Eliza. "You coming too, Liza? I'm still waiting to meet Lauren. Now's the perfect opportunity." 

She fixes me with a humourless smile. "Sounds like a blast. Too bad I've got a human sacrifice I'm overdue to perform. Guess I'll have to pass this time. Sorry."

I don't even dignify her sarcasm with an eye roll.

"Come on, Eliza. You never come out with us," I complain, breaking a piece of bread off my sandwich and tossing it in her direction. "I'm starting to think you don't like me."

Eliza dodges the crumb easily, leaning back and stretching her arms above her head. "I like you just fine. Even your arm candy is becoming more tolerable. However, never in a million years will I be caught dead within a two mile radius of Cameron Wilson."

Ethan and Hunter stifle their laughter, like there's some inside joke I'm missing. I ignore them, as I tend to, and turn to Eliza. "I completely agree with you. But we can suffer his presence together."

Her face screws up in disgust, but I continue my pleading, growing more loud and irritating with each "please". Finally, after about a dozen "pretty"s, she throws a napkin at my head. "Fine!" She yells, groaning at my persistence. "If it shuts you up, I'll come. But I make no guarantees there'll be no murder."

"Deal," I state, zipping my lips. "I'll even help you hide the body."

Another groan sounds from Hunter, but I'm hardly paying attention to him.

"I can see if I can borrow Dad's car tonight," Ethan volunteers. "He's been begging me to clean out the garage. Seems like a fair trade."

"If not, I can probably get my mom to lend us her Jeep," I shrug. "But someone else will have to drive it."

Hunter raises an eyebrow in my direction. "That used to being chauffeured around, are ya, Skirt?"

"Not really. But I figure even you small town folks frown upon unlicensed minors driving on public roads."

"You don't have your license?" Addison asks surprisedly. "Not even your learners?"

I shake my head. "Nope, never had a reason too."

They hackle me about my lack of driving experience for a few more minutes, and Hunter barely finishes vowing to "change that soon," before the warning bell rings to signal the end of lunch.

"So we're doing this tomorrow?" I clarify, wrapping what's left of my sandwich in paper towel and shooting Eliza a very pointed look. "All of us?"

Liza mumbles something beneath the chatter of the bustling cafeteria— something that vaguely sounds like I'm going to end up in a ditch somewhere— but, she nods her head. "Yeah, fine. I'm there."

I barely shoot her a smug smile before Hunter wraps his hand around mine and begins pulling me towards the cafeteria doors. I grumble my protest, but I do it quietly. If I had a dollar for every time Hunter dragged me around against my will, I'd probably be able to afford to move back to New York.

He throws a promise over his shoulder to our friends to see them in class soon. We're in the hallway before I can hear their responses.

We make our way towards one of the back stairwells of the school, one that shelters and exit door that leads to the back parking lot where most of the potheads and smokers hang out at all hours of the day. Apparently Rock Valley doesn't give much thought to truancy, as long as it happens behind the school where no grown ups have to see it.

"If I smell like cigarettes when I get home, my mom will kill me," I inform Hunter as he leads me through the exit door and into the cold breeze of early April.

"Then don't hug anyone," he retorts.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest against the breeze. Hunter notices, and takes a second to shift in front of me, acting as my own personal wind block.

I meet his gaze. "Well, are you going to tell me why you dragged me out here? Or are we playing a guessing game?"

"One question, Skirt. That's all."

Not feeling too chatty, and entirely anxious to get back inside to our warm classroom, I motion for him to hurry up.

"Who's Layla-Mai?"

That crash? My old life, for the second time in a month, colliding full tilt with my new one.

I stiffen at the name. I guess Clarissa hadn't gone so dormant after all. My only hope was that she hadn't given Hunter any details aside from a name. "Layla-Mai is a mistake from my past," I say robotically, my face a smooth mask. "A mistake I wholeheartedly regret. And one I don't like to talk about."

Hunter only arches an eyebrow at me, pausing to dig his phone out of his pockets. I can tell by the looks in his blue eyes that he isn't really falling for the words coming out of my mouth.

He flips to something on his phone before turning the screen to face me. I take it, and he points to the conversation he's opened for me to read.

I can feel the blood drain out of my face, and I know it isn't from the cold.

Hunter's face is surprisingly serious. "You might not want to tell me Peyton, that's fine. I've kinda gotten used to the fact I don't know you from a hole in the wall. But, I do know Clary. So, if she says she's got some secret that is going to ruin you, I know she means it. She will use it against you.

A small laugh escapes me. "I thought you didn't care much for drama."

His mouth twists into a sly smirk as he takes his phone back from my outstretched hand. "Let's just say, I happen to like you well enough that I don't wanna see you go down for something that happened a while back."

"Not yet at least," I finish for him, giving his shoulder a somewhat playful shrug.

The smirk he's wearing is full on, spreading infectiously across his features. "Trust me, Skirt. If anyone's gonna take you down, it's sure as shit gonna be me."

Honestly, who even reads author's notes anyways? Yes— I'm still alive. Yes— this is actually a semi-new chapter. If you've been keeping up on Inkitt, you're my favourite, thank you, and I love you. And you also know that this is just the beginning.
Until I decide to post another chapter, or Wattpad by some miracle ceases to aggravate me, enjoy this photo of my puppy. I have no energy to gif search.

Lots of love,