THE WHOLE WEEKEND WENT BY and you didn't see Matt once. Much to your displeasure.

As you wake up for the first day of the week, your body sluggish and your mind a mess. The events with Matt still cling to you like a bad dream you can't shake off, looping on repeat in your head.

You sit up in bed, squinting at the sunlight filtering through your curtains, but even the brightness of the morning does nothing to lighten the heaviness in your chest.

You can't stop thinking about Matt. How his eyes lingered on you when he saw you at the police station, or the way he hesitated when he saw you pay his bail, like there was something he wanted to say but couldn't.

That look he gave you before walking away had left you more confused than ever. And it wasn't just the look—it was the pull between you, as if gravity itself had shifted.

You shake your head, trying to push him out of your mind. You shouldn't be thinking about him. He's with Marissa.

He's part of that group—the ones who seem to have everything handed to them, the popular crowd.

And you? You're an Ember, one of the wealthy kids in town. But even though people expect you to blend in with your family's money and social status, you've never really felt like you belonged.

You try to keep your head down and avoid the snobbishness that others expect from someone like you.

Still, despite your efforts to shove the thoughts aside, Matt lingers in your mind as you get ready for school.

As you pull on your tailored navy blazer, the soft cashmere fabric feels luxurious against your skin, with gold-button accents adding a touch of elegance.

Underneath, you wear a crisp white silk blouse, the delicate fabric draping effortlessly, cinched at the waist with a slim leather belt.

Your tailored high-waisted trousers, made from a lightweight wool blend, taper perfectly to highlight your sleek silhouette.

In your hand, you carry a structured designer handbag in rich burgundy leather, its gleaming hardware catching the light as you move.

On your feet, you slip into polished ankle boots made from soft black suede, their stiletto heels elevating your stature while remaining comfortable for a stroll.

A delicate gold necklace with a single diamond pendant rests against your collarbone, completing the outfit with understated sophistication and then you leave the house, hoping the cool autumn air will clear your head.

As you walk to school, the chill nips at your skin, but the anxious knot in your stomach remains. The streets seem quieter than usual, but your thoughts are loud—louder than you'd like them to be.

You keep replaying yesterday's events, that moment when Matt's gaze locked onto yours, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. You tell yourself it was nothing, but you know it wasn't. Not really.

When you finally arrive at school, the courtyard is already buzzing with students talking and laughing.

You scan the crowd almost automatically, looking for him. You're not even sure why—just the thought of seeing him again makes your heart pound uncomfortably in your chest.

But when you don't spot him right away, you feel an odd mix of relief and disappointment.

"Hey, you!" a familiar voice calls out.

You turn to see your only friend, Rowan, leaning against the brick wall near the entrance, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

"There you are," she says, her tone teasing. "You look... distracted."

"Do I?" you ask, trying to sound casual, but you're pretty sure you're failing miserably.

"Yup." Rowan raises an eyebrow. "Something happen yesterday? You've been acting weird since I last saw you."

You hesitate, glancing around the courtyard as if the answer might be found somewhere in the crowd.

You know you can't hide much from Rowan—she knows you considerably well for the short time you've known her.

But still, part of you isn't ready to talk about it.

Not yet, anyway.

"It's nothing," you finally say, giving her a weak smile. "I'm just tired."

Rowan hums, clearly unconvinced. "Sure it has nothing to do with a certain someone whose name rhymes with 'rat'?"

You shoot her a sharp look, feeling your face heat up. "No, it's not like that."

"Uh-huh, right." Rowan grins wider, enjoying how flustered you're getting. "Anyway, did you hear about the drama at the party last night? Jenna caught Ryan flirting with Ashley, and she went ballistic. Dumped a drink on him and everything. Classic."

She continues, animatedly recounting every juicy detail, but your attention starts to drift.

Your mind keeps wandering back to Matt, and your eyes keep darting around the courtyard, almost instinctively searching for him.

You hate that you're this distracted, but you can't help it.

Just then, the bell rings, pulling you from your thoughts. You and Rowan join the flow of students heading toward the school building, your feet dragging as you try to prepare yourself for whatever the day holds.

Inside, the hallways are crowded, the noise of lockers slamming and voices chattering blending into a chaotic symphony.

You stick close to Rowan as you weave through the crowd, but as you're about to turn the corner toward your locker, something—or rather someone—makes you freeze in place.

There he is.

Matt.

He's walking in your direction, down the hallway
with his arm draped around Marissa, like always.

She's laughing about something with her friend, completely oblivious, but Matt isn't paying attention to her.

His eyes are locked on you, dark and unreadable. For a split second, the world around you fades, and it's just the two of you, suspended in this strange, electric tension. Neither of you says anything, but it feels like there's a conversation happening in the space between you, even if you can't decipher it.

Your heart races, and you quickly look away, hoping to avoid making things even more awkward than they already feel.

But as you try to walk past, Tyler—Matt's loud, obnoxious friend—steps in front of you with a smug grin.

"Well, well, look who it is," Tyler sneers, looking you up and down. "The little princess."

You feel your stomach drop. Of course, Tyler would pick this moment to start messing with you.

He's always had something to prove, especially around the "Embers," the wealthy kids like you.

He has this chip on his shoulder, this belief that everyone like you thinks they're better than him. You've never done anything to give him that idea, but it doesn't matter to him.

"I'm not in the mood, Tyler," you say firmly, trying to push past him.

But Tyler isn't one to let things go easily. He steps in front of you again, blocking your path, his smirk widening. "What's the rush, sweetheart? Too good to talk to us now? Or are you afraid Matt's girlfriend might get the wrong idea?"

"What?" You glance quickly at Matt, who's watching the interaction with a clenched jaw. His eyes are intense, but he stays silent, his arm still loosely around Marissa's shoulders.

Marissa seems completely uninterested, too busy chatting with her friend to notice what's going on.

"Just leave me alone, Tyler," you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but you can feel the frustration bubbling up inside you.

Tyler only laughs, leaning in closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come on, don't be like that. You rich kids always think you're so much better than the rest of us, don't you? Or maybe..."

He pauses, his grin growing more malicious. "Maybe you've got your eye on Matt, huh? Is that it? Trying to steal him from Marissa?"

You can feel your face heat up, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "Shut up, Tyler," you snap, your frustration boiling over.

"Ooh, I hit a nerve, didn't I?" Tyler taunts. "You think Matt's going to dump Marissa for some spoiled Ember? Please, that's embarrassing."

You swallow hard, trying not to let his words get to you. You glance at Matt again, but his expression is unreadable.

He still hasn't said a word, but there's something in his eyes—something dark, conflicted.

Before you can respond, Marissa—who has finally grown bored of the situation—steps forward, a look of disdain on her face. "God, why are we wasting time on her?" she mutters, rolling her eyes. "She's not even worth it. She could never replace me"

Without warning, Marissa shoves you hard, sending you stumbling back.

Your backpack slips off your shoulder and hits the ground with a heavy thud.

Your books and papers scatter across the floor, and for a moment, all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

"Oops," Marissa says, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Guess you dropped something weirdo."

She turns and walks away, clearly uninterested in the fallout of her actions, while Tyler stands there laughing, clearly enjoying the humiliation.

You kneel down, cursing under your breath as you start gathering your things, trying to hold back the embarrassment burning your cheeks.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Matt watching, his expression torn. His hand hovers midair like he wants to help but doesn't know if he should.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Matt steps forward. He kneels down beside you, his presence so close it makes your skin tingle with a strange mix of tension and comfort.

As you both reach for the same book, his hand brushes against yours, and you freeze. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, and for a moment, neither of you moves.

"Here," Matt mutters, handing you the book. His voice is low, almost a whisper, but it carries a weight that makes your heart beat faster.

"Thanks," you mumble, your face flushed as you quickly take the book from him, trying to ignore the strange warmth spreading through your chest.

Before you can say anything else, Tyler steps forward again, his sneer growing even more malicious. "What's this? Matt playing the hero now?" he mocks. "Guess he's got a soft spot for you, huh, princess?"

You stand up, clutching your books to your chest, but before you can respond, Tyler gets even closer, his breath hot against your skin.

His voice drops to a low, menacing whisper. "You think you're better than us, don't you?" Tyler hisses, his eyes narrowing. "Just because you've got money, fancy clothes, and a big house. You think that makes you special? Newsflash, princess—you're nothing. Just another spoiled, stuck-up little rich girl."

You flinch as his words hit you like daggers, cutting deep. His hand brushes your arm, and a shiver of disgust runs through you. "Don't touch me," you snap, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay strong.

Tyler laughs, a cruel sound that echoes in the crowded hallway. "Or what? You gonna cry to Daddy? Run home to your mansion?"

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure.

But Tyler's taunts are relentless, and his words cut deeper than you'd like to admit.

It's not just the insults—it's the way he says them, with that smug grin, as if he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

Before you can respond, Matt suddenly steps in between you and Tyler, his face hard and jaw clenched.

The storm in his eyes is more intense now, like he's barely holding back from exploding.

"That's enough, Tyler, back off," Matt says, his voice low but firm, like a warning.

Tyler's grin falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, his smirk returning even sharper than before. "What, bro? I'm just having some fun with her" he says, stepping closer to Matt. "Why can't you just let me have my way with her. That why you're defending her, you want the Ember?"

Matt doesn't respond, but the tension between the two of them is thick, crackling in the air like electricity.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you watch them, unsure of what's going to happen next.

Tyler leans in, his smirk growing. "Careful, Matt. Wouldn't want Marissa to get the wrong idea about all this. Or maybe she'd love to hear how her boyfriend's cozying up to some rich girl behind her back."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. The way Tyler says it, so casually, makes your stomach twist in knots.

You glance quickly at Matt, but his face is unreadable—his jaw tight, his fists clenched at his sides.

He's clearly struggling to keep his temper in check.

Then, Tyler reaches down and grabs your backpack off the floor, yanking it out of your hands. You gasp, trying to grab it back, but he holds it out of reach, laughing.

"What's in here, huh?" Tyler says mockingly, unzipping the bag. "Let's see what our little princess is hiding. Maybe some love notes for Matt?"

"Give it back!" you shout, panic rising in your chest. Your voice wavers as you reach for your bag again, but Tyler just dodges, still laughing.

"Whoa, slow down, princess," Tyler says, flipping through the contents of your bag. "Let's see what we've got here. Oh, what's this?"

Your heart stops as he pulls out your notebook—the one you always carry with you, filled with sketches and personal notes.

Tyler flips it open and starts thumbing through the pages, his grin widening as he finds something that catches his attention.

"Well, well, well," Tyler says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do we have here? A little sketchbook? Oh, man, this is rich. Look at this!"

He holds up the notebook for everyone to see, and your stomach drops.

It's the drawing—the sketch you'd done of Matt weeks ago, before things got so complicated.

You'd been sitting in the library, sketching him from across the room, capturing that brooding, distant look he always seemed to have.

It was intimate in a way that made your chest tighten just thinking about it.

"Oh, wow!" Tyler laughs, showing the drawing to the other students who have gathered around to watch the spectacle. "Look at this, guys! She's been doodling Matt. Looks like someone's got a little crush."

Your face burns with embarrassment. Tears prickled at your eyes and Matt saw this.

You want to disappear, to melt into the floor and never be seen again.

The whole hallway seems to close in around you, the whispers and laughter of the other students swirling like a storm.

"Stop," you plead, your voice barely a whisper. "Please, stop." A single tear ran down your cheek.

But Tyler isn't done. He waves the notebook around, making sure everyone gets a good look at the drawing. "Hey, Matt, you see this? She's been drawing you, man. Looks like you've got yourself a little admirer."

You glance at Matt, your heart pounding so hard you can barely breathe.

You expect him to look embarrassed, maybe even angry. But when your eyes meet his, you see something else entirely. His face is hard, but there's a flicker of something behind his eyes—something dark, conflicted, and almost protective.

"Give that back," Matt says, his voice low and dangerous, like a warning.

Before you can process what's happening, Matt steps forward and snatches the notebook out of Tyler's hands with a force that takes everyone by surprise.

Tyler blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting Matt to react this way. But then he laughs, shrugging it off. "Whoa, chill, man. It's just a drawing. I mean, come on, can you blame her? You're the only decent guy around here." He tries to soften the blow of the Crimson King.

Matt ignores him, flipping through the pages of the notebook until he reaches the drawing of himself.

His eyes linger on the sketch for a long moment, his expression softening in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

It's as if the entire hallway holds its breath, waiting to see what Matt will do next.

Without a word, Matt carefully folds the page with the sketch and slips it into his back pocket, hiding it from view. His movements are so quick, so subtle, that no one else seems to notice—no one except you.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize what he's done. Why is he keeping it? Why didn't he tear it up or throw it in Tyler's face?

"Whoa, what was that about?" one of the other guys, Nate, pipes up, noticing something odd about Matt's reaction. "You tucking away her little love note? Man, Marissa's gonna love hearing about this."

"You keep your mouth shut. You know what I'll do to you if you don't. I have connections Nate, I hope you understand that. I'll be done with you before you can even blink" Matt's jaw tightens, his voice deeper than ever before.

Nate looks back at the ground and doesn't say anything.

Tyler, meanwhile, seems to think this is all a big joke.

"Hey, maybe we should make sure Marissa sees that little sketch," Tyler says, grinning maliciously. "I bet she'd love to know how her boyfriend's got some rich girl pining for him."

Panic rises in your chest. Tyler is pushing too far, and Matt knows it. He's trying to keep calm, but there's a fire in his eyes now—one that looks dangerously close to erupting.

"Tyler," Matt growls, stepping closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "If you don't shut your mouth right now, I swear I'll—"

"What?" Tyler cuts in, his grin widening as he realizes he's getting under Matt's skin. "You gonna punch me in front of everyone? That's what it's gonna take to defend your little princess over here?"

Matt's nostrils flare, and his knuckles whiten as he tightens his fists. The tension between them is palpable, like a live wire ready to snap.

But Tyler, always the instigator, leans in closer to you, his breath hot against your face as he whispers, "Maybe I should show you what it's like to be with a real man. Maybe Matt's been holding out on you."

Your blood runs cold at his words, your stomach twisting in disgust. His hand reaches out, like he's about to touch your arm again, and that's when you finally snap.

"Don't touch me," you hiss, your voice filled with venom as you step back, away from him.

The words come out sharper than you intended, and for a split second, Tyler looks taken aback. But then he just laughs again, louder, meaner. "Oh, you think you can talk to me like that? You're walking on thin ice, princess."

But before you can say anything, Matt moves. He grabs Tyler by the collar and slams him against the lockers with a loud bang that echoes down the hallway. The crowd of students watching gasps in shock, and for a moment, there's nothing but stunned silence.

Matt's face is inches from Tyler's, his grip tight and unyielding. His voice is low and dangerous, vibrating with barely controlled rage. "If you touch her or any hair on her head, ever again," Matt growls through gritted teeth, "Help me, if you even only as much as look at her the wrong way, I swear to God, Tyler, I'll break every bone in your body."

Tyler's eyes widen in surprise. He wasn't expecting this. He knew bettwer that to contradict Matt—the one standing in front of him now—he's different. He's the leader.

And he's always filled with a kind of rage that's been simmering beneath the surface, and now, he's not holding back anymore.

The hallway is dead silent now, all eyes locked on the two of them. You can see the fear creeping into Tyler's eyes, though he's trying to hide it behind a weak grin.

"Come on, man," Tyler says, his voice faltering. "I was just messing around." He gulps.

Matt doesn't let go. His grip