VI

Danielle strode through the school hallways like she owned the place, the faint scent of freshly polished floors and cheap cafeteria food barely registering as she made her way toward her locker. Conversations hushed slightly as she passed, students stealing quick glances in her direction before pretending to be engrossed in their own lives. She smirked, unfazed. This was exactly the reaction she expected.

As she approached her locker, she spotted them—her closest friends, Lilianna and Brooklyn, already leaning against the row of metal doors, deep in conversation. Brooklyn, ever the effortlessly stylish one, flipped her hair over her shoulder as she spoke, while Lilianna—more sharp-edged and sarcastic—had her arms crossed, listening with an amused expression.

Standing slightly apart from them, William, her so-called boyfriend, scrolled through his phone with a bored look on his face. His role in her life was simple—he was there for show, the perfect cover, an easy distraction for anyone who might look too closely at the truth. It was an arrangement that worked, and he knew better than to question it.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," Brooklyn teased as Danielle reached them, her eyes scanning Danielle's outfit before nodding approvingly. "Love the look. Very don't mess with me unless you have a death wish."

Danielle smirked, tossing her bag into her locker. "That's the goal."

Lilianna scoffed. "As if anyone would dare. You already have half the school too scared to breathe in your direction."

Danielle shrugged, pulling out her books with a lazy confidence. "Not my fault people are intimidated by a little confidence."

William finally looked up from his phone, sliding it into his pocket. "Or maybe it's the Bugatti. You do realize most of these people are still getting dropped off by their parents, right?"

Danielle smirked, leaning against the locker with her arms crossed. "Not my problem."

Brooklyn let out a dramatic sigh, linking her arm through Danielle's. "Well, as much as I love standing here basking in our collective superiority, we should probably get to class before Matthews decides to make us his next life lesson."

Danielle rolled her eyes, but she let Brooklyn pull her along, William trailing behind them. Another day, another chance to remind everyone exactly who ran this school.

Danielle barely spared a thought for Maya or her friends as she moved through the hallways. It wasn't like their paths crossed much during the school day. She was a senior, after all, and Maya and her little crew were just freshmen.

Different schedules, different classrooms, different social circles. It was better that way—cleaner. Easier to pretend that a certain blonde troublemaker didn't occupy more space in her mind than she had any right to.

Instead, Danielle focused on her own world. The world where she reigned.

Her classes were filled with the usual mix of popular juniors, some seniors who tolerated her, and the occasional overachiever who didn't belong but was too focused on their grades to care about social status. Teachers barely bothered to call on her unless absolutely necessary.

They knew better. Danielle did her work, got good enough grades to keep anyone from questioning her, but she wasn't one of those kids who lived for school. She had more important things to worry about—like maintaining the reputation she'd built over the last two years.

Brooklyn and Lilianna were in most of her classes, making the school day tolerable. They passed notes, exchanged looks when something ridiculous happened, and kept the boredom at bay with whispered jokes and occasional plans for the next big party.

William was in a couple of her classes too, but their dynamic was different. He played his part—smiling when needed, keeping up the appearance of the doting boyfriend—but they never overdid it. He knew the deal. They were just playing a role for the public eye.

By lunchtime, Danielle had settled comfortably into the rhythm of her day, her mind occupied with everything except Maya Hart. At least, that's what she told herself.

Danielle had perfectly avoided Maya

Danielle had perfectly avoided Maya all day—something she was secretly proud of, even if she refused to admit to herself why it mattered. The carefully curated schedule of a junior meant she never had to brush shoulders with the freshmen. By the time the final bell rang, she had made it through without so much as a glimpse of blonde hair or a sarcastic smirk.

It was supposed to be a victory.

But the universe had other plans.

By the time she got home, she barely had time to kick off her boots before Aunt Izzy leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and a knowing smile already plastered on her face.

"Topanga's," Izzy announced, holding out a small list scrawled on the back of a napkin. "Milk, coffee, and that fancy bread I like."

Danielle's shoulders tensed. She could feel the trap closing around her.

"Seriously?" she muttered, snatching the list. "You couldn't have gone yourself?"

Izzy smirked. "What's the point of having a niece with a ridiculously expensive car if I can't exploit her for errands?"

Danielle narrowed her eyes but grabbed her keys anyway. She liked driving, and Izzy knew it. That was the problem with living with someone who knew all your tells—they could always manipulate you without you realizing it.

Twenty minutes later, the Bugatti purred to a stop outside Topanga's. Danielle killed the engine, sitting behind the wheel a little longer than necessary. The warm glow of the café lights spilled onto the sidewalk, familiar and irritating all at once.

She could walk in, grab the stuff, and leave. Simple. Easy.

But as soon as she walked down the stairs and pushed through the door, she spotted them—Riley, and of course, her.

Maya Hart.

Danielle leaned against the counter, waiting for her order as the scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air. She absentmindedly drummed her fingers against the polished surface, her eyes drifting toward Maya's table despite her best efforts to ignore it.

Maya was hunched slightly over a notebook, a pencil twirling between her fingers as she scribbled something—either drawing or writing, though Danielle couldn't tell from this distance. Next to her, Riley had a laptop perched on her lap, fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard, likely typing some overly optimistic essay about the wonders of high school or something equally exhausting.

Danielle exhaled slowly, shifting her attention back to the register. The barista handed over the croissants and coffee, but before she could turn to leave, movement in her peripheral vision made her pause.

Francesca, Nikki, and Thor.

The trio strolled toward Maya and Riley's table.

Danielle didn't move, didn't react. She just watched.

Francesca and Nikki sat down next to each other while Thor sat on the opposite side of them. They had a conversation which didn't actually look like a mean conversation.

Maya's expression didn't change much, but Danielle noticed the subtle way she clenched her jaw, the way her fingers lingered over whatever she had been drawing. She fully calmed down when the trio left.

Danielle should have left. She had no reason to stay, no reason to care.

But then the door jingled again, and Farkle walked in, shaking the cold from his coat as he made a beeline for their table.

Danielle finally turned away, gripping the bag of croissants a little tighter than necessary. Whatever just happened didn't concern her. She had done a damn good job avoiding Maya all day—no point in ruining her streak now.

Then she stopped once she saw Riley get in Farkles face. It looked like her friend group had separated, from Danielle's point of view.