Chapter-2

The rest of Mr. Henderson's class was unbearable.

Not because of the history lesson — though that was also terrible. But because Damian's thoughts were so LOUD.

"Don't look at her. Don't look at her. Don't— I LOOKED. WHY DID I LOOK."

Anya pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

"She's not even paying attention. Good. Wait. Why isn't she paying attention?? Is she ignoring me?? Why do I care if she's ignoring me?? I DON'T CARE."

Anya buried her face in her textbook.

"Her hair is messy. Did she even brush it today? ...It's kinda cute. NO. STOP. UN-CUTE. THINK UN-CUTE THOUGHTS."

"...She has peanut butter on her uniform collar too."

"I wanna wipe that off as well."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME."

Anya's shoulder shook with silent laughter.

Becky leaned over, eyes narrowed. "Why are you giggling? Did that annoying Desmond do something?"

"No!" Anya whispered.

"Then why is your face red?!"

"It's... hot in here."

Becky looked at the ceiling fan, spinning at full speed. "It's literally freezing, Anya."

"SHUT UP, BECKY."

The moment the bell rang, Becky snatched Anya's wrist and DRAGGED her to the cafeteria.

"You're telling me EVERYTHING."

"There's nothing to tell—"

"He touched your FACE, Anya. With his HAND. The most annoying boy in school touched your face." Becky slammed their tray down. "Spill."

Anya blinked. "You hate him."

"I do. He's insufferable. Arrogant. Rich. Did I mention annoying?"

"Then why do you care?"

Becky grinned. "Because he's INSANELY obvious. The way he looks at you? Please. He's down BAD. I just want to watch him suffer until he finally confesses."

Anya stared. "...You're weird."

"I'm ENTERTAINED."

Just then, Damian walked into the cafeteria with his friends.

He spotted Anya.

Anya spotted him spotting her.

He immediately tripped over nothing.

Ewen caught his arm. "Dude, are you okay?!"

"FINE. I'M FINE. THE FLOOR IS JUST... UNEVEN."

The floor was perfectly even.

Anya tilted her head. "Why did he—"

Becky kicked her under the table. "Don't question it. Just WATCH."

Damian walked past their table. He didn't look at Anya. He didn't look at Anya. He was NOT going to look at Anya—

"Hi, Sy-on boy~"

He stopped.

Becky whispered loudly: "Here we go."

Damian's eye twitched. "...Forger."

"Nice weather we're having."

"It's raining."

"I know." Anya grinned. "Just wanted to hear you talk."

Damian's soul left his body.

Becky put her face in her hands. "Oh my god, he's so pathetic. I love it."

"I— you— WHAT—" Damian spun around and walked directly into a pillar.

THUD.

Becky cackled. "AGAIN?!"

His friends rushed to help him.

Anya tilted her head, confused. "Why does he keep walking into things?"

Becky grabbed her shoulders. "Anya. Sweetie. Use your brain. He's not walking into things. He's walking into YOU. Metaphorically. And also literally into that pillar."

Anya blinked. "I don't get it."

Becky sighed dramatically. "You're hopeless. Both of you."

Anya looked over at Damian, who was still on the floor, face red, being helped up by Ewen.

She could hear his thoughts clearly:

"Why does she do this to me. Why does she SAY things like that. 'Just wanted to hear you talk' — who SAYS that?! She's so— she's so— I don't even know. Annoying. Yes. Annoying. Definitely not cute. NOT cute. ...Okay maybe a little cute. NO."

Anya smiled.

"You're thinking very loudly again, Second Son."

From the floor, Damian wheezed: "I HATE YOU."

"No, you don't~"

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