If karma had a face, it would be flipping me off right now.
There I was, standing outside Royal Crest Academy, a place so fancy it looked like the set of one of those high school drama series where everyone's way too attractive and apparently no one ever actually studies. My reflection in the glass doors screamed "nervous transfer student with zero chill", and honestly? It wasn't wrong.
"Okay, Ariella. You've got this," I told myself, trying to channel main-character energy. "New name, new school, no drama. You'll be invisible. A ghost. A socially invisible, extremely cute ghost."
I took a deep breath, adjusted my ridiculously stiff school blazer, and pushed open the doors.
Big mistake.
It was like entering the lion's den. Heads turned. People stared. Somewhere in the distance, I swear a girl dropped her lip gloss in slow motion. The place was full of designer shoes, flawless faces, and groups of students who looked like they were auditioning for the next Netflix teen show.
"New girl alert," someone whispered, and boom — every eye in the hallway zeroed in on me like I was the season's freshest gossip.
Kill me now.
I walked to the front desk where a woman with the world's tightest bun and a scowl that could curdle milk looked up.
"Name?" she asked, in a tone that suggested she'd rather be anywhere else.
"Ariella Grey," I said, flashing a smile I totally didn't mean. Not my real name, but hey — after the incident, a name change was the least of my life updates.
She handed me my schedule, a map of the school (which was basically the size of a small city), and a polite little warning: "Stay out of trouble."
Yeah, sure, lady. If only life worked like that.
Plot twist number one: Five minutes later, while studying the map like it was written in ancient Greek, I slammed into a brick wall. Except, plot twist number two — it wasn't a wall. It was a person. A tall, infuriatingly good-looking person who smelled unfairly amazing.
Books, papers, dignity — everything flew.
"Watch it, new girl," a voice drawled, deep, smooth, and annoyingly attractive.
I looked up, ready to yell — and paused. Hazel eyes. Jawline so sharp it could slice diamonds. Messy dark hair that probably took zero effort. He was basically a walking romance cliché, and for a terrifying second, my brain forgot how to form words.
"Maybe you should watch where you're going," I shot back, because no way was I letting some ridiculously hot jerk get the last word.
He smirked. And dear universe, that smirk was a problem. The kind that said "I ruin lives for fun."
"Feisty. I like it," he said, casually handing me my notebook.
Somewhere inside, my inner self was screaming: "NOPE, NOPE, NOPE, DO NOT FALL FOR THIS ONE." But my traitorous heart skipped a beat anyway.
I grabbed my stuff, shooting him a glare. "Try not to get too attached."
"Too late," he called after me as I stomped away, cheeks on fire.
Plot twist number three: The same name was at the top of my Chemistry partner list. Zayne Carter.
Because of course it was.
Welcome to Royal Crest, Ariella Grey — where your new life is about to be just as messy as the old one, but with better outfits and hotter problems.