MERIDA's POV
This morning, I got a text from an unknown number saying Lexi's parents were mafia bosses.
I thought about tracking who sent it, but honestly? That's a waste of time. Whoever it is, it's definitely someone from our class who knows about my feud with Lexi. Someone stirring the pot. And you know what? I don't even care who. Because I can use this.
If I spread this around, people will be disgusted. Imagine going to school alongside the daughter of some illegal gambler or killer who launders blood money through Fly Asia. The perfect "prestigious" family business? Please. People will eat this up.
And the best part? Lexi loses her leverage over me.
Stupid girl. If I were her, I would've made me kneel and kiss her shoes before deleting the dirt she had on me. But no. I just irritated her a bit and she folded. Weak.
Sure, she's smart academically. But when it comes to tactics? To power plays? She's clueless. Unlike me. Sometimes I feel like I should build a statue of myself and let everyone worship me. Honestly, just thinking about it makes me smile.
People think they're my "friends." They're not. They're just pawns. Poor, desperate pawns I can use whenever I want.
Like Mariah. That pathetic bitch. The only reason I didn't make her my full-time slave before was because she always ran to Lexi for protection. And no, I'm not scared of Lexi. I'll never admit that. She just happens to have leverage over me, so I keep my distance… for now.
And it's all thanks to Edward, that idiot. If he hadn't tried to get handsy with me at school of all places, none of that scandal would've happened. He wasn't even worth it. Next time, if I ever "entertain" anyone, it won't be in public.
And no—I'm not a whore. People force me into these situations, and sometimes, I just give in because… I don't know. Maybe pity.
I shook the thoughts away as I walked toward the locker room after practice. The cheer dance competition is coming up right after finals, so we've been practicing nonstop.
As Class 12-A's cheer captain, I have a lot on my plate.
The moment I stepped inside the locker room, I felt someone following close behind. I ignored it—until a hand grabbed my wrist.
"Merida, can we talk?" It was Shawn.
I turned, raising a brow. "Talk about what?"
He followed me into the girls' locker room without hesitation.
"Come back to me. I don't want Mariah. You know that, right?"
I stared at him. "Seriously, Shawn?" After everything? After what he's been doing with her?
"I mean it," he insisted. "Please."
"You think you can just walk back into my life after everything? After ruining everything? You're not worth it, Shawn." My voice rose; frustration tightened my chest.
"I'm miserable without you. You don't know what it's been like."
Miserable? I nearly laughed. He wasn't miserable when he was all over Mariah. That bitch. Do I blame him? Or her? Or both?
Before I could answer, the locker room door creaked. My instincts kicked in—I shoved Shawn inside my open locker to hide him, just as Sandra walked in.
"Merida, you're not heading home yet?" she asked, peeling off her cheer uniform until she was down to just her underwear.
She glanced at me when she noticed I was still fully dressed. "Aren't you changing?"
I quickly stripped off my top and hung it inside the locker, pretending everything was normal. As I unzipped my skirt, I felt Shawn's hand slide between my thighs from the shadows of the locker. My breath hitched as his fingers pressed against me, a soft, deliberate squeeze stealing my focus.
"Merida? Are you okay? Your face is red," Sandra asked, tilting her head.
I nodded quickly, turning toward the locker to hide my expression. "It's just… hot." My voice came out strained, almost shaky.
Sandra shrugged. "Alright. I'll head out. We've got a family dinner." She left, and the door shut with a soft thud.
The moment she was gone, Shawn stepped out of the locker and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was urgent, desperate. My knees felt weak. I melted into him despite myself, my back meeting the cold steel of the locker with a shiver.
His hands traced my sides as I hooked one leg around his hip. He hesitated, eyes meeting mine as if asking for permission. I gave a small nod.
A sharp gasp escaped me when he slid into me. The world blurred, my legs trembling as he lifted me, my arms wrapping around his neck, both legs locking around his waist. His movements were deep, relentless, and I had to bite down on my lip to muffle the sounds rising in my throat.
"Quiet… someone might hear us," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
He lowered me onto a bench, sitting down as I straddled him. My movements started slow, measured, until they built into a steady rhythm, each motion pulling me closer to the edge. His hands slid beneath my sports bra, fingers teasing as his mouth found my skin, drawing out a soft, involuntary moan.
The tension snapped, leaving me shaking and breathless, barely able to support myself. He turned me, pressing me against the cool wall, his pace picking up again until my knees gave way entirely, leaving me weak and trembling on the floor.
He guided himself into my mouth, and I obliged, the taste of salt and heat lingering as I worked him until his breath caught and he finally released.
We stayed there, panting softly, until he grabbed tissues from my locker, cleaning me first, then himself.
And then—clapping.
I froze. My stomach dropped as I saw Lexi and Zeke standing by the door, smirks plastered across their faces.
"Relax," Lexi drawled. "We're just here to grab the camera we left."
Camera. My blood ran cold.
"Nice performance, Shawn," Zeke taunted. Shawn's jaw tightened, fists clenching, but he said nothing.
"Found it!" Lexi's voice rang out as she retrieved a small camera hidden near the vents. So that's her game.
Rage burned in my chest. Does she do this all the time? Does she have recordings of all of us changing, showering—everything? She could get arrested for this.
As if reading my thoughts, Lexi smirked. "Thinking of suing? Sorry, sweetheart. I'm still a minor. Can't touch me."
My nails dug into my palms as they left, my body still trembling—not from Shawn this time, but from fury and dread.
This is bad.
I thought deleting that last video freed me. But I was wrong. I practically handed Lexi new ammunition myself.
I'm feeding the monster. Every mistake, every slip—I'm the one giving her power over me. And if she ever decides to pull the trigger? I'd rather die than face that humiliation.
But I can't let her win. I won't. I'm not scared of her—I refuse to be.
The only smart move now is to avoid her. Stay out of her radar. And never, ever slip again.
Let her take Mariah if she wants. I don't care about that bitch. I despise them both equally.
Rotten apples, the both of them. Beautiful on the outside. Rotten to the core.