Tears spring to my eyes, mixing with the water. My heart tightens, suffocating with my lungs.

“Come out,” he challenges, as if I’m a bet he’s trying to win. “Show me your ugly face—your only face. Stop pretending you’re a saint when the devil runs in your veins.”

I flail my arms around, trying to protect my face.

It doesn’t work.

For a second, I feel like I’ll die. I can’t face death twice in one day and come out victorious.

He cuts off the water. I gasp on air, panting and choking on my own breaths.

Oxygen burns the more I gulp it in.

“Are you going to stop this nice-person game?” His voice is so low it’s threatening.

“I…I’m n-not…pretending. I’ve changed.” The old Reina isn’t me anymore.

Water splashes my face again. “Wrong answer.”

I gurgle on unsaid words as I gasp and fail to breathe.

God. I think my lungs will bail on me.

“We’ll try again. When I turn off the water, I want you to…” He trails off. “No. You love dares, so let’s do it your way. I dare you to be who you truly are.”

The water stops. I gasp in as much air as I can, knowing it probably won’t last me for long before he asphyxiates me again.

With all the defiance I can muster, I stare him in the eyeballs. “This is me, the only me. If you’re too afraid to accept that then fuck you, Ash.”

His hold on the knob falters for a brief second before he points the showerhead in my direction again.

I take one last breath, bracing myself for the hit, but I don’t close my eyes. I’m going to glare at him as he does it.

I’m going to look straight into his empty soul and make sure he sees my fight.

Reina Ellis wasn’t born to be trampled on.

Instead of drowning me, he steps away.

“I promise you one thing. You will break.” The coldness of his eyes nearly freezes me.

But it doesn’t.

I don’t let it.

I jut out my chin. “Never.”

His eyes twinkle with something unreadable before he turns around and leaves.

I slump to the floor, all soaked as I catch my breath.

In this moment, I dare to make a promise to myself.

College and gossip won’t break me.

Whoever trapped me won’t break me.

No one will.

Asher included.

“Ignore them, Reina.” Lucy rubs the side of my arm as if that will make the goosebumps go away.

Everyone in the cafeteria is staring at us. Or rather, they’re staring at me. Since that incident two days ago, I’ve been called every name possible.

People are starting to take pictures of my every move and sending them to that shady Instagram account.

I hate that I subconsciously search all around me as if expecting someone to jump at me.

It’s like everyone waited for this moment to roast me. Even those who remain silent are secretly appreciating my fall from grace.

“Let’s sit with the football team?” Lucy prompts with a beaming smile.

At the far end of the cafeteria, the football team and some of the cheerleading squad sit together—Bree included.

Of course, Asher is with his jerk friends.

Everyone laughs and plays around. Not him. His entire attention is on me as if he’s been watching me since I walked in.

It’s a thing he does, watching me without being obvious, like I’m the center of his focus. The pent-up energy hangs between us like a threat, irrational and unchained.

It’s stupid, isn’t it? I’m not supposed to feel a connection with an asshole who’s out to ruin my life.

I’m not supposed to watch him watch me at breakfast with Izzy or when he’s working out in the backyard.

I’m not supposed to stay up late just to see him return and stand by his car for a second too long, staring up at my window as if searching for something.

Or someone.

Now, our gazes clash and collide. Mine is defiant and unbending, his is challenging and quiet.

I can’t help the shivers bursting down my spine or the heat invading the tiniest pores of my skin.

Staring at Asher is beyond gazes and eyes. It’s a war with weapons, blood, and casualties. It’s impossible to predict who’ll lose and who’ll win.

One thing’s for certain: I’ll never raise the white flag.

I’ll pick my battles instead.

Breaking eye contact, I make a beeline toward a back table where the rest of the cheerleaders sit. ‘The less popular ones,’ as Bree so eloquently put it.

I smile when joy breaks out on the girls’ faces. I hate that the others put them down and that I never cared to see happiness on their faces before.

Lucy slides in beside me, shaking her head. “You do know you can’t avoid the main table forever, right?”

“I’m not avoiding it. I just don’t want to sit with them.” I take a bite of my pizza and chew slowly.

Screw salads. So what if I don’t get thrown in the air anymore? It’s not like I’ve been dying to return to that ‘epic’ position.

“Are you coming back to the captain position?” Cindy, a sophomore, asks with a timid voice.

“I don’t know.” And I really don’t. Cheerleading isn’t my goal in life. True, I’m still not sure what my actual goal is, but cheerleading is definitely not it.

Besides, this is senior year. They’ll have to elect a new captain soon. Doing it at the beginning or the end of the year shouldn’t make a difference.

My gaze strays to the ‘main’ table. Bree sits on Asher’s right, running her red-manicured fingers along his bicep…his strong, veiny bicep. She giggles at something he says like some silly teenager with a crush.

He’s eating while throwing glances her way.

Something boils in my bloodstream, turning it all hot and green.

How can Bree, who claims I’m her best friend, flirt with my fiancé right in front of me?

Not that I want to sit next to Asher. Ever.

But still, I don’t like people stepping all over me, especially fake friends like Bree.

“At this rate, there will be a division in the squad.” There’s a sadness in Lucy’s voice as she plays with a fork on her salad plate.

“Correction.” Naomi slams her plate down and sits across from me. She usually doesn’t even eat in the cafeteria. “Lucy is too nice to tell you there’s already a division in the squad.” Naomi points at the cheerleaders, the boys and girls sitting with Bree. “Bitch Uno’s Team.” She motions at our table. “Bitch Dos’ Team.”

The girls gasp, but Naomi isn’t done. She takes a bite of her pizza and speaks casually. “I wonder who will win. Actually, scratch that—you’re losing by forfeiting.”

“Stop it, Nao,” Lucy scolds.

“Nah, your captain seems to have buried her head in the sand like Little Miss Ostrich, so it’s time for a wake-up call.” Naomi throws her hands around. “Bree has been all over Asher like a snake and you’re letting her. She’s taking over the squad and you’re letting her. She’s snatching your position at this college and—OMG, shocker—you’re letting her. Hashtag fall of a queen.”