CHAPTER 1
I hate this town.
And my hatred has nothing to do with the people who live here. Or because there’s nothing special about it. Maybe there is. I don’t know. I don’t care.
I hate this place because of one person.
The boy who ruined my life in middle school.
The boy who scarred me that summer.
Hayes Griffin.
As wealthy as his parents are, they still didn’t move away from this town—even though they’ve traveled the world. And to make matters worse, I’ll be attending the same high school as him.
Hayes Griffin.
The bane of my existence.
The one person I have loathed for years.
All because my mom thinks this school is perfect for me. A prestigious private school. One that’s supposed to shape me into something better. Something acceptable. Something I’m not.
Four years ago, Hayes tricked me into believing he could change.
I was stupid enough to trust him.
Stupid enough to believe he liked me.
And now, every time I think back to that day, I ask myself the same question:
How could I have been that fucking naive?
How could I have trusted the one person I should have known better than to trust?
The only answer I ever come up with is this:
I was fourteen.
And Hayes Griffin was a big deal.
And I wanted—desperately—for him to like me.
Because a part of me liked him more than I ever wanted to admit.
I was so fucking stupid.
So fucking na?ve.
The day after Hayes and his friends beat me up, he told everyone at camp that I tried to force myself on him. That I made him drink alcohol. That I was some kind of pervert.
I tried to defend myself.
No one believed me.
He knew they wouldn’t.
Hayes Griffin had everyone exactly where he wanted them.
I got kicked out of camp with people whispering, laughing, calling me names I still hear in my sleep.
I’ve hated him ever since.
The bullying in middle school? I brushed it off back then. My pubescent, confused heart wanted the last person it should’ve wanted, so I ignored the cruelty. I ignored the warning signs.
When he talked to me that day at summer camp, I wanted to please him so badly it made my chest ache. I would’ve done anything he asked. Anything at all—as long as he liked me back.
And he knew it.
He knew I liked him before I even understood what I was feeling, and he used that against me.
That summer forced me to face the truth: I liked Hayes Griffin.
And the realization made me sick.
I was terrified of what my parents would think if they found out I kissed a boy—and worse, that I liked it.
My parents weren’t homophobic. But when they heard about what happened, they assumed Hayes must have forced me. Threatened me.
They still don’t know the truth.
They don’t know I kissed him back.
They don’t know I wanted it.
They don’t know I liked it.
And I never told them.
Thinking about that day now makes me want to claw my eyes out and punch myself in the face.
So fucking stupid.
Dad died three weeks after I came back from summer camp.
It was hell.
My father was my best friend, and then he was just… gone. I was fourteen, drowning in grief, still reeling from what Hayes did to me, and suddenly I had to learn how to exist without the one person who made everything feel safe.
Mom decided it was time to leave town.
I didn’t argue. I wasn’t planning on going back to school anyway—not after what Hayes had done. Not when I knew everyone would look at me like I was some kind of goddamn predator.
Hayes made sure of that.
After Dad’s funeral, we packed up our lives and moved to New York to start over.
And for a while, it worked.
Now, four years later, we’re back.
Mom said she missed the peace and quiet. Said she wanted to come home. She convinced her new husband, Mark, to move back here with her, and he agreed without hesitation.
I was furious.
We’d escaped this place. I thought I was done with it. Done with the memories. Done with the version of myself that existed here. So how could she drag us back? How could she bring me right back to the town I swore I’d never return to?
But things have changed.
I noticed it the moment we crossed the town line.
And more importantly—I’ve changed.
I’m not the boy I was four years ago.
My medium-length blond hair is gone, replaced with a buzz cut kept deliberately short.
Puberty hit hard, stretching me to six-one, broadening my shoulders, hardening edges I didn’t even know I had.
My arms are inked with scattered tattoos, and a small cluster of flying birds curves up the side of my neck.
Silver studs line my ears, and a thin hoop pierces the left side of my nose.
I look nothing like the kid Hayes Griffin destroyed.
Staring out the passenger window of my stepfather’s Tesla, my gaze lands on the imposing structure of Crestview Preparatory. Dread coils in my stomach as students stream toward the entrance in pairs—gray trousers or pleated skirts, light blue shirts, gray vests, dark blue blazers, and maroon ties.
Perfect. Polished. Untouchable.
I attended Dalton Middle School on scholarship after Dad got sick. We couldn’t afford the fees anymore. Crestview Prep, though, is nothing like Dalton. This is where wealthy families send their children because they believe money guarantees a better future.
Mom wanted me here. Said she was doing it for my own good. Said this school would give me opportunities I wouldn’t get anywhere else.
And thanks to her new husband—a neurosurgeon—she could now afford the outrageous tuition without blinking.
I didn’t want to come here.
But saying no to my mom means a fight. And fighting with her means yelling, slammed doors, thrown words that cut deeper than fists—and then days of silence.
Sometimes weeks.
I slip a cigarette between my lips, flicking my lighter until the flame catches.
“You’re gonna smoke in Dad’s car?”
The voice makes me turn.
Fuck.
I’d forgotten my stepsister, Harper, was still sitting beside me.
“You’re not gonna say shit, are you?” I ask, exhaling smoke through my nostrils before dragging another breath into my lungs.
Harper rolls her eyes and slips her phone into her backpack.
“You’re always gonna be a jerk, huh?” she says. “And just so you know, smoking is gonna kill you fast.”
I scoff, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Harper and her dad—Mark—are good people. I didn’t think I’d like them when Mom introduced Mark to me three years ago. I’d already decided anyone she brought home would be a disappointment.
Turns out, I was wrong.
Mark isn’t the monster I wanted him to be. Neither is Harper. If anything, I think they deserve better than us. Better than my mom.
After Dad died, Mom spiraled. She drank before, but afterward, it got ugly. Some nights she’d leave me with her older sister and disappear—only to come back three days later. Sometimes a week.
She was a shitty mom.
Then she met Mark.
She says he was the best thing that happened to her after Dad’s death, and for once, she wasn’t lying. The men she dated before him were all fucking awful. Mark wasn’t.
She went to therapy. Started AA. Checked herself into rehab. Slowly, she got better.
They got married two and a half years ago, and I’ve never seen her happier. Not even when she was with my father.
And I am happy for her. Truly.
But when she tried to rebuild a mother–son relationship with me after she got sober, I shut her out. Every conversation turns into a fight. Especially when I come home late at night with bruised ribs or wake up with a black eye.
She asks questions I don’t want to answer.
Like I said—things have changed.
I’m not the timid boy I was four years ago.
I’m something else now.
Something more dangerous.
“You should get going,” I tell Harper, pulling the cigarette from my mouth and blowing smoke into the air. “You’ll miss homeroom.”
“What about you?” she asks.
“I’ll be right behind you.” I flash her a grin. “Unless you wanna wait while I finish this.” I lift the cigarette for emphasis before slipping it back between my lips.
“God, no,” she groans, unlocking the door. “You know how much I hate the smell of that.”
She steps out, then pauses.
“See you later, big brother.”
The door shuts behind her as she heads toward the school entrance.
I sigh and let my head fall back against the car seat, staring at the roof as I exhale the last of the smoke. I flick the cigarette butt out the open window, grab the air freshener, and spray it aggressively to mask the smell before rolling the windows up.
I adjust the rearview mirror and stare at my reflection for a second—long enough to remind myself I’m not that kid anymore—then unlock the door and step out.
I groan under my breath, already wishing I could rip this uniform off my body and be anywhere else. I look like a fucking idiot, even without the tie I flat-out refused to wear.
I start toward the school entrance when a sleek black Bentley pulls into the parking lot.
I stop.
The sign above the space reads:
GRIFFIN.
My heart drops straight to my feet.
A driver steps out and opens the back door, and then—
Him.
The world slows, like someone hit pause on everything except us. Every sound dulls. Every other student fades into background noise as Hayes Griffin steps out of the car.
He looks like a goddamn prince climbing out of luxury.
Heads turn. Whispers ripple through the lot. People always treat him like royalty. He walks like the world belongs to him—like even the ground beneath his feet knows better than to challenge him.
And it doesn’t help that he looks… good.
No.
Worse than good.
Hayes Griffin is nothing like the boy I remember.
The version of him standing there now is devastatingly attractive. Even in the same school uniform I’m wearing, everything on him looks expensive—tailored. A gold watch that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe glints at his wrist. He’s taller now. Broader. Maybe even my height.
Black stud earrings line his ears, giving him that rich, dangerous edge people eat up. His dark hair is slightly tousled, bangs parted down the middle, brushing his brows like he woke up already flawless.
How the fuck is he hotter than I remember?
My jaw tightens.
God, I fucking hate him.
With a Korean mother and a white father, Hayes’s looks have always drawn attention wherever he goes.
He’s the kind of person who makes people stare when he walks past—unable not to.
And nothing feeds his arrogance more than knowing how undeniably attractive he is, knowing that everyone—boys, girls, men, women—adores him.
What a dick.
Hayes lifts a hand and runs it through his hair as he turns his head—and then his gaze lands on me.
He freezes.
So do I.
My heart rate spikes for no reason I’m willing to admit as we stare at each other across the parking lot. I don’t know what I’m feeling, only that it’s a messy mix of nostalgia, anger, irritation… and something else I can’t quite name.
There’s something in his dark eyes I can’t read.
But there’s also something familiar.
Shock.
He didn’t expect to see me again after the day he lied about me. After the day I got kicked out of summer camp and my life fell apart.
Hayes opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something—but before he can, a girl throws herself at him.
She’s dressed in the school uniform, polished and expensive-looking. Rich. Confident. Probably his girlfriend.
As if to confirm it, she grips the front of his blazer, pulls him down, and kisses him.
I look away.
I keep walking toward the school entrance, refusing to let myself slow down. I want to believe things will turn out fine here. That this year will be different.
But I already know better.
Not when the boy I hate will be everywhere.
In every hallway.
In most of my classes.
If I didn’t hate this school already, I fucking hate it now.
Senior year just suddenly sucked.