Angel's POV
Opening my eyes, I immediately wince as the sunlight slices into them like a blade. Ugh. My head's pounding—probably a lovely gift from crying myself to sleep last night.
Dragging myself out of bed like a zombie on a mission, I shuffle to the wardrobe. I pick the first decent shirt and trousers I lay my hands on, not in the mood to impress anyone, least of all him. Bathroom, freshen up, survive the day—rinse and repeat.
Heading downstairs, I press a peck to my mum's cheek, then my dad's, already halfway to the door when her voice stops me.
"Not having breakfast?"
"Yeah, not hungry. I'll take lunch when I get back."
She gives me that look. "You know we still have an unaddressed matter, right?"
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes into another dimension, I sigh. "Mum, I know. I didn't forget."
After the meltdown I had over Samuel, she tried asking what happened—but all I did was cry like an overdramatic soap opera character. She said we'd talk in the morning... I said, 'over my dead body.' Guess we're still on schedule.
"Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad."
"Wait, let me drive you," Dad offers.
"I'm fine. I'll take the bus."
"Okay. Take care, darling."
"Hmm," I mutter, barely audible, and walk out without looking back.
---
AT SCHOOL
First class? Torture. Add a persistent headache and a human megaphone named Elizabeth behind me? I deserved a medal just for staying seated. She wouldn't shut up—going on about the same thing like a damn parrot with a superiority complex.
I wanted to spin around and use my textbook to upgrade her face, but no. That would mean seeing Samuel, and I wasn't ready for that. Not today. Not until I could do so without crying or committing a crime. But if she dares cross me again, I swear I'll throw hands. And if I get suspended? So be it.
Another sharp pang hits my head and I groan. Focus, Angel. No beatdowns before noon.
Leaving class, I spot Lizzy waving me over like we're besties. I nearly ignored her, but my ears couldn't survive her screeching today. I stomp over with zero patience.
"What's it?"
"Good morning, Angel. How are you doing?"
Really? I blink at her. "We both know you don't care. So let's skip the fake niceties and get to the damn point before I evaporate from your annoying presence."
She fake-pouts. "Fine. I just wanted to ask if you've seen my love today."
Oh, hell no.
I pause—long enough to calm the fire in my chest, but not long enough to not let steam escape my nostrils. "I haven't seen him, and I don't care if he's dead in a ditch. So do us both a favor—fuck off and take your crusty-ass face with you before I upgrade it permanently." I shoot her a glare sharp enough to cut steel, then storm off.
---
LUNCH TIME
I settle into the cafeteria with the energy of a ghost. My eyes roam the room halfheartedly before I hear the scrape of a chair beside me. Turning my head, I see Success giving me her usual sunshine smile.
"Hey! How're you doing?"
"I'm fine," I say.
She squints. "Yeah, well, I can't say the same about how you look. You walked into class like you fought a demon in your dreams. And the way you went off earlier? Whew! Not the usual Angel."
I sigh. "I just didn't sleep well, that's all. But thanks for checking."
"Of course. What are friends for?"
I flash a tired smile and focus on shoveling food into my mouth. I needed to get out of there—fast—because if Samuel's already encountered his brat of a girlfriend, then he's probably on his way here. And I am not ready for that showdown.
Tray emptied, I drop it off and head outside... only to collide with what I assumed was a wall.
Except this wall wears clothes.
I blink up. Oh no.
Samuel.
Rage flares in my chest the moment our eyes meet. His face is practically begging for forgiveness—and I'm not about to hand that out like candy.
He thinks he can just show up and everything goes back to normal? Keep dreaming, sweetheart.
I shove past him, heading straight for the gate, already dialing my dad.
"Dad, are you coming today?"
"No, darling. I'm really swamped. Do you need a ride?"
Before I can answer, my phone is snatched out of my hand. I spin around, ready to yell bloody murder, only to find Samuel standing there like some smug knight in shining audacity.
"No sir, she's got a ride," he says sweetly into the phone.
"Give me my phone, you piece of shit!" I yell.
"Would you calm down? Let's just talk."
"Oh! So now I'm the mad one? That it?"
"I never said that," he replies, frowning.
"You didn't need to! You always act like you know everything, like you're the damn mind reader of the year." My voice cracks. "Now hand me my phone and get the hell out of my face."
"I really need to talk to you... Kitten."
I freeze.
That name.
He dares call me that? That name that used to feel like home? I blink back the tears forming in my eyes and glare at him through the hurt.
"Don't. Don't you ever call me that again."
His voice softens. "I'm really sorry for what I said. I regret it more than you'll ever know. Please... just forgive me."
"I won't. And I don't want to be friends with you again."
"Kitten, please... I'm begging. Let me make it right. Just one chance. That's all I need."
I sniff, voice barely a whisper. "Fine. But after this, leave me the hell alone. Stop showing up. Stop disturbing me."
"Okay. I will. But first... I'm taking you home."
I glare. "Even if I was still mad at you—which, spoiler alert: I am—you still planned to take me home since you hijacked my ride."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Get in the car."