03 another project

Max’s POV

Luna Klein walks into class, and my eyes betray me, locking onto her as she heads to her desk. Her lips are pressed thin, her gaze fixed forward, radiating discomfort under the weight of everyone’s stares. It’s not just me—classmates flick their eyes her way, some lingering, others quick and dismissive. The guys look at her like she’s a rare painting they can’t afford, irritation simmering beneath their awe. The girls? Their glances are sharper, laced with envy or disdain, like they’re cataloging her outfit just to pick it apart later.

She’s in high-top Chuck Taylors, plaid Capri trousers, and a blazer over a loose t-shirt. Effortless, but it works. I’ve seen her on TV, the pampered daughter of billionaire Lucas Klein and superstar Cassie Castillo. I figured she’d be a spoiled brat, and after yesterday’s chemistry lab, I’m convinced she’s arrogant too. She brushed me off like I was a nuisance, shutting down every attempt I made to be friendly. It pissed me off.

Still, there’s something about her that pulls everyone’s attention, including mine. She’s pretty—prettier in person than on screen, with shoulder-length brown hair, tanned skin, and those chocolate eyes that don’t scream anything special. Nothing about her is extraordinary, yet I can’t look away. Her vanilla scent hit me yesterday, sweet and warm, like fresh-baked cookies, and it’s lingering in my head now. Fucking distracting.

I force my eyes down as she settles at her desk, right in front of me. She dives into note-taking as Mr. Grint starts the lesson, scribbling like her life depends on it. It’s almost comical—does she write down everything? I don’t bother with notes unless it’s critical. I listen, let it sink in. Dad’s the same way; I got it from him.

By the end of class, Mr. Grint drops a new assignment. “Submit by Thursday, same pairs as last time. Pick a biography, read it, and highlight issues or facts needing more depth. Your partner gives their take on your points, and vice versa. It’ll add to your previous team project score.”

I bite back a groan. Of course, I’m stuck with Luna again. “Mr. Cooper, you’ll pair with Ms. Klein, since she hasn’t got a partner,” Grint says, like it’s a surprise.

Fucking perfect. She’s barely tolerable, and now I’m tethered to her for another project. I hope she’s less of a wall this time—teamwork’s a nightmare when your partner won’t talk.

After Grint leaves, I approach her desk as the lunch break buzzes around us. “Bad news, huh?” My tone’s sharper than yesterday, no trace of the friendliness I tried before. “Not like I have a choice. Wish I did.”

I expect her to snap back, but her expression catches me off guard. Guilt flickers in her eyes, like she’s apologizing without words. It’s disarming, and I hate how it softens my edge. That pitiful look she gives me? I don’t need it. “Just get this done fast,” I mutter. “You picking the book or what? Library’s got plenty.”

Her eyes widen, panic flashing. “No, not the library,” she says quickly, like the idea’s toxic.

I narrow my eyes, watching her swallow hard. What’s her deal? Scared of being seen with me? Like the tabloids will scream, Luna Klein Spotted with Nobody in Library? Maybe her parents should’ve hired her a bodyguard to fend off imaginary paparazzi.

“I’ve got a better idea,” she says, her voice small. “There’s a bookstore I like. Lots of biography options.”

I shrug, uninterested as long as we finish this. She fidgets, tapping her fingers on the desk. “So… I’ll meet you after school?”

“I’ve got football tryouts,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

She blinks, surprised, but recovers fast. “That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

“Fine.” I turn, joining the group of classmates waiting to drag me to lunch. “Come on, man, I’m starving,” one says, slinging an arm around me. “Try the Italian.”

I love Italian, but my stomach’s craving something else—damn cookies, thanks to Luna’s scent. Blame her.

Luna’s POV

Ten Disney soundtracks. I’ve played them all on the music room’s piano since Max headed to his football tryout. My brother drilled Disney into me before I was even born, and it stuck. A sigh escapes as I check my watch. How long do tryouts take? I curse myself for not getting Max’s number to text him.

There’s only one way to meet him now: the football field. My stomach twists. Tyler will be there. Seeing him still tightens my chest, a reminder of the toxic fallout from last year. I’m tired of this school, this isolation, but I can’t let it ruin my grades. The English assignment matters, so I’ll face the field, Tyler or not.

Max’s words from yesterday echo: Can we be friends? I shut him down, and I hate myself for it. He didn’t deserve that, but I had no choice. Friends are a luxury I can’t afford—not when it’d make me a bigger target. If Max got close, he’d be ostracized too. I won’t drag him into my mess.

Taking a deep breath, I stand from the piano bench. Grades over feelings. I’ll find Max, avoid Tyler, and get to the bookstore. That’s the plan. But as I step toward the door, my heart races, dreading the field and the memories waiting there.