AVALINE–
If there was a trophy for "Worst Decision of the Weekend,"
I'd already be shining it on the shelf next to my worn-out sketch pencils.
Lying to Mom? Check.
Letting Bella talk me into a dress that felt more like a napkin? Double check.
Going to Alexander Worthington's victory party, of all places? I deserved a crown.
After the chaos of Saturday night, Bella and I had gone back to her place, too wired from the music and drama to sleep immediately. Josh, completely wasted, had to be dragged away from a group of girls. We dropped him on Bella's ridiculously soft couch like a sack of potatoes. Her driver took me home later the next night — not too late to avoid Mom's sharp look, but late enough.
I'd mumbled a tired "goodnight," on Sunday night and dodged eye contact, ate a few bites of whatever was left on the dinner table, and practically collapsed into bed.
So, on Monday morning, I sat at the breakfast table in our tiny kitchen trying to look like the picture of innocence.
My brother, Simon, was already there, loudly crunching on cereal like he was auditioning to be a human sound effect.
He was watching some obnoxious YouTuber on his phone, earbuds in, lip-syncing along with fake explosions and exaggerated screams.
Mom slid a cup of tea in front of me with narrowed eyes.
"So…" she said slowly, like the word had a second part. "How was studying with Bella?"
"Productive," I replied, way too quickly. "Lots of… essays."
Simon snorted. I kicked him under the table.
"Really? Because you didn't come back until after ten," Mom said, folding her arms.
"Time flew. You know how Bella is. She plays... a lot."
"I do know how Bella is," Mom muttered, sipping her coffee.
I focused on my toast like it was the most fascinating thing I'd ever seen.
Simon raised his brow and mouthed "busted" at me, then stuffed three spoonfuls of cereal in his mouth at once. I didn't dignify that with a response.
Thankfully, I survived breakfast with no more questions, just one of Mom's "We'll talk later" looks, which might actually be worse.
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School was no better.
I slipped into the mixed Arts and Science "Current World Issues" class — a chaotic attempt by the school board to get both streams to engage with the "real world." Whatever that meant.
Unfortunately, I was late.
"Miss Beaufort," the teacher called out before I could even shut the door. "So glad you've decided to join us."
Laughter bubbled from the back rows.
Heat rushed up my neck and looked for Bella. She was already seated and gave me a tiny shrug and mouthed "sorry" with an apologetic smile. Josh, beside her, gave me a sheepish grin like he still remembered being deadweight on her couch.
I slid into an empty seat and tried to melt into it.
When I opened my notebook, a small folded paper fluttered out and landed on my lap.
Curious, I opened it discreetly.
> Meet me in the Garden Courtyard after class.
– Worthington.
I blinked.
Worthington?
I glanced around and spotted him a few rows behind me, casually reading his textbook like he didn't just leave a mysterious note. Typical.
Still… Thank God he showed up. Finally, we could talk about this project. I didn't care how aloof he was — we needed to get it done.
Before I could think more, the teacher called my name again. "Miss Beaufort, if the floor is that fascinating, would you mind sharing it with the class?"
More laughter.
I sat up straight, my cheeks on fire. The clock couldn't tick fast enough.
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The final bell rang, loud and relieving. I started gathering my books into my tote, half-listening to the quiet chatter of people brushing past my desk. The weight of the day hung on my shoulders, and all I wanted was my mom's baked cookies and the safety of my room.
"Hey," Bella leaned in, her glossed lips curling into a smirk. "You coming with us?"
I hesitated, stuffing my sketchbook between my chemistry notebook and my assignment. "No… I have to meet Worthington"
Josh smiled at me. "You mean Alex?"
"Yeah," I said softly, almost like I didn't want the name to sit on my tongue for too long.
Bella raised a brow, unimpressed. "Finally, you can now do the stupid project and be free my love. Good luck surviving that."
I gave a small laugh. "Thanks. I'll need it."
"well his a little kinda cool" Josh added with a wink.
"Suree, Goodnight guys," I said playfully, waving them off as they headed toward the parking lot.
Once the hallway thinned out, I made my way across the quiet campus, the late sun casting shadows over the familiar path to the courtyard garden. It was quiet there—almost too peaceful for something as awkward as this.
The garden had a few old iron benches scattered beneath arching vines and half-kept roses. The smell of damp leaves clung to the air, and the wind tugged gently at my skirt.
And there he was.
Alex Worthington stood near the edge of a bench, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a book like it was more interesting than the entire human population. His tie was loose, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top, and his posture—careless, confident, infuriatingly composed.
He didn't even look up until I was a few feet away. And when he did, it was like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
"Hi," I said first, voice gentle and unsure.
He blinked, clearly unimpressed. "Hey." The word came out low, almost like it pained him.
"Alright then".
I walked past him, choosing the bench a bit farther away, putting space between us like a shield. My fingers gripped the edge of the seat, and I tried to ignore the awkward silence spreading between us like a thick fog.
"I didn't think you'd actually show," he said finally, still not looking at me.
"Well," I replied with a small, awkward smile, "you left a note. Figured it wasn't optional also I will always show up if it was about my college recommend."
He scoffed. "Trust me, I didn't want to either. You think I had a choice? Mr. Dawson clearly hates me."
"Or maybe he just thought someone had to teach you patience," I mumbled under my breath.
Alex turned his head sharply. "What was that?"
I looked down at my fingers. "Nothing."
He stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "Look, just don't slow me down, alright? I've got things to do and I don't plan on babysitting someone who can barely speak above a whisper."
That one stung.
I swallowed. "And I don't plan on working with someone who thinks breathing is a favor to everyone else."
He raised a brow. "Wow. Big words for someone like you"
I blinked at him, trying not to flinch. "That's rich coming from someone who throws money and arrogance around like it's a personality trait."
He gave a mocking laugh. "Oh, come on. You really think you're going to survive a project with me? This little act—you acting like you actually have something useful to say—it's tiring already."
My breath caught, cheeks warming. But I didn't back down.
"You know what?" I stood, voice still quiet but sharp like ice. "At this point, I don't think I can work with someone like you, because you make me sick and irritated."
Alex tilted his head, lips curling like I'd amused him. "Finally, some honesty."
I didn't wait for him to say more. I turned on my heel, my heart hammering in my chest, and walked away before he could see the heat in my eyes—not tears, just anger.
Pure, burning anger.
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I got home, the silence welcomed me like an old friend. The front door gave a soft creak as I stepped inside, dropping my backpack gently by the shoe rack. No sounds. No scent of food. Just the ticking of the hallway clock and the soft hum of the fridge.
"Mom?" I called, even though I already knew the answer. "Simon?"
Nothing.
I sighed, kicked off my shoes, and trudged toward the kitchen. The counter had a note — Mom's handwriting.
"Running errands. Simon has practice. There's stew in the fridge."
Simple. Normal. Comforting.
I warmed up the stew, barely tasted it. My mind wouldn't stop replaying the courtyard. His expression. His words. That smug, cold look in his eyes like I was the most inconvenient thing to happen to his day.
After dinner, I headed upstairs, peeled off my school clothes, and stepped into the shower. The water should've calmed me, but all it did was swirl the frustration around.
Him.
I got into my pajamas, tied my hair up, and curled into the couch with my phone. I didn't expect Bella to call so quickly — but the moment the screen lit up with Bella💅, I picked up.
"Babyyyy," she said immediately. "How did it go with him?"
I rolled my eyes. "Not good at all. He's just… insufferable."
"Oop. What did he say?"
"What didn't he say?" I let out a frustrated breath. "He looked at me like I smelled bad or something. Called me dumb. Basically made it clear he hates being paired with me."
Bella went quiet for a second. "Wait, he called you dumb?"
"Yeah. And said he regretted being stuck with me. Like I begged Mr. Dawson to assign him to me or something."
"Ugh. What a walking ego. I always knew he was weirdly smart, but that's just gross behavior."
"Right?" I sank deeper into the couch cushion, hugging the throw pillow to my chest. "And I swear, I tried. I greeted him. Sat down. Tried to break the awkwardness. But he just kept… being mean."
Bella sighed. "Do you want me to throw soda at him in the cafeteria tomorrow? Because I will."
I smiled weakly. "Tempting. But no."
She paused. "So… what now? Are you still going to work with him?"
I hesitated, staring at the wall. "Honestly? I don't know. But I'm definitely talking to Mr. Dawson tomorrow. I want a different partner. I can't do this with someone who makes me feel like I'm in the wrong for existing."
Bella's voice softened. "Good. You don't need that kind of energy, Avi."
"Thanks." My voice came out a little tired.
"Want to rant more? Or should I let you rest?"
"I'll rant tomorrow. Just—thank you."
"Anytime. Sleep early. And remember — you're brilliant. He's just… dumb in expensive shoes."
That made me laugh. "Goodnight, Bella."
"Night, baby girl."
I ended the call and lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling.
Yeah. Tomorrow, I'd fix this. Because I wasn't going to let someone like Alexander Worthington ruin my shot at Princeton—or my peace of mind.
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