I Refuse To Like You

I pull into the school parking lot with music rattling my windows, some punk track I don’t even like anymore but refuse to delete because Kieran hates it.

Ever Best High hasn’t changed. Same faded parking lines, same smell of exhaust and sharp perfume, same idiots blocking traffic to hug people they saw two weeks ago. A freshman sprints past my bumper, tie flapping probably late already.

Huh? Since when do they wear a tie?

Hmm. Must be another weird Gen Z trend. Tsk, tsk. Kids these days.

Anyway, I made it to the final semester of high school. The finale of dealing with Kieran. By graduation I’ll never have to see Kieran Lockwood again.

…

Tsk. Who am I kidding?

Our parents have been friends forever, so that weed is never getting uprooted. I seriously detest him, though. Nobody remembers why we hate each other and we both stopped caring.

I check Kieran’s space. It’s empty. Nice! I get a few more minutes of air before he shows up. It’d be great if he never came to school.

Kieran and I don’t share the parking space. Years ago, we claimed opposite ends of the same row. Nobody else parks in the space between us anymore. Not after several conflicts involving paint, glitter bombs, and one inflatable swimming pool.

I see my best friends, Lydia and Robert—Robin, as I insist on calling him—standing outside the main entrance exactly where they usually are. Lydia’s hands are flying, her voice reaching halfway across the parking lot, while Robert stands there wearing his signature half-casual-half-annoying smile.

Typical.

I climb out of my car, slinging my backpack over one shoulder, and walk toward them. I wave yet neither of them looks at me.

Excuse me?

“You’re exaggerating,” Robert says calmly, despite Lydia’s glare.

“I am not exaggerating,” Lydia snaps. “I’m saying people should have boundaries! Just because a girl invites you to her house, doesn’t mean she’s begging to get fucked!”

“That’s exactly what she’s begging for if she opens the door in clothes that barely count as clothes.”

I know that tone. He’s not serious—he’s just digging for a reaction. And Lydia’s giving him exactly what he wants.

“That doesn’t count!” she stomps her foot.

I stop a few feet away and blink.

This is what they’re ignoring me for?

I raise both hands. “Okay… I’m clearly missing something.”

“Kara.” Lydia whirls on me like I’m the solution she’s been waiting for. “Back me up.”

“I absolutely refuse.”

Lydia narrows her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve been standing here for, what, four seconds? Maybe five if we’re being generous.”

She frowns.

I only shrug, completely unapologetic.

“How am I supposed to pick a side when I don’t even know what we’re fighting about? You could be arguing about another load of bullshit again.”

Robert lets out a snort, quickly covering his mouth with his fist when Lydia shoots him a glare, her hazel-brown eyes practically turning red.

Lydia drags a hand down her face before pointing at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

She scoffs loudly enough for three nearby freshmen to glance over before turning on her heel, her brown hair whipping his face, and marching toward the building.

I watch her go, then turn to Robert, raising an eyebrow. “What was that about?”

He shrugs. “No idea. I said something, she disagreed, and now I’m the problem.”

“Robin, when have you ever not been the problem?”

He grins.

I study him with a squint. “Robiiiiin.”

He sighs, but avoids my gaze. “Don’t start.”

“You started something,” I say, my brows knitting as I notice his hair. What has he done to it? His usual dark brown has been dyed neon green. I'm not even going to ask why. There's barely ever a tangible reason with this guy.

“It wasn’t even that serious.”

I stare at him, deadpan. “What did you say?”

He hesitates, the corner of his lips twitching.

“I mentioned someone I hooked up with over the break,” he admits.

I click my tongue. Of course.

Lydia isn’t mad about the topic. She’s mad it was him saying it. They’ll never stop with this back and forth.

Well, not my circus, so not my monkeys.

“So,” he says quickly, clearly changing the subject, “how was your holiday?”

I don’t answer because I already know where this is going.

“With Kieran?” he adds, grinning wider.

There it is.

I glare at him. “Say that again and I will personally demonstrate what a punching bag experiences daily.”

He laughs.

I hate him.

“It wasn’t that bad.” He nudges my shoulder.

“It was that bad,” I snap. “Being stuck at his stupidly perfect beach house because of our parents is not a vacation. It’s torture.”

“Sounds relaxing.”

“Keep talking.”

He raises his hands in surrender, still smiling. “Fine. I’ll stop.”

“Wise decision.”

We start toward the building together. For a moment, things almost feel normal. Almost. Until I reach my locker.

I open my locker and instantly regret it.

Slime explodes outward, coating my clothes, my hair, and my face. Then it's followed by a shower of glitter that sticks to everything like it’s personally invested in my humiliation.

The hallway erupts into laughter. Someone flashes a camera. I go still, goo sliding down my cheek, while glitter sticks to my eyelashes. I wipe my face on my sleeve, then rake slime from my blonde hair with my fingers.

Well, that’s useless.

My shoulders tense when I hear a familiar laugh and a frown automatically twists my lips. I turn around.

Of fucking course.

Kieran stands a few feet away, hands tucked casually into his pockets and a stupid smirk on his face. His white self-imposed uniform is, of course, spotless. Dark hair falls across his forehead. His eyes find mine and he winks.

A chill runs down my spine. I unconsciously take a step back, but my heel hits the locker.

This white-obsessed clean freak.

I still have no idea how someone survives an entire school day looking like a laundry detergent commercial.

“Welcome back,” he says smoothly.

I glare at him. We’ve spent the last ten years sabotaging each other, yet somehow neither of us has managed to win. And this… this is how he wants to start our final semester?

Fine.

Let’s play.

My eyes find Robert. I march past Kieran and straight to Robert, wrapping both arms around him. Why? There’s no way Kieran pulled off this prank without Robert knowing because Robert is a friend Kieran doesn’t joke with. He betrayed me.

“Kara!” he yelps, immediately trying to peel me off. “What are you doing?”

“Sharing.”

His body goes rigid. “…No.”

“Oh yes.”

“Kara!”

“It’s called friendship.”

“It’s called assault!”

Lydia chooses now to come back.

The second she sees Robert’s glitter-covered shirt, slime smeared across his shoulder, and my very satisfied smile, her eyes light up.

“Oh,” she laughs. “That is beautiful.”

Robert groans, dropping his hands from my shoulders.

I let him go, patting his shoulder as I step back. “There. Now we’re both victims.”

He stumbles back, horrified. Then looks at Kieran with an accusing, bitter glare.

I look up and find Kieran still watching me instead. The smug smile hasn’t left his face. But something behind it has shifted. Obviously annoyance for getting goo on his precious Robert.

Using Robert works against him. And it’s a good thing I prepared something extra special for him.