Chapter 1: The Rooftop Kiss

When I was kissing the campus bad boy on the rooftop, my vision exploded with a flood of comments, like I was watching my own life through a glitchy TikTok livestream:

[Oof, poor Natalie. She’s gonna see this and cry, isn’t she?]

[Caleb, you clown, she’s been into you forever and THIS is how you treat her?]

[Sis, RUN! 🚩]

[Not the side chick drama again 😩]

[This is peak messy, I love it.]

So, this is a story about a playboy’s redemption arc.

I’m the disposable girlfriend of the male lead, Caleb Brooks.

After he dumps me, he’ll meet his true love—the original heroine, sweet and quiet Natalie Summers.

A warm spring breeze tangled my hair, the sun painting long shadows across the faded rooftop tar beneath my beat-up Vans. The comments flickered almost like a phone screen I couldn’t turn off, reminding me of every reality show I’d binge-watched at 2 a.m. on my futon, wishing I had someone else’s problems.

---

When I was kissing Caleb Brooks on the rooftop, I heard a faint noise behind me.

A dry creak echoed—a door hinge, maybe, or the wind rattling the old metal. For a second, I wondered if the janitor was about to bust us, but it felt different, like a ghost moving through the warm dusk.

I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of a white hoodie disappearing behind the rooftop door.

My heart skipped. For a second, I wanted to run after her, explain, but what would I even say? Sorry for kissing your crush? Sorry for being the villain in your story?

The sight was quick, but the shape—small, hesitant—lingered in my mind. I could almost hear the shuffle of worn Converse against concrete, the awkward pause of someone realizing they’d seen something meant to be private.

Then, lines of livestream-style comments appeared in front of me.

Piecing everything together, I figured out the truth.

I’m living in a novel about a reformed bad boy.

The male lead: Caleb Brooks, the campus heartthrob with a notorious reputation.

The heroine: Natalie Summers, the gentle, quiet girl who’s secretly loved Caleb for years.

And me? I’m the villain—the girl everyone loves to hate. The contrast that highlights the male lead’s special feelings for the heroine. The stepping stone for their love story.

Suddenly, I was just another supporting character in someone else’s Netflix drama, the one viewers groan about on Reddit threads, doomed to trend as a meme for being the wrong girl at the wrong time.

Soon, I’ll be dumped by the male lead for making a scene, clearing the way for his years-long romantic entanglement with the heroine.

I could almost hear the swelling background music, the camera panning out as I watched myself in a story I didn’t write.

As I was spacing out, a clear voice sounded next to me:

"Aubrey, what are you daydreaming about?"

I looked up and met a pair of smiling, flirtatious eyes.

He leaned in to kiss me again. I raised my hand and pressed it to his shoulder.

"Someone saw us."

He glanced around. "Who?"

With the comments scrolling wildly, I looked at the half-open metal door and silently answered in my heart:

The girl you’ll someday love more than life itself.

My words stuck in my throat, my mind running ahead to a future that wasn’t mine. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a coming storm, and Caleb, so sure of himself, had no idea it was already raining.