Chapter 7: Masks Off

6.

The two buildings next to the school were Drake family donations. Nobody messed with Sean on campus.

Everyone knew the Drakes—old money, their name on the gym and library. Mess with Sean, and you risked your spot at Central High. He walked the halls like he owned them.

When I asked to switch seats, the teacher agreed in a heartbeat, and the school even handed me a scholarship check. Hush money as much as a reward.

After school, as I packed my books, I felt cold lips on my neck and spun around, ready to punch.

Sean grinned, smelling like rain and expensive cologne. For a second, I let myself enjoy the thrill—the way he made me feel alive.

"Valedictorians don’t need to study, right? Stay with me a little longer tonight, okay?"

Playful, but with an anxious edge. He wanted my attention—craved it. I teased him, letting him think he was winning.

Underneath the joking, I heard something real—anxiety, maybe even fear. Sean didn’t like to share.

He bit my finger as I tried to stop him going further, eyes locked on my lips.

I laughed and pulled away, but he caught my hand. There was an intensity there that made my heart race.

"There are cameras in the classroom."

I looked at him, temptation in the flesh, and stopped him.

He pouted. I stood my ground. I wasn’t about to risk everything for a stolen moment.

"Can we at your place then?" Sean leaned closer.

His breath was warm on my ear. I pretended to think it over, letting him sweat.

I smiled: "Depends on how you behave."

He grinned, victorious. I rolled my eyes, but inside, I was already planning the night.

We’d been secretly dating for a month, SATs coming up fast.

Nobody knew for sure. We met after dark, in quiet corners, always careful. The secrecy made it sweeter.

I managed love and grades—even with Sean making off with my homework and books, I held onto first place.

He always had an excuse—lost notebooks, spilled coffee, emergencies. I let him get away with it, just to see what he’d try next.

Sean didn’t give up until my grades slipped. Knowing I had no one at home, he started following me back.

He showed up at my door one night, rain-soaked and grinning, begging for math help. I let him in, knowing what he was really after.

Sean hated studying, but as soon as we got home, I made him do practice problems.

He groaned, flopping onto my couch, but I was relentless. If he wanted my time, he had to earn it.

He eyed the formulas, reluctant. "Is there a reward if I get this right?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe."

He worked through the problems, then wrapped his arm around me. "Done. Tonight’s reward."

His confidence was back. I let him celebrate—for a minute.

High school boys are always full of energy.

He pulled me onto his lap, fingers tracing circles on my arm. Part of me wanted to resist, but I let myself relax.

I let myself enjoy it for a while.

For a few minutes, I let my guard down—let myself feel wanted. It was nice.

But Sean looked into my calm eyes, annoyed. "Mia."

He wanted more—more attention, more proof that I cared. I stayed silent, waiting him out.

"You got this question wrong."

I marked the mistake on his last page.

He groaned, face in his hands. I watched, amused. He couldn’t shake me.

Sean wore his laziness openly. He thought his family would always have his back, so why try?

He started sulking, grabbing my hands a little rougher. "Study, study. Mia, all you care about is studying. You don’t even like me."

His grip tightened, his voice rising. I pulled free, not letting him see how much it hurt.

But I didn’t give him more attention.

I turned back to my notes, pretending not to care. If he wanted a reaction, he’d have to work harder.

Why coddle a guy throwing a tantrum?

If Sean wanted to play games, he could play alone. I’d learned long ago not to give in.

If he was just here for Madison, he should be the one giving me value.

If I was just a game to him, then I’d play along—on my terms.

Besides, he was beautiful.

I watched him pout—lips full, eyes downcast. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

I felt no cold war at all—let him skip breakfast, use his body as leverage, try to force me to care.

He tried every trick—silent treatment, skipped meals, dramatic sighs. I rolled my eyes and went about my day.

I touched his arm. His lovely eyes were full of wounded anger, one hand clutching his stomach as he turned away.

He looked so small, so breakable. I almost reached out, but stopped. I wasn’t going to play his game.

But he didn’t realize—only those who fall first get angry at being ignored.

Sean was falling, and he hated it. I saw it in the way he glared at me, the way his voice trembled on my name.

From start to finish, I was just a calm bystander, watching him lose his temper.

It was a power I’d never had before. I savored every moment.

An anonymous sender messaged me a new video after midnight.

The video was grainy, shot in a smoky bar. I hesitated, then pressed play.

Jake, Madison, their friends—drinks in hand, laughter echoing. I felt a chill crawl up my spine.

[As expected of Sean—just showed up and Mia’s already head over heels.]

The comments were snide, mocking. I gripped my phone tighter.

[Sean, what did you do to make Mia switch lab partners?]

Sean’s voice cut through the noise, low and smug. My stomach twisted.

"Thought she’d be hard to get, but she came the moment I called."

That line stung. All that trust—I’d handed it over, and he’d laughed behind my back.

[Sean, my cousin’s liked you for years. Don’t let Madison down. When are you breaking up?]

Madison’s voice was syrupy, words laced with poison. My hands trembled.

Sean raised his eyebrows: "After I sleep with her. She’s way prettier than those basic girls outside."

The laughter that followed was cold. I felt exposed, stripped bare.

A glass shattered in the video.

I flinched at the sharp sound. Someone cursed. The camera shook, then steadied.

It was Jake knocking over his drink.

He mumbled an apology, eyes darting. For a second, I thought I saw regret—or just fear.

Madison’s whiny voice: "You’re not falling for her, are you? Her grades haven’t dropped. I don’t think she cares about you."

Her words were meant to hurt. I felt the sting, even though I knew better.

The bar music was too loud, but Sean’s words were clear: "How could I love a broke orphan with no parents? Is she even worth it? The cancer report’s ready—a month before the test, just watch me go all out."

His voice was ice. Every word a knife. I felt my heart harden. The last hope evaporated.

The anonymous sender messaged: [It’s already like this—do you still like Sean?]

I stared at my phone, my reflection glaring back. If they wanted a villain, I’d show them how it’s done.