Dating the Devil In BLUE AND GOLD

Daisy

High school isn't just about classes; it’s an ecosystem designed to remind you exactly where you fit in.

Most people spend these four years making plans, hunting for dates, and trying to find a clique that will actually have them.

You’ve got the athletes ruling the halls, the popular girls treating the corridors like a runway, and the nerds just trying to survive until graduation.

Then, there’s me.

I’m Daisy. I’m the girl the cafeteria tables forgot and the "plus-size nerd" whose locker is a prime target for "accidental" protein shake spills.

Having a 4.0 GPA and a waistline that isn't a size zero apparently gives everyone at Oakwood High the right to treat me like a footstool.

I’ve become an expert at living in the margins. My life is a cycle of avoiding

the gym floor and the judgmental eyes of the girls in the front row. Our worlds don't mix—their designer hair highlights cost more than everything in my closet.

I’m just a ghost navigating the gaps in the linoleum, trying to stay invisible in a building that was clearly built for people who have much more to lose than I do.

But today? Today was the day the nightmare decided to level up.

"Move it, Cupcake," a voice rasped in my ear.

I didn't even have to look. That voice belonged to Liam Martinez. The star quarterback.

The golden boy with the jawline that could cut glass and a heart that was basically a block of dry ice.

He bumped my shoulder hard, sending my stack of AP Physics books sprawling across the hallway.

"Oops," he smirked, his dark eyes dancing with that cruel, playful light I hated. He didn't stop.

He just kept walking, his varsity jacket swaying, while his crew of Neanderthals laughed behind him.

"Pick them up, Daisy," I whispered to myself, my face burning. "Don't cry. Never let them see you cry."

I scrambled to grab my books, but a manicured hand reached down first. It wasn't to help.

Tiffany, the head cheerleader and Liam’s on-again-off-again queen, kicked my notebook further down the hall.

"Better hurry, Daisy," Tiffany giggled, her eyes cold as ice.

"You wouldn't want to be late for the only thing you’re good at…studying."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, gathered my shredded dignity, and ran.

The only good thing about my life was my mom. She worked three jobs to keep us afloat in our tiny apartment.

So when I got home, the apartment felt different. My mom wasn't cooking dinner. She was sitting at our tiny table with a thick stack of papers.

"Daisy," she said, looking excited but nervous. "I found a way out. The debt, the rent, everything is going to be okay."

She showed me the logo on the paper. It was a name that just by looking at it, one would know the family was incredibly wealthy.

"They need a tutor for their seven-year-old daughter, Chloe," Mom explained. "They want someone with a high GPA to stay over because the parents travel for work.

They’re offering a private suite for you, money for your college, and a salary that will pay off all our bills."

I frowned. "Wait, 'for me'?

What about your job, Mom?"

"They specifically asked for a student," she said. "Someone young who can connect with Chloe.

I already said yes. We move into their mansion tomorrow."

I felt like I’d won the lottery. A private suite? No more cramped apartment? No more protein shakes being "accidentally" spilled on my locker?

It felt too good to be true.

It was.

The mansion was like something out of a movie. All glass, steel, and perfectly trimmed bushes. It sat high on a hill, looking down on the rest of the city.

The air up here probably costs more than my monthly rent.

A butler led us inside, taking our suitcases for us. The entrance hall alone was bigger than our whole apartment.

My mom was glowing with excitement as she shook hands with Mrs. Martinez. The woman looked perfect, like she’d never had a single hair out of place.

"And you must be Daisy," Mrs. Martinez said, smiling at me. She actually seemed nice.

"Chloe is so excited. She’s wanted a 'big sister' for a long time."

"I'm happy to be here," I mumbled, squeezing the straps of my backpack.

"Liam!"

Mrs. Martinez called out toward the giant staircase.

"Come down here! I want you to meet our new guests."

My heart skipped a beat. My stomach dropped.

Liam?

No way.

There are a million Liams in this world. It couldn’t be him.

Then I heard the heavy thud of expensive sneakers on marble stairs.

A tall guy in a grey hoodie rounded the corner.

He looked bored, staring at his phone until he reached the bottom step.

Then he looked up. Our eyes met.

The room went dead silent.

Liam’s smug look vanished. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

"You?" he choked out, pointing a finger at me.

"Mom, you hired the nerd?"

"Liam!

Watch your mouth!"

Mrs. Martinez snapped, her face turning red. "Daisy is our guest and our new tutor. You will treat her with respect."

Liam looked at me, then at my mom, then back at me. Slowly, a wicked grin spread across his face, the kind of look a cat gives a mouse.

"Oh, I’ll treat her with something," he whispered. He leaned in close as his mom turned away to talk to mine.

"Welcome to hell, Cupcake. I hope you brought your running shoes."