Chapter 7 07

MONICA 

I didn’t look back as I walked out of the library. It's more like I couldn’t. I knew his gaze was following me all the way and if I turned or even paused in my movements, he may read too much into it. I'm trying to avoid him not pull him in.

By the time I got home, my whole body felt like someone had drained every ounce of energy out of me. My backpack hit the couch the moment I entered and I just stood there for a second, staring blankly at the wall and rethinking a few life decisions.

Then I heard the sound of plates clinking in the kitchen, and my heart jumped a little. Dad was home. That was rare.

“Moni?” his voice called. “That you?”

“Yeah Dad,” I said, walking toward the kitchen.

He was standing by the counter, still in his work clothes which was really unsanitary but with his grey jumper around his waist and his yellow shirt out. The sight of him working so hard with those bags under his eyes made me really uncomfortable. He looked tired. Always tired.

“You’re home early,” I commented.

“Yeah,” he smiled faintly. “Had the afternoon off from one of my part time jobs so I thought I’d surprise you by making dinner before I leave again.”

I looked at the pot simmering on the stove and felt the guilt start creeping in. He never had time to cook, I do all the cooking because knowing him whenever he got home exhausted he'd be so lazy to cook that he'd just sleep it off. He must’ve rushed home to make dinner for me.

“That’s nice,” I said softly, sitting down at the small kitchen table.

He looked over at me and his eyes immediately began scanning my face. “Rough day?”

“You could say that.” He poured himself a cup of tea, then leaned against the counter. “You know, I always tell you not to let those rich kids get to you. You’re better than all that noise.”

“ Oh I know.” I said with a faint smile He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve been so quiet lately. You’re sure you’re okay?”

The way he asked it was so gentle, so worried that it made my heart ache again. “I’m fine, Dad. Really.”

“Okay,” he said after a pause. “But if you ever need to talk about something, you can. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I whispered. He smiled a little. “Good. Dinner’s almost ready. You’ll eat, right?”

My stomach felt tight with guilt. So much guilt. “Actually… I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

“Monica—”

“I promise I’ll eat breakfast tomorrow,” I said quickly. “I’m just tired.” He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Alright gummy bear. Rest up, don't stay up too late on that phone.”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

I turned away before he could see the look on my face. The second I got to my room, I dropped onto my bed, still in my clothes, staring up at the ceiling. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning over the days activities. Gabriel Anderson. The way he looked at me like he could see right through every wall I’d built.

God, why wasn’t this day over already?

I groaned, rolling onto my side and reaching for my phone. The screen lit up instantly.

1 new message. I checked to find it was from an unsaved number. With a sigh I opened it. 

Unknown: Nice to meet you too, Monica Lee.

Huh? Who is this? I checked the profile picture and to my absolute shock, it just had to be new guy. Gabriel Anderson. 

I didn’t sleep much that night. My mind wouldn’t shut up no matter how many times I tossed around, my pillow was hot from overthinking and my phone screen still taunting me with that message. 

“Nice to meet you too, Monica Lee.”

I didn’t even know how to reply, so I didn’t. I just stared at it until the battery gave up and I didn't want to charge.

The next morning, I woke up with dark circles that even concealer couldn’t save. I tied my hair up into a messy bun and was already half way down when I remembered I couldn't dress this way to school anymore. Julian would murder me. 

I ran back up to my room and began curling my hair. I applied very light makeup on my face, like Julian had taught me to. And when I looked at the mirror again, I was beautiful. I guess it explained the library event. 

I finally made my way down the stairs and stuffed my face with a slice of toast, and dragged myself outside so I wouldn't miss the bus. Luckily I made it right on time. 

The bus ride was weird. The people who once ignored me, made space for me to sit and get comfortable. Most of the ride was filled with stares that I had already decided weren't going to bother me today. 

Finally I made it to Havenstone. Another day in paradise. Except paradise had a stalker today.

Because somehow, some freaking how, Gabriel kept appearing everywhere I went. Like some kind of walking déjà vu.

At first, I thought it was a coincidence. I saw him by the hallway lockers when I went to get my English folder. Then again by the vending machine when I stopped for water. 

Then outside the art block when I passed through on my way to the main building. Every single time, he’d just smirk, tilt his head slightly, and pretend like he wasn’t obviously following me.

By the time I made it to my first class, I was half convinced the universe was laughing at me.

I got there early, before anyone else which was rare. I wanted to drop off the history project I’d been working on for two weeks, the one that had drained more sleep out of me than exams ever could.

Professor Hastings was already in, leaning back on his chair with his reading glasses perched low on his nose. He looked up when I walked in.

“Ah, Miss Lee,” he said, dragging my name like it was something sour. “You’re early. How… surprising.”

“Morning, sir,” I said, keeping my voice polite, holding out the project neatly bound with the plastic folder I’d bought from the school store. “I just came to submit my assignment.”

He took it from me, flipping through the pages very very slowly. Then his mouth curved in that fake-smile way that teachers use when they’re about to insult you in the most professional tone possible.

“Hmm. Handwritten, I see,” he said, his eyes gliding over the neatly written pages. “Couldn’t afford to print, Miss Lee?”

I froze, gripping my bag strap tighter. “The printer at the library was down,” I said evenly. “I told the librarian and she said it was fine.”

“Ah, of course. Always an excuse.” He dropped the folder carelessly on the desk. “You students think effort substitutes presentation. Unfortunately, the world doesn’t reward poverty.”

“Excuse me?” I said before I could stop myself 

He didn’t even glance up. “You heard me. You can’t expect your subpar resources to earn equal grades as those who put in the extra effort. Fairness doesn’t mean sameness.”

That was it. I’d taken enough crap from him this semester already.

“With all due respect, Professor,” I started, “you’re supposed to grade based on effort and accuracy, not how rich someone’s parents are. Besides we both know the only difference between my submission and the rest is the fact that it's actually on your desk.”

He finally looked up, glasses slipping down his nose. “Careful, Miss Lee.”

“No,” what the fuck is wrong with you Monica? Back off. “You’re always doing this. You act like scholarship students are lazy when half of us work twice as hard because we actually have to. You treat people like they’re beneath you just because they can’t afford everyone elses lavish lifestyle. The nepotism–”

“Enough,” he snapped, standing now. “Detention.”

“What?”

“Detention. For insubordination. You don’t raise your voice at a professor.”

My jaw tightened. “Are you serious right now?” He reached for my folder again, flipped it open, then ripped the first page clean out.

“Make sure next time you follow submission standards,” he said coldly, tearing it right down the middle before tossing it into the trash can beside his desk.

I stared at the torn pages I worked so hard on and my jaw tightened so hard that it began to hurt. 

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, cursing under my breath as I turned and walked to my seat, every nerve in my body buzzing with anger.

I dropped into my chair, staring blankly at the board. The classroom slowly filled as the others came in. Soon the class was almost filled up but then, of course, Gabriel had to come in last. He slid into the seat next to mine.

I didn’t even look at him. He leaned closer to me and whispered, “Good morning Monica Lee,” I didn't reply.

“What happened?” he suddenly asked.

“Nothing,” I said flatly.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, eyeing the bin where the ripped paper still peeked out.

“Drop it,” I hissed, flipping open my notebook. He leaned back, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright. Just saying, he looks like the kind of guy who gets turned on by grading tears. I wonder if he uses the papers to wipe off after.”

Despite myself, a small sound almost like a laugh escaped my throat. I covered it with a cough, refusing to look at him.

Hastings walked in front of the class then, clearing his throat. “Alright, settle down, everyone. Let’s begin.”

I kept my eyes glued to my notes, trying to drown out his voice and the unfairness crawling under my skin. Halfway through the lecture, something flew on my desk. I looked down to find a chocolate bar. 

It was wrapped around it was a small folded note. I hesitated before opening it.

Your mood should match your face.

For the first time that day, my lips twitched. Just a little. A tiny, almost invisible smile.

“Miss Lee,” the professor’s voice cut through the moment. “Is my class boring you?” I froze up as every head turned to me.

“No, sir, I—”

“What’s that in your hand?”

Before I could even respond, Gabriel’s voice came out casually from beside me. “It’s mine. I threw it to her.”

The room went dead silent. A collective gasp rippled through the class.

Olivia, who lived for chaos, immediately let out a laugh sharp enough to cut through glass. “Oh my God,” she said, turning around with that plastic smile of hers. “You threw her chocolate? What, you tired of her already? Didn’t even last two days, huh?”

I clenched my jaw as heat rose up my neck.

“She probably begged for it,” Olivia continued, in a sweet but venomous tone. Great, if Zoey weren't around to piss me off, her trusty minions would do the job. “What’s next, Monica? You going to bribe him with your little charity face? Get him to fuck you like you fucked his cousin.

The laughter around her table literally blew up the moment she said that. “You should try shutting your mouth for once, Olivia. Might actually make people like you.”

Her smile disappeared immediately. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I said, meeting her glare dead on. “It’s getting old. You acting like you’re the main character in a soap opera no one even watches.”

A few chuckles erupted across the room. Olivia’s face went red. “That’s enough,” Hastings yelled. “Detention!”