Chapter 6 JUNIPER

I spotted Katy and Piper the second I stepped out of the lecture hall, the doors still swinging behind me as the crowd spilled into the hallway like ants from a kicked nest.

Piper was leaning against the opposite wall, phone in hand, thumbs flying across the screen with that signature smirk tugging at her lips.

Probably texting some guy she’d meet up with this weekend—let him buy her drinks, hook up in his dorm or his car or wherever the mood took them—then ghost him the second he started getting clingy.

She was the female version of a player, and she wore it like a crown.

Slim figure poured into low-rise jeans and a cropped tank, long brown hair flowing down her back in effortless waves, confident stride that made people turn.

She could pull it off because she never pretended to be anything she wasn’t: fun, unattached, and gone before feelings could complicate things.

Katy, meanwhile, was perched on the low brick wall outside the building, legs swinging like she was still in middle school, while David stood in front of her, saying something that made her throw her head back and laugh—full, bright,Leader countries increase the kind of laugh that turned heads.

She was Piper’s complete opposite in every way that mattered: soft where Piper was sharp, romantic where Piper was ruthless.

Katy was still a virgin—like me—waiting for Mr. Right to come along, the kind of guy who’d make her feel safe and seen instead of just a lay.

She’d kissed a few boys over the years—quick, sweet pecks at parties or under bleachers—but nothing more.

She never rushed, never chased, never let anyone pressure her into crossing a line she wasn’t ready for.

She believed in the big love story, the slow-burn kind you read about in books, and somehow she made you want to believe in it too, even when the world kept proving otherwise.

So Yeah.

These were my besties.

One who collected guys like limited-edition sneakers—try on, enjoy the shine, toss when the novelty wore off.

The other who still believed in rom-com endings and made you want to believe in them too.

And me?

I was the one in the baggy hoodie and fake glasses, carrying both their chaos on my back half the time—hauling Katy home drunk at 2 a.m., listening to Piper rant about “clingy” guys while I scrubbed fryer grease out of my uniform sleeves.

I sometimes wondered how they were my friends at all. I blended into the background like wallpaper—nothing about me stood out, nothing demanded attention. I liked it that way. Safe. Unseen.

Piper and Katy were light; I was the darkness.

I adjusted my backpack strap and headed toward them, the ache in my feet from last night’s shift reminding me I still had a bus to catch and a dad to text that I’d be home late again.

Katy saw me first. Her face lit up like I’d just handed her the sun.

“Juni!” Katy yelled, shoving David aside mid-sentence and leaping off the wall.

She barreled toward me and threw her arms around my neck in a hug that smelled like vanilla body spray and sunshine.

She pulled back, hands still on my shoulders, and narrowed her eyes like she was personally offended by my existence.

"Why didn't you wear those cute little short shorts I picked out for you?!” she demanded, giving me a gentle shake for emphasis.

I grimaced, the memory flashing instantly: that disastrous shopping trip with her and Katy where they’d raided every rack like it was a war zone.

A pile of clothes ended up in my arms—tiny shorts, crop tops, low-cut tanks—all tags still dangling, all shoved to the very back of my wardrobe the second I got home.

There was no way I’d step out in public wearing anything that put my chest on display.

“You know why,” I said quietly, tugging my hoodie sleeves over my knuckles.

“I don’t feel comfortable in those clothes. It’s bad enough I have to wear that stupid uniform at the diner.”

Katy pouted, but Piper stepped up on my other side, arms crossed, smirking like she’d just won an argument I didn’t know we were having.

“Yeah, and you look fucking hot in it,” she said, voice low and matter-of-fact.

“The way that polo hugs your tits? Chef’s kiss. You’re serving looks and fries, babe. Own it.”

Heat crept up my neck. I shoved my hands deeper into my hoodie pockets.

“I’m not trying to serve anything except coffee and burgers. And maybe not get fired for indecent exposure when the buttons pop.”

Katy laughed, bright and unapologetic, looping her arm through mine.

“You’re hopeless. But we love you anyway.”

Piper bumped my shoulder lightly.

“We love you because you’re hopeless. Keeps us entertained.”

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth lifted despite myself.

They were loud, chaotic, impossible.

They dragged me into the light when all I wanted was shadows. And somehow, impossibly, they made me feel like I belonged.

I didn’t see him until it was too late.

Someone barreled out of the lecture-room doors like they owned the hallway—broad shoulders, fast stride, phone in one hand, laughing loud at something someone behind him said.

The collision was sudden and solid: his shoulder slammed into mine with enough force to knock me sideways.

My backpack slid halfway off my arm, books shifting inside with a muffled thud, and I stumbled, feet tangling for a heartbeat before I caught myself against the wall with one palm.

A sharp breath hissed out of me. My hoodie hood slipped back a little, fake glasses sliding down my nose.

“Watch it,” a deep voice tossed over his shoulder without breaking stride.

I froze.

I knew that voice.

I turned slowly, just in time to catch Knox Reyes smirling at me.

He paused for half a second—long enough to look at me.

Quick.

Dismissive.

Eyes raking over me top to bottom in one lazy sweep: oversized hoodie zipped halfway, fake glasses slipping down my nose, plain black leggings, scuffed sneakers, the full “don’t notice me” ensemble I’d perfected over the years.

His lips twitched into that crooked smirk—the one that made girls forget their own names and their dignity along with them.

“Speckles,” he said, voice low and mocking, like he’d just invented the word and found it hilarious.

“Nice outfit. Did you raid the lost-and-found at the Salvation Army, or is this just your signature ‘I gave up’ look?”

My stomach twisted—not from hurt, exactly, but from the sheer, effortless arrogance of it.

Like he could bump into me, nickname me, roast my entire wardrobe, and keep walking without a single consequence.

Wow. Truly groundbreaking comedy.

Did you practice that one in front of the mirror while flexing for your reflection?

Or is insulting people who don’t worship you just your cardio for the day?

I wanted to fire back something sharp—something about how at least I didn’t need a trust fund and a football to feel important, or how his “playboy supreme” act was getting old even to the girls who still fell for it.

But the words stuck in my throat the way they always did when I was actually mad.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the words from escaping. Because what was the point?

He’d already moved on—laughing at something Hunter said, Slate trailing behind with that quiet “leave her alone, Knox” that Knox ignored completely.

Katy rubbed my back in slow, soothing circles.

“Juni, you okay?”

I straightened my hoodie, tugging the hood forward like armor, cheeks hot but not from embarrassment—from pure, petty irritation that felt like it was simmering in my bloodstream.

“Fine,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm so thick it could’ve clogged the drains.

“Just another glorious day on Planet Knox, where gravity bends around his ego,

Piper was already swearing under her breath.

“Fucking prick. ‘Speckles’? ‘I gave up’ look? Like he’s so above everyone he gets to nickname people and roast their clothes like they’re his personal charity case. I swear, one of these days I’m gonna—”

“Piper,” Katy cut in, laughing despite herself,

“Chill. He’s not worth the energy.”

Piper huffed, shoving her phone into her pocket with more force than necessary.

“He’s worth a knee to the balls. That’s what he’s worth.”

I snorted, the sound escaping before I could stop it—sharp, involuntary, and a little too loud for the quad.

My cheeks were still warm from the collision, but the irritation had shifted into something lighter, meaner, more satisfying.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” I said, sarcasm rolling off my tongue like it had been waiting for its cue.

“His balls are always busy in some girl—there’s probably a waitlist longer than the line for free concert tickets. If you want a turn, get in line behind the entire cheer squad and half the sorority row.

You’d have to take a number, get a ticket, maybe schedule an appointment. ‘Sorry, Knox’s nuts are booked solid through spring break—next available slot is graduation weekend, and even then it’s double-booked with two cheerleaders and a sorority president.’”

Piper barked a laugh so loud a few heads turned, her eyes sparkling with pure delight.

“Oh my god, I’m dead. I’m picturing the sign-up sheet now: ‘Knee to the Balls Reservation – Please Wait Patiently While Knox’s Ego Gets Fluffed.’”

Katy shook her head, still giggling, and tugged us both toward the food trucks.

“Come on. Food first, felony planning later.

Katy looped her arm through mine, tugging me toward the quad.

“My treat. You can tell us about whatever fresh hell the diner threw at you last night.”

Piper fell into step on my other side, still muttering.

“And if I ever see Knox Reyes bump into you again, I’m tripping him into traffic. Speckles my ass. Salvation Army my ass. Dick.”

I smiled despite myself.

Yeah.

These were my besties.

Flawed, chaotic, ridiculous.

And mine.

Knox Reyes could keep his smirk, his nicknames, his orbiting fan club.

I’d keep my hoodie.

My sarcasm.