COLLATERAL DEMAGE!?

Christine barely made it down the hall before the stares started. Whispers trailed after her like a bad perfume.

"That's her — the one who kissed Peter Hayes."

"I heard she's been stringing Marvin along the whole time."

"Damn, she's bold. Right in the middle of the library?"

She kept her head down, clutching her books like armor. But nothing could prepare her for the real disaster waiting at the end of the hallway.

Peter Hayes, leaning against the lockers like he was posing for a magazine cover, surrounded by his usual entourage — and eating up the attention.

"And then," he was saying loudly, hands moving like he was telling the most important story of his life, "she just grabbed me. Couldn't help herself. What can I say? I have that effect on people."

Laughter erupted. Christine's whole body heated with rage and humiliation. She shot a glare at Jessie, who was barely holding back a smile.

"You created a monster," Jessie whispered, clearly enjoying this way too much.

"I hate my life," Christine hissed back.

And then Peter's eyes found hers.

"Morning, baby girl!" he called across the hallway — loudly enough for everyone to hear.

The crowd erupted.

Christine wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Before she could decide if running was an option, Peter was in front of her, his trademark smirk in full force.

"You're enjoying this way too much," she said, trying to sound annoyed instead of completely flustered.

"Can you blame me?" He shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. "You made my week."

She scowled. "It was a mistake."

"Sure." He tilted his head, studying her with those maddeningly intense eyes. "But the part where you said you're scared of falling for me? That wasn't a lie, was it?"

Her stomach flipped. "I hate you."

He leaned in closer, his voice low and amused. "No, you don't."

Before she could fire back, the whispers around them shifted — and not in a good way.

"Poor Marvin. She's been playing him this whole time."

"No wonder Peter's acting like this — she's been leading them both on."

Christine's throat tightened. "Peter, this isn't funny."

His smirk faded, just a little. "Never said it was." He watched her carefully. "You wanna kill the rumors? You gotta make the reality clear."

She crossed her arms. "And what reality is that?"

He grinned. "Well, if you're into me—"

"I'm not."

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Before she could answer, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

"Christine."

Marvin stood a few feet away, his face tight and his eyes flicking between her and Peter. The tension in his posture was a whole different vibe — one she really didn't want to deal with.

"Hey, Marv," she started, but he didn't even hear her.

"You think this is funny, Hayes?" Marvin's voice was low and controlled — but his frustration was clear as day. "Turning her into one of your jokes?"

Peter's eyes darkened, his casual attitude slipping just a bit. "I'm not the one making her a joke, man."

And just like that, the air shifted. The easy teasing was gone — replaced by something a lot sharper, a lot heavier.

Jessie muttered under her breath, "Oh my God, what is happening right now?"

Christine stood between them, heart pounding. Because this? This was not gonna end well.

"Guys," she started, her voice low, trying to diffuse whatever this was before it exploded. "Let's not—"

But Marvin wasn't backing down. "You think this is funny, Peter? Turning my best friend into your latest game?"

Peter's jaw tightened, and the teasing glint in his eyes vanished. "Funny? Nah. But you acting like you've got some claim on her? That's hilarious."

Oh, hell no.

"Okay, that's enough," Christine snapped, stepping between them, but it was way too late.

"At least I respect her," Marvin shot back. "You just like the chase."

Peter's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "You're right, man. I do like the chase." His eyes flicked to Christine. "But what's even better? When they finally stop running."

Her breath caught — and Marvin lost it.

"Is this some kind of joke to you?" he demanded, stepping closer. "You're gonna hurt her. You always do."

Peter's face darkened. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

"I know enough." Marvin's voice was ice. "Everyone does."

Christine could feel the tension crackling between them like a live wire. She had to shut this down before it turned into an actual fight.

"Both of you — stop!" she said sharply.

They ignored her. Of course they did.

"Let me guess," Peter said, his voice low and dangerous. "You've been waiting for your shot, huh? Playing the nice guy, hoping she'd pick you in the end?"

"At least I wouldn't treat her like a game," Marvin fired back.

Peter's eyes flicked toward Christine, and something possessive and raw flashed there. "She doesn't seem to mind the game when she's kissing me."

The crowd gasped.

Marvin's face turned red. Christine wanted to die.

"Are you kidding me right now?" she hissed at Peter. "Why are you like this?"

But before Peter could answer, Marvin cut in. "You know what? I'm done." His voice cracked, and the hurt in his eyes hit her harder than any of Peter's games ever had. "I thought you were better than this, Christine."

That broke something inside her.

"Marvin, wait—"

But he was already walking away, shoulders stiff, head low.

The crowd started whispering again — louder now, the rumors feeding on the drama like wildfire.

Christine felt sick.

"Well," Peter said, breaking the silence like he hadn't just wrecked everything, "that went well."

She rounded on him. "You think this is funny?"

His smirk slipped. "No." He ran a hand through his hair, looking almost… guilty? But then the mask was back. "But you can't blame me for being a little curious."

"About what?" she demanded.

He stepped closer, his voice low and teasing — but there was something real underneath. "About why you care so much what he thinks… when you kissed me."

Her stomach flipped. Damn him.

"You're unbelievable," she muttered, pushing past him — but he caught her wrist, his grip gentle but firm.

"Christine." His voice softened, and when she looked up, the playfulness was gone. "You can tell me it was a mistake all you want. But we both know that kiss? That wasn't a mistake."

Her heart raced. "Let me go."

For a second, she thought he wouldn't — but then he did, his fingers sliding away from her skin slowly, like he didn't really want to.

She stood there, heart pounding, the whispers of the crowd still buzzing in the air. Marvin's words echoed in her head, but it was Peter's voice that pulled her back.

"Christine," he called after her, his tone softer than she'd ever heard it.

She stopped but didn't turn around. Not yet.

"I didn't mean for it to… get like this," he said quietly — almost hesitant. "I only told two people. Thought I could trust them. Guess I was wrong."

That… threw her.

She turned slowly, eyes searching his face — and for once, there was no smugness, no teasing. Just a flicker of something that looked a lot like regret.

"Peter—" she started, but the words stuck.

He shrugged, but the usual cocky edge wasn't there. "It's whatever, right? You think I'm trouble anyway." His voice was light, but the way he wouldn't quite meet her eyes told a different story.

She wanted to argue. To tell him he was wrong — or maybe right. But instead, she just whispered, "I didn't want this."

He nodded, his jaw tight. "Neither did I."

For a second, it felt like there was nothing left to say. So she turned and walked away — and this time, he didn't stop her.

But his words stayed with her long after she was gone.