He Said, She Said, Bullshit.

Jasmine's POV

For the first two periods after lunch, everything felt normal.

No drama. No tension. Just class, notes, and the usual routine.

And for a moment, I thought maybe I'd imagined it.

The way Salomi had looked at me, the sharpness behind her smile, the words she'd left hanging in the air like a warning wrapped in sugar.

Maybe she was just being her usual petty, territorial self.

Maybe I had nothing to worry about.

Then—

The hallway.

And that's when it started.

I was walking to my locker, Xan on one side, Ava on the other, when I felt it.

The shift.

The eyes.

Subtle, at first.

Just a few passing glances. A whisper here, a side-eye there.

Nothing too obvious. Nothing I could pinpoint.

Until it was.

Until I walked past a group of girls near the stairwell, and one of them giggled behind her hand.

Loud enough for me to hear.

Ava stiffened beside me. "The fuck was that?"

I ignored it.

Kept walking.

But the next time it happened?

It wasn't just a giggle.

It was a whisper.

A clear, unmistakable hushed voice from somewhere behind me.

"…I heard she was all over him first."

I stopped.

Xan bumped into me slightly. "Jas?"

I didn't answer.

Didn't react.

Just turned my head slightly, catching the girls in my peripheral vision.

One of them looked away fast, like she hadn't just spoken.

The other?

The other met my eyes for half a second, then smiled.

A knowing, smug, 'I already believe whatever bullshit I heard' kind of smile.

And just like that—

I knew.

Something was happening.

Something bad.

Ava arched a brow, looking between me and them. "Should I kill them now or later?"

Xan sighed. "Jesus Christ, not again."

I exhaled, pressing my fingers to my temples. "No one's killing anyone."

Ava scoffed. "Yet."

Xan frowned, studying my face. "You good?"

No.

I wasn't.

Because this felt too familiar.

Like the beginning of something I couldn't stop.

I forced a breath. "I'm fine."

Lying.

But the last thing I needed was Ava going full nuclear or Xan giving me that quiet, concerned look like I was some fragile thing about to break.

So I kept moving.

One step.

Then another.

Like I could walk away from the feeling crawling under my skin.

The thing about rumors? They don't hit you all at once.

They creep in.

They slip through the cracks, whispering, infecting, spreading before you even realize you're infected.

And by the time I reached my next class?

I was already suffocating.

Third Period – History Class.

I slid into my seat, Ava dropping beside me with a huff.

"Why is everyone acting like they know some shit I don't?" she muttered, pulling out her notebook. "Seriously, I swear half the school is whispering today."

I opened my mouth to respond—

Then stopped.

Because I heard it.

A few desks away, two girls were muttering to each other, voices low but not low enough.

"…I mean, she moves fast, doesn't she?"

A pause. A giggle.

"Didn't she just get pulled out of class by Zayne last week? Now she's with Andre?"

My fingers tightened around my pen.

Ava noticed.

Turned her head so fast it was a miracle she didn't snap her own neck.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

The two girls froze.

Eyes wide.

Caught.

Ava smiled sweetly. "No, no, please. Keep talking. I love a good fairytale."

The brunette hesitated. "We weren't talking about you."

"Oh, I know." Ava's smile sharpened. "You're talking about my best friend."

Silence.

Ava leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her palm. "So go on. What's the story? Because last time I checked, Jasmine wasn't with Zayne. Or Andre. But please—do enlighten me."

I sighed. This was about to be a whole thing.

The girls fidgeted, glancing at each other.

Then one of them—the blonde—muttered, "It's just what people are saying."

Ava scoffed. "And you believed it?"

The blonde shrugged, like it wasn't her problem. "It kind of makes sense."

Ava blinked. "Oh?"

She gestured vaguely. "I mean, you saw her with McCall. And Andre… well, everyone knows he's into her."

Wait. What?

I stared. Where the hell did that come from?

Ava, who had been irritated before, now looked genuinely confused. "Andre is into who?"

The brunette smirked. "Take a wild guess."

Ava turned to me slowly, expression unreadable.

I didn't say anything.

Didn't know what to say.

Because I had no fucking clue where this was coming from.

Andre Enters .

The bell rang, signaling the end of class.

I barely made it three steps out the door before someone blocked my way.

Tall. Dark curls. That signature easy smirk.

Andre.

I exhaled sharply. "Great. Just who I needed."

He grinned. "You flatter me, babe."

Ava rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn't pass out. "Ugh. You're one of those guys who calls every girl 'babe,' aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Only the ones I like."

Ava turned to me. "I support murder."

Andre just chuckled, but then his green eyes flicked back to me, something unreadable there.

"So, Jasmine," he said smoothly. "You wanna tell me why half the school suddenly thinks we're a thing?"

I blinked.

"What?"

He tilted his head. "You don't know?"

Ava crossed her arms. "Oh, we fucking know."

Andre sighed. "Right. The whole 'she's bouncing between guys' thing."

I clenched my jaw. "It's bullshit."

"I figured." His gaze flicked over me, studying. "But you should know, it's getting worse."

Ava narrowed her eyes. "Define 'worse.'"

Andre rubbed his jaw, exhaling slowly. "I overheard a group of seniors talking. Apparently, I'm not just into her now—I'm her new distraction."

Ava snorted. "Wow. What an upgrade."

He glanced at me. "And McCall? He's the one she really wants but can't have."

I froze.

The words slammed into my brain so hard it took a full second to process them.

"What?" I breathed.

Andre lifted his hands. "Not my words. Just what's being said."

Ava looked at me carefully. Too carefully.

Then—she groaned. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me this is actually bothering you."

I shook my head too fast. "It's not."

Liar.

Because the thought of people thinking I wanted Zayne but was using Andre instead?

It made my skin crawl.

It made me feel like something was spinning out of control and I had no way to stop it.

Andre sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, for what it's worth, I don't mind being part of a scandal."

Ava shoved him.

I groaned. "Can everyone shut up? This isn't funny."

Andre grinned. "A little funny."

Ava smacked his arm. "She's being publicly slandered, dumbass."

"Okay, okay," he sighed, holding up his hands. "No jokes. But what's the plan?"

I frowned. "What plan?"

He arched a brow. "Are we shutting this down or letting it play out?"

I stared at him. "Why the hell would I let it play out?"

He smirked. "Because you could use it to your advantage."

Ava groaned. "Don't listen to him. This man is a menace."

Andre laughed. "I'm just saying—it pisses McCall off."

My breath caught.

I didn't react fast enough.

Didn't mask the way I hesitated.

And Andre?

Andre saw it.

His smirk widened slightly. "Huh. Interesting."

I ignored him.

I turned back to my locker, grabbing the books I needed, ignoring the heat still clinging to my skin from Andre's words.

Ava leaned against the row of lockers, arms crossed. "Where are you going?"

"The library," I muttered, shoving the last book into my bag.

Xan, who had been quiet up until now, let out a slow breath, turning to leave.

"I've got violin practice," he said flatly, like it was an excuse rather than an actual plan.

I narrowed my eyes at his tone, but he didn't wait for a response. Just turned and walked away.

Ava and I exchanged glances.

"I thought he practiced on Saturdays," she murmured, frowning slightly.

I shrugged, pretending not to care. "Whatever."

Andre, still standing nearby, leaned against the lockers, watching me like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve.

"I'll walk you there," he offered smoothly.

I slung my bag over my shoulder. "No thanks."

His lips twitched. "Damn. You shut me down fast."

Ava snorted. "She's good at that."

Andre placed a hand over his chest, mock-wounded. "So much rejection today."

I rolled my eyes. "You'll live."

And with that, I turned, making my way toward the library.

I needed space.

I needed quiet.

But, unfortunately, quiet didn't last long when Zayne McCall was involved.

The Library –

Westrange High's library was massive.

Rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves, dim warm lighting, long oak study tables, and an entire second floor dedicated to archives.

It was one of the only places in this school where I actually felt at peace.

And today?

That peace lasted a grand total of two minutes.

Because as soon as I walked in, I spotted him.

Zayne.

Already sitting at one of the long tables in the back, laptop open, fingers tapping against the cover of his notebook like he was waiting for something.

Or someone.

Our eyes met instantly.

I paused.

Not because I didn't expect him to be here—we had work to do.

But because for the past two weeks, we had somehow perfected the art of avoidance.

We still worked together on the project. Still exchanged ideas, still debated strategies, still argued like we always did.

But there was a difference now.

An invisible line we both refused to cross.

Neither of us acknowledged it.

Neither of us questioned it.

And neither of us dared to talk about the last time we were alone together.

I inhaled sharply and walked toward the table, sliding into the seat across from him.

Zayne didn't say anything.

Didn't even look at me for more than a second.

Just passed me a set of notes, spun his pen between his fingers, and got straight to work.

And, honestly?

I was grateful.

Because sometimes, not talking about something was easier than admitting it mattered.

Two Hours Later .

By the time we wrapped up, I was mentally drained.

I shut my laptop, stretching my arms over my head with a sigh. "We done?"

Zayne leaned back, studying me for a second. "For now."

I hummed, standing up, ready to grab my things and leave.

Then—

"We should continue this later."

I frowned. "We just spent two hours on this."

He arched a brow. "So?"

I scowled. "So, I have a life, McCall."

His lips twitched slightly, like he found that funny. "You can have a life after we finish."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going home."

"Cool," he said easily. "We'll do it at my place then."

I froze.

"…What?"

Zayne leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, gaze steady, unreadable.

"You heard me."

I laughed. "No."

"No?"

"No."

He tilted his head. "You scared?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Scared of what?"

He smirked. "You tell me."

My stomach twisted.

Because for half a second—just half a second—I thought about it.

Thought about what it would mean to be in his space, alone, away from school, away from the walls we built.

And that?

That was dangerous.

So I scoffed. Dodged.

"As much as I'd love to spend even more time with you, McCall," I said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I have better things to do."

Zayne hummed. Not convinced.

But he didn't push.

Didn't argue.

Just leaned back in his chair, watching me like he was waiting for me to slip.

Like he knew, eventually, I would.

Then, without another word, he grabbed his bag, tossed his pen onto the table, and stood.

"Game's this Friday," he muttered, more to himself than me.

Then he was gone.

And I was left standing there, heart beating way too fast, wondering why the hell I suddenly couldn't breathe.

Got it. This part is going to focus on Zayne's slow descent into obsession—how he hears the rumors, how they get under his skin, and how he tries to ignore it but fails miserably.

Meanwhile, Salomi keeps stirring the pot, pretending to be playful while actively making things worse

Zayne's POV.

Basketball was supposed to clear my head.

That was the whole point of pushing my body to the limit, of feeling the ache in my muscles, of focusing on nothing but the sound of sneakers against polished wood and the ball hitting the backboard just right.

But today?

Today, it wasn't working.

Because for the past three days, I had been hearing shit I didn't like.

And it was starting to piss me off.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, exhaling slowly, trying to keep my temper in check.

Across the court, my teammates were laughing at something, a few of them leaning against the bleachers, drinks in hand, their voices carrying over the steady echo of bouncing basketballs.

I wasn't paying attention.

Until I heard her name.

"…I mean, come on, you saw how Andre looked at her."

I froze mid-step.

Gripped the ball a little too tight.

"…Lowkey thought she'd go for McCall, but I guess she likes the smooth-talking type."

Laughter.

Not loud, but enough.

My fingers twitched.

I turned, expression blank, movements slow, calculated.

The guys didn't even notice me walking toward them.

Not until I leaned against the bleachers, silent.

Not until the air shifted.

One of them—Grayson, a senior forward—glanced up. "Yo, McCall, you good?"

I didn't answer.

Just tilted my head slightly.

"What was that?"

The group fell quiet.

A couple of them exchanged looks.

Grayson shifted slightly. "What was what?"

I tapped the basketball against the floor once, just once, the echo loud in the now-awkward silence.

"You were talking about Jasmine."

One of them chuckled under his breath. "Damn. That hit a nerve."

I ignored him.

Grayson sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Relax, dude. It's just talk."

I exhaled sharply, forcing my muscles to stay loose, my expression unreadable.

"What kind of talk?"

Grayson hesitated.

Then—he shrugged. "Nothing serious. Just… people saying she's got a thing for Andre."

I clenched my jaw.

He kept going.

"That he's into her, that maybe she's into him. Some people said they saw them talking after class."

I already knew about that.

I'd seen it.

Hadn't liked it then. Liked it even less now.

Another guy—Dylan, one of our shooting guards—smirked. "I mean, can you blame her? Dude's got that whole 'bad boy from another school' vibe going on."

Something cold curled in my stomach.

Another guy laughed. "McCall's real quiet right now."

Dylan grinned. "Yo, should we be asking him how he feels about all this?"

More laughter.

Like this was a joke.

Like this wasn't making me want to put my fist through a wall.

I exhaled slowly, forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Yeah?"

Dylan nodded. "Yeah."

I rolled the ball between my hands, casual, slow. "You think you're funny, Dylan?"

The grin slipped.

I held his stare. "Do you?"

Dylan cleared his throat. "Uh—"

I tossed the ball at him—hard.

He caught it, barely.

Didn't say shit after that.

Didn't need to.

Because now?

Now, none of them were laughing.

And that?

That was better.

I pushed off the bleachers, grabbing my water bottle before heading back toward the lockers.

Because if I stayed here any longer, I was going to do something stupid.

Locker Room .

I was halfway through pulling my jersey over my head when I heard the door open.

Footsteps. Slow. Confident.

Then—

"You're brooding."

I sighed. "Jesus Christ."

Salomi laughed, leaning against the lockers beside me, perfectly put-together, not a single hair out of place.

She crossed her arms, eyes scanning me like she was amused by something.

I grabbed my hoodie, not in the mood. "What do you want, Salomi?"

She hummed. "Just checking in."

"Bullshit."

She smirked. "Okay, fine. I was curious."

I didn't answer.

Didn't even look at her.

But she wasn't done yet.

"You know," she continued, voice light, teasing, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're upset."

I exhaled sharply. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're annoying."

She laughed. Didn't take the hint.

Instead, she tilted her head, watching me too closely.

"So," she mused, "how do you feel about Jasmine and Andre?"

My jaw tightened.

"I don't."

She grinned.

"Oh, Zayne." She tsked, shaking her head. "I almost believe you."

I ignored her.

She didn't let me.

"You know," she continued, twisting her lip gloss open, dragging the red applicator across her lips slowly, too slowly, "I heard some interesting things today."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course you did."

She smiled. "Apparently, Jasmine and Andre were getting pretty cozy in the hall earlier."

Something sharp jabbed at my ribs.

Salomi noticed.

Her smile widened.

"Oh," she added, "and someone saw them leaving together after class. Wonder where they went."

I clenched my fists.

Took a slow breath.

Didn't react.

Because if I did?

She'd win.

Salomi leaned in slightly, voice dropping. "You know what's funny, Zayne?"

I said nothing.

She pressed on.

"I remember when people used to talk about us like that."

I finally turned my head, gaze flicking to hers.

She smiled. Slow. Knowing. Dangerous.

Then—she shrugged.

"Guess she really is your replacement."

My grip on my bag tightened.

She laughed, giving me a light pat on the chest before turning toward the door.

"See you at the game, McCall."

Then she was gone.

And I was left standing there, jaw clenched, heart pounding, mind a fucking mess.

Because now?

Now, I couldn't stop thinking about Jasmine.