Second Place to Her Heart.

Xan's POV.

Flashback - The Beginning.

The first time I met Jasmine Thompson, she had a scraped knee, a broken hair tie, and the meanest glare I'd ever seen on a six-year-old.

She was standing on top of the jungle gym, arms crossed, blue eyes burning with defiance as she stared down at a group of boys who had just told her she "couldn't be king" of the playground because she was a girl.

I watched from the swings as she planted her feet, lifted her chin, and did the most Jasmine thing possible.

She pushed the biggest kid off the jungle gym.

It was a miracle she didn't get expelled that day.

Instead, she got a detention slip, a warning from the teacher, and a best friend.

Because after school, I found her sitting alone on the swings, scowling at her scuffed-up sneakers like they had personally betrayed her.

I sat next to her, offered her half my granola bar, and said, "You totally deserved that detention."

She scowled. "I totally didn't."

I shrugged. "Still, you looked cool doing it."

And that was it.

That was how I fell into Jasmine Thompson's orbit and never left.

Present Day.

Two Weeks After the Project Began.

Falling for Jasmine was never the plan.

But I guess neither was watching her fall for someone else.

I leaned against my car, hands stuffed into my pockets, watching students spill out of the main building after another long day at Westrange High.

My eyes immediately found her.

Jasmine.

Dressed in her neatly pressed uniform, arms folded over her notebook, head tilted slightly as she laughed at something Ava was saying.

But I wasn't looking at her smile.

I was looking at him.

Zayne.

Standing a few feet away, talking to one of the project coordinators.

Talking-but watching her.

Not obviously. Not enough for anyone else to notice.

But I did.

Because I always did.

His gaze flickered toward her, subtle, unreadable, too smooth to be accidental.

Like he was measuring something. Calculating. Waiting.

And maybe the worst part?

Jasmine didn't even notice.

She wasn't avoiding him like she had been before.

She wasn't throwing snarky remarks his way.

She was just existing, completely unaware of the fact that Zayne McCall was looking at her like he already owned a piece of her.

And I hated that.

Because two weeks ago, she told me about the kiss.

Flashback.

The Moment She Told Me.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, fingers twisting the hem of her oversized hoodie, cheeks still tinted pink from admitting what happened in the library.

And I?

I forced a smile. Pretended it didn't matter.

"That's wild," I said, leaning back in my chair, keeping my tone light, teasing. "You and McCall? Who would've thought?"

She groaned. "I know. It's insane."

You have no idea.

I tapped my fingers against my knee, masking the tightness in my chest. "So... what now?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "Are you gonna do it again?"

She choked. "No! God, no."

Liar.

I could tell, even then.

The way she avoided my gaze, the way she bit her lip, the way her fingers kept fidgeting like she was trying to convince herself it didn't mean anything.

She was lying.

And I let her.

Because what else could I do?

Present Day.

The Internal Struggle.

Two weeks.

Two weeks of watching her get pulled deeper and deeper into whatever the hell this thing with Zayne was becoming.

Two weeks of telling myself I didn't care.

Two weeks of knowing that no matter how much time I spent with her, no matter how many years of friendship we had, no matter how well I knew her-

I was never going to be the one she looked at that way.

And that realization hit harder than I expected.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair as I pushed off my car.

I wasn't going to sit here and mope like a fucking cliché.

I wasn't going to resent her for not seeing me the way I saw her.

Because Jasmine wasn't mine to keep.

She never had been.

And maybe she never would be.

But one thing was for sure.

If Zayne McCall was going to steal her from me...

He was going to have to earn it.