The Wrong Girl

Ariana wasn't even supposed to be at school that evening.

She had left her phone charger in the drama room, and being Ariana Lane, she had to get it back that same night.

The hallway was quiet… until she heard them.

Voices.

Soft. Familiar.

She rounded the corner near the back staircase and froze.

There, under the flickering emergency light, was Elijah.

And Brielle.

Pressed close together. Laughing.

Her laugh.

His smile.

Then the kiss. Not a peck. Not hesitation.

A kiss that said this was happening, and had been happening.

Ariana stood completely still. Her phone already in her hand, thumb hovering over the camera icon. She hadn't meant to, but her instincts took over.

Click.

Record.

They didn't see her.

They didn't care.

She slowly backed away, pulse roaring in her ears. Her breath shook with disbelief, hurt, rage.

She'd been by Elijah's side for years. Through the worst of it, his dad leaving, the night he showed up bloodied after defending Grace from bullies, his scholarship battles. She was always the one he turned to. The one who understood.

And now... Brielle?

That girl who flirts with chaos and walks like the world will bend for her?

No.

Not her.

Ariana stormed out of the building, fingers trembling as she rewatched the clip over and over. Brielle's hand curled around Elijah's hoodie. The way he kissed her like nothing else mattered.

She swallowed hard, something ugly rising in her throat.

"You picked the wrong girl, Elijah," she whispered, hatred curling under her tongue like poison. "And now... she'll pay for it."

Her mind raced.

Step one: Make Brielle look like the manipulator she is.

Step two: Time the release. Public. Embarrassing. Irreversible.

Let everyone see who Elijah Carter really kissed.

Let them ask why a top student is sneaking around with the school's favorite scandal magnet.

Let the cracks spread.

Let Brielle burn.