The owner of the voice leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
He was brown-skinned, incredibly tall, well over six feet. His hair—a dark sheen of a raven's wing—fell carelessly across his forehead. The guitar case slung over his back gave him a restless edge.
Melanie's eyes widened a bit when she took notice of the earrings and cufflinks on his ears, and the intricate tattoos on his neck and arms that ran from shoulder to wrist. Her eyes further trailed downwards and noted how his biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirt. The fitted black shirt he wore outlined his broad chest and toned muscular abs.
When Melanie stared a second too long, he scowled.
"You done staring yet, or should I strike a pose?" His tone was sharp and impatient, like her very existence had already inconvenienced him.
Heat crawled up her cheeks, and her brows snapped together. "Hey! I wasn't staring."
"Oh right," he dragged the words out, rolling his eyes with slow sarcasm. "You were just… burning a hole in my shirt with your eyes for fun."
Melanie's mouth opened, ready to fire back, but he was already adjusting his guitar strap, his gaze flicking lazily over her suitcases before landing back on her.
"Next time you wanna gawk, maybe do it faster. Some of us have places to be."
Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Excuse me?"
"Look, I'm not in the mood for small talk with you right now. Could you just move? You're standing in the way," he said gruffly.
Melanie crossed her arms, lips parting in disbelief. "Wow. And here I was thinking you were just grumpy. Turns out you're also rude. Really rude."
He gave a humourless smirk. "And here I was thinking you had better things to do than block doors."
Her glare sharpened, hot enough to burn a hole straight through him. He reminded her of those four mean girls, except this guy wasn't catty or dramatic. He was blunt, unapologetic, and that somehow made it worse.
Melanie's stomach twisted with irritation. First the four witches in the hallway, and now him? Was Crestmoor full of rude, entitled jerks, or had the universe just decided to dump them all on her today?
"Hey! You have no right to talk to a lady like that!" she snapped, her voice rising. "You lack manners, okay? If no one's told you yet, well, I'm telling you now. Not only are you manner less, you are so, so rude!"
Melanie kept on talking, while him? He just sighed, peeling himself off the wall with infuriating calm.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, he rolled his eyes like she was a buzzing fly he couldn't be bothered to swat. Then, without a word, he shouldered past her and pushed the office door open.
Melanie's jaw dropped. "Hey, I'm not done talking!" she called after him, anger flaring.
But the door clicked shut in her face, cutting her off like she was nothing.
Melanie was beyond mad right now, she was seething in fact.
The nerve of this dude! I hate it. Absolutely hate it.
She groaned inwardly. Of course her day had to start like this. Just why?! Other people's days were probably full of smiles, and small talks. Hers? A train wreck.
She took a steadying breath, reaching for the doorknob again, determined this time. She was going to open it, walk in, and pretend like the universe hadn't just declared war on her.
Except she didn't even get the chance. The door swung open and there he was. Mr. Grumpy himself.
She glared at him with every ounce of resentment she could summon. He, on the other hand, merely arched a perfectly sculpted brow that looked like it had been carved by the gods. And of course, he had to look annoyingly hot while doing it.
They locked eyes. One long, silent standoff. A full minute of pure, unspoken challenge, until he rolled his eyes like she was the ridiculous one, brushed past her, and rammed her arm hard enough to make her wince.
"Hey! Watch it!" she snapped, teeth clenched. Was 'excuse me' not in his vocabulary?
But then again, what could she expect from a guy like him? He was rude, grumpy, and probably so bored of his mundane life that he acted out by being an outright jerk.
No, scratch that.
An asshole. That was what Melanie would call him. A complete, unapologetic asshole.
With a huff, she shoved those thoughts aside and finally stepped into the office.
Behind the desk sat a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. Her glasses perched low on her nose, eyes glued to the computer's screen as her fingers flew across the keyboard.
When she heard footsteps, she looked up and smiled warmly at Melanie.
"Welcome to Crestmoor Academy. How may I help you?"
Melanie returned the smile. "Oh, I'm new. I just wanted to collect my key, and maybe get some other information."
"Of course, no problem. What's your name, dear?" the woman asked politely.
"Melanie Chambers," she replied.
The woman typed quickly, then glanced up over her glasses. "Melanie Chambers, right?"
Melanie nodded.
"Perfect." The woman handed her a small stack of files. "Here's everything you'll need to get settled, and a few tips for surviving your first week." She reached into a drawer, pulled out a shiny brass key, and slid it across the desk. "Room 165. North Wing. Don't lose it unless you enjoy begging."
Melanie tucked the files under her arm and picked up the key. "Thank you."
"Have a wonderful day ahead, Chambers," said the woman as she went back to typing.
Melanie smiled. Since stepping into Crestmoor, this woman was the only genuinely kind person she'd met.
Maybe not everyone here is completely awful after all, she thought, letting herself hope just a little.
When she stepped outside, a cool evening breeze swept past, ruffling her red hair as she made her way toward the girls' dormitory. The path was quiet, lined with soft shadows from the tall trees, and the faint scent of evening flowers lingered in the air.
It didn't take her long to reach the dorm. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, her eyes darting around nervously.
"Melanie! Melanie!" a voice called from behind.
Melanie quickly froze in her steps when she heard her name. She turned to see who it was, but before she could get a clear look, the person enveloped her in a warm hug.
"I'm so glad you're here, Melly. I've missed you so, so much." Melanie beamed, her chest loosening with relief. That voice—warm, and familiar—was one she'd recognize anywhere even in her sleep. It was her sister, Tiffany.
"I've missed you too, Tiffany," she said.
Tiffany pulled away from the embrace, hands resting on Melanie's shoulders. She immediately noticed how weighed down Melanie looked; two suitcases in her hands and a stack of files awkwardly tucked under her arm. With a gentle smile, she took one of the suitcase from her.
"Here, let me help you," she said softly.
"Thanks."
"Soo, how've you been?" Tiffany asked with a bright smile as they started walking together.
"Before I came to Crestmoor Academy I've been good, really good. But now? I don't think so. I had a really bad encounter with some persons," she spoke, her brows furrowing as her mind replayed the earlier incident with those sassy girls and that grumpy asshole.
"Geez, is it just me or are the students in this school just being jerks, rude, and totally stupid? Look, I was walking in the hallway, admiring the beautiful artifacts and portraits when I mistakenly tripped on something and crashed into someone. Gosh, the girl whose name was Chloe, I think, acted like her world had just come to an end. Yeah, I broke her manicured nail, which I apologized for! I swear, the world must revolve around her perfectly manicured fingers. And not to speak of, she and her minions were insulting me," Melanie said, exasperated.
Tiffany tried not to laugh, but her lips twitched. She could already picture what had gone down between Melanie and those girls, and honestly, it had to be hilarious.
"They kept calling me fat. Fat! Can you believe it? Just because I tripped…" she paused, looking thoughtful for a second. "Wait, hold on. Tiffany, am I fat?"
"Mmm…" Tiffany's eyes swept over Melanie from head to toe.
Melanie wasn't fat, but she wasn't slim like those girls from earlier, or slender like her sister either. She was soft and plump in all the right places, with curves that filled her figure, full breasts, wide hips, and a shape that stood out whether she liked it or not.
Tiffany gave her a slow once-over, her lips curving into a grin.
"You just gained a little weight. That's all."
"A little?!" Melanie gasped, then shut her eyes tightly as she groaned. "Ugh! This is damn horrible, Tiffany."
"Come on Melly, look on the bright side. You got the curves. Soft hips, full boobs, the whole package."
She poked Melanie lightly in the side and chuckled. "Trust me, those girls were just jealous that you've got the curves and they don't. Just forget them."
Melanie nodded, her lips pursed. "I tried to, but then it got worse. In the admin office, there was this guy—"
Tiffany's eyes widened instantly, cutting her off. "A guy?"
Melanie sighed. "Yes. Grumpy, rude, and full of himself."
Tiffany leaned closer to Melanie, her grin broadening. "Was he hot?"
"Really Tiffany?" she deadpanned, rolling her eyes.
Tiffany flipped her chestnut hair and said, "What? A girl needs to know if a guy is smoking hot. So answer my question, was he hot?"
The image of the guy flashed in Melanie's mind: his brown skin, dark hair, broad shoulders, and that annoyingly perfect chest. Ugh. Despite hating him so much that she'd love nothing more than to punch his ass, it would be a sin on her part to say he wasn't smoking hot.
"Yeah. He's hot."
"O.M.G. Tell me everything. Tall? Broad shoulders? A smolder?" Tiffany asked, eyes glittering.
"What? Tiffany that's not the point—"
"I bet he's the broody type."
"You mean grumpy type," she responded flatly.
"Oh whatever," Tiffany rolled her eyes, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm sure he's the kind who leans against the walls like he owns the hallway. Sharp jawline, tattoos maybe? Messy hair that somehow looks perfect…" she fanned herself with her hand. "Mmm, Melly that's the good stuff."
Melanie shot her sister a pointed look. "Um, hello? He literally shoved past me and nearly broke my arm. That guy's a jerk."
"Oh. My. Gosh. Hot and rude? He's totally my type. Me? The most beautiful and popular girl and he? The brooding bad boy. We're a perfect match, Melly!"
"Seriously?" Melanie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You're impossible."
"No, no, listen," Tiffany said. "I'm serious. A hot, moody guy who doesn't care what anyone thinks? That's the dream, Melly! Geez, haven't you read it in stories? The guy's hot and always a bad boy and when he eventually falls in love, he could burn the whole world just for his girl."
"Tiffany, that's fantasy. This is reality! The guy I met is fucking rude and pretty looks like someone who wouldn't even lift a finger for his girl, that's if he has one."
"Melly, could you just stop being a buzz kill?"
"Fine, fine. You can get your heart broken like those girls in the stories," Melanie said, already annoyed, wondering why her sister had to be such a hopeless romantic.
"Melly, it's a slow progress. Eventually, we'll fall hard for each other and he will burn the whole universe just to be with me. Isn't that romantic?" Tiffany let out a dreamy sigh as she rested her head on Melanie's shoulder.
Melanie rolled her eyes at Tiffany's statement. Of course her sister would gush over a guy she hadn't even met, classic Tiffany. Always living in that fairytale bubble of hers where every frog had a crown tucked somewhere and every jerk was just one kiss away from becoming Prince Charming.
Annoying? Yes. Surprising? Not at all. This was Tiffany being… well, Tiffany.
"Anyway…" she raised her head up, switching the topic of discussion. "Melly, there's this party coming up and I would love it if you could come. I won't take no as an answer."
"Party? No way," Melanie said, looking surprised and reluctant. "Tiffany, you know I can't go for parties. I don't even know anybody apart from you and Noah."
Tiffany stopped walking, and so did Melanie. They found themselves in a wide hallway, rooms lined neatly on either side, each door marked with a number.
She crossed her arms over her chest and said, "Melly, it's time you stop acting like a kid. You're nineteen and finally in college. Look, Melly, college isn't middle school, okay? So stop acting like… this." She raised her hand, moving up and down in front of Melanie.
"Melly, trust me, this party is going to be exciting. You will make new friends, have some fun, and you will even see that your asshole of a boyfriend. Come on girl, loosen up a bit. Stop locking yourself up. Let yourself free and explore the world. Geez, must I speak Japanese before you understand?"
"Tiffany, I would love to go. But—"
"But what?"
Melanie sighed as she ran a hand through her hair, feeling worried. "I don't know Tiffany. What if I… what about mom?"
Tiffany placed her hand on Melanie's shoulder and gave a comforting smile. "Mom? No one's gonna tell her about it. It's a secret between us. Melly, I do understand that things had been pretty rough for you, but how long will you hold onto it? Melly, the past is in the past so let it go. I want you to come… at least for my sake."
Melanie still looked reluctant, uncertainty written all over her face. She wasn't the party type, never had been, never would be. But her resolve was slowly crumbling under Tiffany's pleas and that persuasive look in her eyes.
"Fine," she said at last. "But I'll only think about it."
Tiffany squealed excitedly as she clapped her hands.
"Speaking of which, how's mom?" she asked. "Gosh, I remember when mom dropped me off here for the first time. She was practically fussing over every little thing. I told her I'd be fine but she kept on saying, 'I'll really miss you so much, Tiff. I wonder why my little baby had to grow up too fast.' Geez, I told her she should stop being so dramatic," Tiffany laughed as she recalled the moment.
Melanie's face dimmed with sadness. Of course mom fussed over Tiffany, she always did. Meanwhile, when it came to her… nothing. Not even a proper goodbye.
It shouldn't hurt anymore, Melanie told herself, but it still did. She'd learned to expect less from her mother, but sometimes that emptiness was too sharp to ignore.
"Mom kept on hugging me till I was out of breath. Could you believe that, Melly? By the way, how was mom's reaction when she dropped you off here?" Tiffany asked, unaware of the sadness blooming in Melanie's chest.
No matter how hard Melanie tried to bottle it up, her face gave her away.
"You know mom. She was… busy on a phone call that she didn't even know when I left the car."
"Oh." Tiffany's smile faltered.
The air instantly grew heavy between them. Melanie's sadness lingered in her eyes, raw and unbidden, while guilt flashed across Tiffany's face. She hadn't meant to rub salt in the wound. Regret settled on her features, but it was too late, the words had already slipped out.
"Anyway…" Tiffany tugged at Melanie's arm, smiling. "Come on, let's get you set. I'm gonna show you around, and trust me, you're going to love this school, I mean LOVE this school. It's awe-some!" She dragged Melanie along, her voice full of excitement as she rattled off bits about the best hangout spots, the strict professors to avoid, and the little hacks that made surviving Crestmoor easier.
Melanie smiled at her sister, her chest warming. Tiffany was caring, sweet, and endlessly loving, always had been, especially during Melanie's loneliest moments. She was the one person who had never made her feel invisible.
If only mom had been like that, Melanie thought wistfully. But she knew better. Wishes like that never came true. Not for her.
Shaking off the heaviness, she leaned into Tiffany's chatter, letting her sister's enthusiasm pull her in. Soon enough, she found herself laughing too, swapping stories, filling in the gaps of all they'd missed.
By the time they reached Melanie's dorm room, the weight of the day felt just a little lighter.