Liam St. Germain had a few reputations to date. One made him incredibly alluring to the wrong audience, and the other — entirely off putting.

  Both extremes suited him well while everything in between held little to no value.

  The nonchant eighteen year old had a cold exterior adorned in chic designer clothing and coiffed brunet curls that practically screamed, 'nepobaby'. One gnce at him would tell you about all you needed to know. Just how he liked it. Outside of a small circle of friends, he preferred to keep to himself. Teetered on reticent, in truth. It made life simple. Not that being a student was particurly difficult to begin with. People were less likely to approach someone who looked, spoke, and corresponded with their assigned rumors the way he did. Fewer people, fewer complications.

  Until money got involved.

  Once his wealth was put on dispy, typically in the form of weekly parties, then all those rumors nullified and he became the school's beloved pyboy. A cycle he repeated routinely. It made him a walking contradiction, but the boy had his reasons. Mainly, because he could. It was amusing to expose people's true nature, and served to validate his philosophies. They were all creatures of habit, driven by compulsion and dopamine spikes. Their behaviors were clear as gss at those parties, yet they would circle back the next day just to shove their hypothetical values and morality in his face. Inculpate him for their faults. A bunch of hypocrites.

  This morning was an exquisite example of that, so much so that his cheek burned from smirking as deeply as he was. The corner desk in the back of the room provided him a front row seat - ha - to the show. Jenna and Tristan were having a lover's quarrel, ricocheting retorts faster than most could follow. The gist of it was: party, kissing, big no-nos. All eyes were on them. Something Miss Jenna was quite fond of - the attention. Eventually the stout girl implicated him with a pointed finger, and an overly dramatic pout.

  "It was his party. Why are you bming me?" Well, wasn't that an interesting take. "Pretty sure he kissed me, too."

  Light hazel eyes were met with a gre from her furious counterpart, of whom had turned on their heels to face his direction. There was no way he would py into that, right? She was losing the fight! This had been her modem operandi for the st two years. But, oh, he did. Like the naive, lovesick fool he was. Heavy footsteps navigated between the desks until the football star towered over Liam. "Got anything to say about that?"

  The question earned a respectably cocked brow. "Not really."

  "You kidding me right now? You're not going to take accountability for what happened?"

  "If you don't want your girlfriend fucking everyone in school, then, I don't know, maybe don't let her go. Take her on a nice date instead." His tone was ft, complimented by the x posture he kept. The only source of hostility was from Tristan. There was nothing to truly implicate him. Jenna's ck of prudence was just as new to him as it was to her partner. As for whether he kissed her? Gross.

  The blond scoffed, "You're fucking serious right now–"

  "As a heart attack."

  That struck a nerve, apparently. Or, was it that he was calling him out? None of their affairs were exactly a secret in these halls. Whatever. Liam could see the rage festering beneath the surface, but didn't react. He wasn't the one being unreasonable here. Moreover, he was a host. Not a goddamn babysitter. What - or who - his guests did at his estate was none of his business, so long as they weren't committing arson or attempting murder. Underage drinking and drug use came with the territory. That's why non-disclosure agreements were everyone's best friend, outside the comfort of knowing that his mother was a well-known wyer. How else would those extracurricur activities be blissfully overlooked?

  "Listen, man —" Liam's voice cut off as a set of white knuckles met his jaw. The spike of adrenaline that hit his lungs spiraled him into a fit of uncomfortable ughter as he collected himself from the floor. That bastard struck him hard enough to send him out of his seat. Over something completely out of his control! The commotion stirred the room, barring one sleepy individual. "How fucking asinine." The brunet pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, in genuine amazement. Tristan was willing to resort to violence over his girlfriend. How romantic. Except it was ill-pced, and Jenna wasn't exactly known for her modesty.

  Their motley cast of peers eagerly moved out of range in an overt dispy to encourage the fight. A [06:30] brawl was just the rare sort of amusement they craved. Unfortunately for them, he wasn't here to entertain the idea. Getting his ass beat by a six-foot-three brain-dead muscle jock wasn't on his bucket list. With an athletic composition suited for leisure and swimming, not fights, he knew to pick his battles wisely. Tristan did not, nor did he care whether his opponent was half his weight.

  Another fist was readied to strike just as he stepped back. If they were set on 'teaching him a lesson', then he would at least prepare for the blow before finding an out. The motion, now that he was aware of it, led him to instinctively squeeze his eyes shut. This would have been his karma for relishing in the drama, if he believed in that sort of ideal. In reality, this was just an unfavorable happenstance caused by an idiot and his girlfriend. Totally circumstantial.

  Sure enough, a messy impact nded against his face. It was cold. Wet. Disgust and confusion contorted his expression as chuckled gasps filled the room, followed by the sound of ice dropping against the speckled linoleum. What he opened his eyes to was...hirious.

  Quinn Hartfield, one of his closest friends, had wasted her ten dolr iced coffee at his expense. A big deal for someone with a budding caffeine addiction. Tristan shook himself off, a string of swears on his tongue as he whipped around to face her. Her attention was on everyone but him, a grimace on her bonny features as she scanned the room. She spurned the idea that their cssmates were short-sighted enough to exhort a fight on school property. The walls were lined with posters discouraging that behavior! Which was a tame warning provided how strict the school actually was.

  "Everyone within a five mile radius just heard about your little problem, dude," that expined why she was there, "She's out there crying that you're accusing her of cheating, again, and you're in here wailing on him?" The way she protracted 'him' was a touch offensive.

  Tristan immediately protested with, "It was his fucking party! And, she said he kissed her too".

  "You can't be that stupid. He's —" She paused to reconsider her next words, then wholeheartedly continued her onsught, making sure everyone could hear it. "Y'know what? Maybe if you weren't so insecure about that a-cup equivalent in your pants, you'd realize that the world doesn't revolve around you and Jenna. No one gives a fuck about your problems."

  It was a low blow, but it did the job. His red-eared aggressor decided it was best to swallow his ego, tuck his tail, and run. She was, after all, a part of the school committee. Daughter of the vice president, to boot. It would only take a handful of witnesses and her word to ruin his 'promising career', and he knew that. The others returned to their seats with apparent disappointment.

  "God, I hate people." She grumbled, then huffed at the mess that was left.

  "You and I both." Liam chimed in, his smirk returning. "Thanks for being a bitch."

  The two shared a ugh before the brunet decided it 'just wasn't his day'. His newly aching jaw was a perfect excuse to slip away, which is precisely what he did after stopping by the nurse's office. Always good to have a solid alibi that wasn't your friend. Doubly so given their spring semester was drawing to an end. Some teachers were lenient this time of year for juniors, while others found enjoyment in torturing their students to the very st second. Ditching csses was a prime reason for those few to instate unspeakable cruelty. In the form of detention, supplementary work, and unnecessary tests usually. The extra work wasn't an issue for him as much as it was an inconvenience. He'd much rather ze about and waste his time with bad habits while he still could. What teenager didn't?

  There wasn't anything quite like a bitter cigarette on a chilly May morning, the sunrise at its peak while commuters zipped by on their fancy e-bikes. It was busy enough that no one cared about his presence. Not that many would. The suburbs of New York were just as notorious as the inner city for their apathetic popuce. People had jobs. Kids. Mortgages! All horrors he couldn't rete to, but understood well enough in concept. They didn't have a second to waste on some rich brat smoking on a graffitied bench in Huguenot Park. Hell, not even the geese gave a shit.

  The solitude was welcomed with open arms, literally. With both arms spanning along the back of the bench, his head reclined and eyes closed, the boy was comfortable, nguidly taking drags of his cancer stick and drowning out the world with some good ol' alternative rock as he basked. This was undeniably better than listening to a middle aged man drone on about chemicals. Liam believed he had no reason to care about the standardized curriculum, as it were, especially if it was irrelevant to following in his mother's footsteps. His life was already mapped out for him. As long as he retained an immacute GPA, no one cared about what he did.

  Which was fine by him.

  Liam's reprieve was cut short when the bench rocked brutishly beneath him. His body jolted as if it were about to drop from a ten story building! One of his earbuds had even fallen out of pce. The butt of his cigarette, too. The panic had washed the color right out of his rosy complexion despite how hot his skin had become. "Jesus fuc—" The words wouldn't make it out before a dainty hand csped over his mouth from behind. What now?! A deeper voice, one that dripped with a distinctly honeyed youthfulness, whispered as the mysterious hand slipped away. "I need you to cover me. Just...act natural." The brunet was beside himself hearing the request. Act natural? They had to be joking...

  A few uneventful minutes passed, and no matter how he tried to convince himself that he was being punked at this point, his heart refused to settle. It was tempting to look over his shoulder to confront them. Oh, so tempting. They couldn't be much older than him from the sound of their voice, and that hand was a pretty good indicator that they weren't the sporty type. He could win this fight. It'd be self-defense.

  This is ridiculous. Today is ridiculous.

  "Hey! You shithead!" A young woman's voice bellowed from around the bend, her stilettos ccking as she - quite impressively - covered the distance between them. She had undoubtedly caught sight of the person behind him. Her eyes were narrowed and pointed beyond his shoulder. It wasn't his problem now...yet he had vacuously jumped - or was he forced? - to his feet and stood stiffly as he became the middle man. A pair of hands colpsed at his sides, shuffling him around like a damn shield while the woman attempted to dance around him. Everything was happening so quickly that he narrowly avoided toppling over. It was a bit terrifying, if he were to be honest.

  The one at his rear muttered a quick apology amidst the chaos, then relinquished his reign of terror. Foreign words - Korean possibly - and the name 'Christian' were exchanged between the two individuals as the other boy sprinted away. Liam's curiosity got the best of him, of course. His gaze followed the woman as she jogged around him then set upon the slender figure that soon disappeared. It was no wonder she spotted him immediately. There was an easel sticking out of his bag. Caught up in the moment, he ughed. Softly at first, then aloud. I really need to go home. It's not even [09:30].

  He bravely turned his back on the woman, not realizing she was approaching him, and searched around the bench for his items. Both earbuds were secured in their case, and the butt tucked into the pack for future disposal. When he rose, he was met with a pair of sharp eyes. "Aren't you one of his cssmates? Shouldn't you be in css?" Her motherly tone turned him into stone for a split second.

  "Nope! Have a good day, ma'am." And with that, he hastily walked in the opposite direction, not daring to look back. His scene in this horror show was over. Her cursing about ungrateful kids skipping school was enough for him to keep his head straight. Whoever that Christian guy was, he'd wish him luck.