Chapter 1: The Nerd with a Secret

Xander

The sleek black car glided to a stop in front of Blackwood Academy, its tinted windows shielding me from the eager eyes of students loitering outside. The murmurs started before I even opened the door.

"Who’s that?"

"Damn, that’s a nice car. Is he rich?"

"Why’s he dressed like that?"

I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers into the soft material of my hoodie. The fabric was worn, comfortable, something that made me feel less... exposed. Showtime.

The door clicked open, and I stepped out. Cool autumn air wrapped around me, crisp and refreshing, but it did nothing to quiet the hum of curiosity that grew with every step I took.

Eyes followed me. Some subtle, some not. It was the car. It always was.

But then their attention shifted.

I kept my head down, adjusting my hoodie so it draped lower over my face. Thick-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of my nose, my expression carefully neutral. I wanted to blend in, to slip past the chatter and melt into the crowd, but I wasn’t exactly built for anonymity.

Six-foot-two. Broad shoulders. A presence that made people look. Even hunched over, I was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t ideal.

Blackwood Academy was exactly the kind of school I hated—exclusive, elite, and carved into social groups so rigid they might as well have been set in stone. The hierarchy was obvious from the moment I stepped into the courtyard.

At the top, the royalty—the kids whose last names carried weight outside of these walls, the ones who got away with everything because their parents made the rules.

Then the athletes. The golden boys and girls. The ones worshipped for their skill, their charm, their ability to walk into any room and own it without trying.

Next, the rich bullies—the ones who didn’t need to be good at anything because their money did the talking. They surrounded themselves with people who laughed at their jokes, supported their cruelty, and acted like they ruled the world.

And then there were the ones who didn’t fit in anywhere. The shadows. They sat back, watched, learned. Some had no choice. Others preferred it that way.

I should’ve been one of them.

But Jason Kingston wasn’t going to let that happen.

Jason had presence. He was the kind of guy who made people move out of his way without thinking, who walked with a swagger that told you he owned the space he was in. Tall, athletic, and smug in a way that said he’d never had to work for anything in his life.

He spotted me instantly.

I barely made it three steps before he stepped in front of me, a slow smirk spreading across his face. His entourage flanked him—two guys, nearly identical in their eager-to-please expressions, and a blonde girl clinging to his arm like a designer handbag.

Jason took his time looking me up and down, his smirk widening like he’d just found his new favorite toy.

“Well, well. The new kid.” His voice carried easily over the courtyard, drawing even more attention. “And here I was thinking Blackwood’s standards couldn’t get any lower.”

His lackeys snickered on cue, their laughter hollow and predictable. I didn’t react. Not yet.

I adjusted my glasses and took a step to the side, aiming to walk past him. But, of course, Jason moved with me, blocking my path again.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” He tilted his head, pretending to be intrigued. “What’s your name, nerd?”

The word nerd was meant to sting, to humiliate me in front of the growing crowd. But I’d been called worse. A lot worse.

I met his gaze briefly before answering. “Xander.”

Jason frowned. “Xander what?”

I could’ve given him my full name. I could’ve let him hear it roll off my tongue, watch his face twist as he tried to place it. But I didn’t.

“Just Xander,” I said.

Jason scoffed, glancing at his friends. “Just Xander,” he mimicked, his voice dripping with mockery. “You hear that? Sounds like someone thinks they’re too cool for last names.”

I said nothing. People like him fed on reactions, on weakness. The best way to deal with someone like Jason was to be boring, forgettable—because a bully with no audience was just another idiot with an ego problem.

I tried to step around him again. He moved with me.

“I don’t think you get how this works, Just Xander,” he drawled, his tone shifting from fake amusement to something sharper. “New kids don’t get to ignore me. You need to earn your place here. And lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today.”

I felt it before it happened.

Jason’s shoulder twitched. His stance shifted. The air between us crackled with the weight of an incoming move.

I knew what was coming before he even lifted his hand.

He reached out, fast, fingers aiming for the top of my hoodie like he was about to rip it off. A show of dominance, a way to humiliate me in front of everyone.

I should’ve let him.

I almost did.

But then he said it.

"Bet your mom must be real proud, huh? Oh wait—does she even know where you are? Or is she too busy—"

The world around me snapped into silence.

The laughter stopped. The murmurs faded.

For a split second, everything blurred at the edges, my vision narrowing to him.

Before I could even think, I moved.

Jason’s hand barely brushed my hoodie before I caught his wrist. My fingers wrapped around it in an unshakable grip, twisting just enough to make him stumble. His smirk vanished, replaced by confusion, then a flicker of something else—something close to fear.

I could break it.

One snap. One twist. It would be easy. Too easy.

The instinct was there, buried deep, screaming at me to end this before it escalated. Before Jason—or anyone else—got the wrong idea about me.

But I couldn’t.

I let go.

Jason stumbled back, his face flashing between pain and disbelief. He clutched his wrist, flexing his fingers like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

Neither could the crowd.

The shift in the atmosphere was instant. The students watching had expected a one-sided beatdown, a nerd getting humiliated by the school’s golden boy.

But that wasn’t what they’d gotten.

And then there was her.

Celeste.

She stood apart from the crowd, leaning casually against a pillar, her arms crossed. Her dark eyes were unreadable, but I knew she’d seen everything.

Unlike the others, she wasn’t whispering or gawking. She wasn’t confused.

She looked like she understood.

And that was a problem.

Jason finally found his voice, his shock quickly morphing into anger. “What the hell was that?” His voice was tight, forced, like he wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or pissed.

I didn’t answer. I adjusted my hoodie, nodded slightly, and turned away.

Jason didn’t chase after me. He didn’t throw another insult.

Because he knew.

Somewhere, deep down, he knew.

He’d picked the wrong guy.

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