SONG RECOMMENDATION: Truly Madly Deeply- By Savage Garden
Stella slowly flipped through her math book, the jumble of numbers blurring together, making her eyelids feel heavy. Each equation felt like a weight pressing down on her, and she could feel herself drifting. After what felt like an eternity, Mr. James finally announced they could leave, and she didn't need to be told twice. Gratefully, she packed her things and bolted for the door, relief flooding her as she stepped into the hallway.
"Wait!" A voice called out, sending a chill down her spine. It was Marcus—the biggest jerk in the college. Just her luck.
She turned to face him, crossing her arms defiantly. "Hi, Marcus. Looks like you have nothing better to do," she shot back, glaring at him with a mix of annoyance and apprehension.
His smirk only widened. "It's payback time, Adams. You have to pay for my loss," he sneered, and with a wave of his hand, five boys appeared behind him, creating an imposing wall of trouble. Her heart sank as they closed in, shadows looming over her.
Stella gulped, feeling her bravado waver as the reality of the situation sunk in. There was no escaping now. She quickly assessed her options, her mind racing. She could feel their eyes on her, a mix of mockery and anticipation, ready to pounce.
Stella's heart raced as she bolted up the back stairs, the sound of footsteps echoing behind her. She burst onto the rooftop, her lungs burning from exertion. The city sprawled beneath her, but the breathtaking view offered little solace; all she could think about was the approaching danger.
Scanning the rooftop for any signs of safety, her eyes fell on Simon, who leaned casually against a wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He exuded an air of nonchalance that contrasted sharply with the tension building inside her. She felt a rush of desperation as she locked eyes with him, silently begging for his help.
Behind him, there were tables and a water tank that provided a sliver of cover. If only she could make it there before Marcus and his gang caught up with her. She took a hesitant step towards him, her heart pounding against her ribs, praying that he would understand her plight.
"Help me," her eyes pleaded, silently conveying the urgency of the moment.
Simon's dark brown eyes narrowed as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, his expression unreadable. He studied her for a heartbeat, then, he pushed off the wall and straightened up.
As the door swung open, the tension in the air thickened, and Marcus's mocking voice sliced through the rooftop silence. "Looks like you have no better thing to do than sit and smoke like a loser," he jeered, his eyes narrowing at Simon, who remained unfazed.
Simon's dark eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned back casually on the table, a confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "A kid can come up with a better insult than yours," he shot back, his tone dripping with disdain. His eyes flickered over Marcus, assessing him with a mixture of boredom and contempt. "In fact, you look like a pest in my opinion."
Stella stifled a laugh, quickly covering her mouth with her hands to suppress the laughter bubbling inside her. The bravado Simon displayed made her wonder; if he was alway like this.
"Go pick on someone your own size, or you'll become the reindeer for this Christmas's celebrations," Simon warned, his voice low and dangerous, a predatory grin spreading across his face. The implication was clear: he wouldn't hesitate to throw a punch if it came to that.
For a moment, Marcus and his gang hesitated, taken aback by Simon's audacity, They knew that messing with Simon meant inviting death.. Then, with a scowl, Marcus turned on his heel and waved his friends away. "Whatever, man. You're not worth the trouble," he muttered, retreating back through the door.
As the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance, a wave of relief washed over Stella. She couldn't believe Simon had stood up for her like that. It was unexpected, and in that moment, she felt a flicker of gratitude toward him.
"You can come out now," Simon called, his tone shifting back to its previous nonchalance.
Stella crawled out from her hiding spot behind the table and stood, dusting off her pants. Feeling awkward, she quickly walked over to the edge of the rooftop and leaned over the wall, her eyes scanning the football field below. Beside the parking lot sat her car, the familiar blue vehicle that was her and Mallory's shared mode of transport. Mallory had left it behind for Stella, knowing she'd need it after detention. They took turns driving, and today, it seemed, was Stella's.
Her eyes caught sight of Marcus and his minions milling around the parking lot, their eyes scanning for her near the car. She sighed, hoping they'd leave soon, and turned back to figure out her next move. That's when she bumped directly into Simon's chest.
Startled, she glanced up, her breath catching in her throat. Simon's dark eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, she felt frozen under his gaze. No man's stare had ever made her feel so unnerved, yet there was something electrifying about it.
"If you want to protect others," Simon said, his voice low and serious, "first learn to protect yourself. It's a waste of time to hide and run like this."
With those words, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, alone and stunned.
She blinked, still processing what had just happened. Did Simon Winchester—the Simon Winchester—actually have a conversation with her? The thought was almost impossible to believe. Sighing, she turned back, monitoring the ground.
Stella waited on the rooftop for half an hour, ensuring Marcus and his crew had truly left. Once it seemed safe, she hurried to the parking lot, hoping to escape unnoticed. But as soon as she saw the car, her heart sank—spray-painted in bold letters was the word "BITCH." She turned angry as she read it, but Panic surged through her as she imagined how Mallory would react. She knew this wouldn't go over well.
Dread filled her as she reached home. Mallory's wrath was something she never wanted to face, but she had no choice. Stella headed straight to her friend's room, her stomach churning with anxiety.
Mallory's room always gave off a chaotic vibe, one that made Stella feel like she'd entered some kind of experimental mental asylum. The room was painted a dull gray, with mismatched furniture scattered around. A red punching bag hung in one corner, while in another sat a large gaming PC. Mounted on the wall was an oversized diagram of a human brain, covered in Mallory's notes and scribbles. Below it was a smartboard with detailed, handwritten analyses of her subjects.
The most cherished item in the room was Mallory's office chair. Stella knew her friend had a soft spot for it, even though she'd never admit it. Mallory loved spinning around in that chair while deep in thought.
Just as Stella was about to sit, Mallory walked in, her presence immediately filling the room. She wore an oversized black t-shirt with bold red and white lettering, paired with baggy gray cargo shorts that had large side pockets. A bowl of instant noodles sat in her hand as she raised a brow at Stella, clearly wondering why she was standing there.
"The keys are on your table," Stella said, her voice wavering.
Mallory nodded nonchalantly, heading toward her gaming setup.
"Marcus sprayed on our car," Stella added nervously.
Mallory froze for a second. Her brown eyes darkened, and a tense silence filled the room. If there was one thing Mallory hated, it was people messing with her possessions.
"Why?" she asked, eyes still glued to the PC screen.
"I sprayed on his bike first… because he was bullying people," Stella admitted.
Mallory's fingers hovered over the mouse. "What did he spray?"
"'BITCH.'"
"Ok," Mallory said calmly, sitting down and resuming her game of Counter-Strike, completely unfazed. The sound of gunfire filled the room as she dived into the game, ignoring Stella's presence like nothing had happened.