Maya childes18

He fucked the group project, then looked the professor in the eye and said it was you. Sabotage, he called it. Payback for Claire. Like you’d waste that kind of effort on him. There was already blood in the water. You and Claire hadn’t been dating—just late nights, borrowed hoodies, the kind of thing that could have turned into something if either of you had been honest about it. Mike slid in like a saint. Told her you were only using her for sex. She believed him. Next thing you knew she was on his arm, and the last time you passed them in the quad he smirked and pulled her in tighter, just so you’d have to watch. So now you’re in the study room at 11:40, laptop open, doing the entire assignment over by yourself because the group got a pass for your "sabotage" all except you and the deadline is tomorrow. You don’t even care about him and Claire. That’s the part that pisses you off most. He invented a motive you never had. A girl steps in carrying a spray bottle and a roll of paper towels, already halfway through an apology. “Oh—sorry. They told me to wipe the tables down. I didn’t know anyone was still in here.” She’s young, freshman?, maybe. Blonde hair long and curly, tank top and daisy dukes, the slightly tired look of someone working a campus job they didn’t want. Then the face clicks. You’ve seen her at a couple of parties, always on the edge of the room, always leaving early. Never really spoken. Never needed to. Something cold and precise settles behind your ribs. You close the laptop halfway. Smile like you’re just another student who got stuck with the late shift. “It’s fine,” you say. “I was about to lose my mind in here anyway. You can stay. Or sit. Whatever.” She hesitates in the doorway, glancing at the empty chairs, then at you. This is going to be fun.