Theo's pov
There she was. Late, as usual.
Val slid into the seat next to me in History like she was sneaking into a secret club meeting. Her hair was wind-blown, cheeks flushed—probably from skating, or maybe just rushing through the hallway. Either way, she looked... way too good for this crusty old classroom.
I smirked, leaning a little closer without even meaning to.
"Nice of you to finally join us," I whispered, flicking my pen in her direction.
She turned her head, trying to hide a smile. "Shut up, Dodge."
"What's wrong? Couldn't find your glittery skates so you just ran here in sneakers?" I nudged her foot under the desk.
She kicked my ankle, not hard but definitely on purpose. "At least I don't take three hours fixing my hair before class. What's that—gel or desperation?"
I chuckled low in my throat. "A little of both. Girls like it."
She laughed. That kind of laugh that slipped out before she could stop herself. And damn—it was warm and real and way too contagious because now I was grinning like an idiot. For a second, we weren't rivals or classmates or whatever the hell we were supposed to be. Just... two idiots having a dumb moment.
But then she realized it too.
Her smile faded into a suspicious squint. "Wait. Why are you being nice?"
"Why are you laughing at my jokes?" I shot back.
"Because it was sad. Like, pitiful funny. Like I-laughed-out-of-pity kind of funny."
"Oh, please. You were cackling. Admit it—you like me."
"Like a cold," she replied sweetly, flipping open her history notebook. "Annoying, inconvenient, and lasts way too long."
I raised a brow. "You think you're clever. You're just compiling insults from fanfics, aren't you?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You would not survive one chapter in the kind of books I read."
"Plot armor, baby," I said, tapping my temple. "Main character energy."
Before she could respond with another death threat in the form of a compliment, Mr. Bennett walked in, dramatically slamming a stack of books on the table.
"Alright, let's get this over with," he said, adjusting his glasses and clearly already done with our existence.
Now, for once in our school's boring history, we weren't just reading about ancient wars or dusty treaties. A few weeks ago, the class begged Mr. Bennett for something different—something that didn't involve memorizing the Treaty of Versailles again. Surprisingly, he agreed. The deal was: read a modern book with historical themes, and today, we'd discuss it like some sort of fancy book club.
The book?
The Summer I Turned Pretty.
God help us all.
Mr. Bennett cleared his throat. "Let's begin. Who wants to start?"
A couple students gave their thoughts—surface-level stuff. "I liked the beach setting." "I thought Jeremiah was sweet." "Conrad was moody, but hot."
I was busy doodling some nonsense in my notebook when I noticed Mr. Bennett looking... directly at Val.
"Val," he said, "you're new to this class, but surely you've read the book?"
Val blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, yeah. A while ago. I remember it... mostly."
Mr. Bennett nodded. "Share your thoughts, then."
She hesitated, but then something shifted. That glint in her eyes when she talked about something she actually liked? Yeah, it was there.
"I think the book shows how messy first love is," she started, slowly. "Like, Belly was in this complicated place—torn between two people, trying to figure out who she really is. She's not perfect. Neither is Conrad. But that's the point."
She paused, then added, "And before anyone says Jeremiah was the better choice—he wasn't. She knew Conrad was the one. From the start."
I leaned toward her, pretending to be serious. "So you're Team Broody and Repressed?"
She side-eyed me. "At least I don't root for guys who treat women like backup options."
"Oh, come on," I scoffed. "Conrad was emotionally unavailable 90% of the time. At least Jeremiah actually communicated."
Val turned to me fully now, all fire and attitude. "Jeremiah was safe. He was the distraction. People don't always fall for what's easy, Theo. Sometimes they fall for the one person who makes them feel like the world could end and they'd still choose them."
I blinked. Damn.
"Still," I said, leaning back with a smug grin, "she ended up crying alone on a beach, so... that's not exactly goals."
"You clearly didn't read the last few chapters properly," she snapped. "He left because he didn't want to hurt her. And she still waited. People do that for love. You wouldn't get it."
My smirk faded.
"Really?" I muttered. "You think pushing people away is love?"
"Sometimes love is messy," she said. "Sometimes people push because they're scared they'll ruin the one good thing they have."
And boom. Suddenly, we weren't talking about the book anymore.
We were just... talking.
Our voices had gotten sharper. The air in the room heavier. A few classmates had turned in their seats, eyebrows raised.
Mr. Bennett's voice cut through the tension. "Okay, enough."
We both snapped our heads toward him like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
"This was supposed to be a literary discussion, not a personal therapy session. Both of you—detention. Today. After school."
Val opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand.
"And no more books in this class. Back to the French Revolution next week. Happy?"
A collective groan filled the room. A girl behind me muttered, "Why do they always ruin everything?"
Another chimed in, "They can't go five minutes without drama."
Val sank low in her seat, arms crossed, glaring at the front board like she wanted to set it on fire.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye.
"You know," I whispered, "this might be the most fun I've ever had in this class."
She didn't look at me. But she did mumble, "Shut up, Dodge."
And I swear... she smiled. Just a little.