Chapter 1

I stared at my AP Physics test paper, my pencil hovering over question 12. The differential equation stared back at me, practically begging to be solved. One year ago, I could have knocked this out in my sleep.

Instead, I wrote down the wrong formula and circled answer choice C.

"Time's up!" Mrs. Henderson called out, and I slid my paper across the desk with a heavy sigh that wasn't entirely fake.

Tyler was waiting for me outside the classroom, leaning against the lockers in that effortless way that made half the girls at Westfield Academy lose their minds. His golden hair caught the afternoon light filtering through the hallway windows, and those ocean-blue eyes found mine immediately.

"How'd it go, babe?" He pushed off the wall and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

I let my face crumple just a little. "Terrible. I think I failed."

"Hey." His voice got softer, and he turned me to face him. "Community college isn't that bad, you know? We could go together."

Community college.

I wanted to laugh. Or maybe cry. Because exactly twelve months ago, I was solving quantum mechanics problems for fun. Now Tyler Brooks was reassuring me that community college wasn't that bad, and the twisted part was—some small, pathetic piece of me actually felt comforted by it.

"You really think so?" I asked, letting my voice get smaller.

"Absolutely." He kissed my forehead, and my heart did this annoying little skip. "Besides, you've got me to help you study."

Right. Study.

Tyler's idea of helping me study involved a lot of Netflix and very little actual studying. Which was exactly what Valentina Roseheart had counted on when she'd sent him my way.

"Come on," he said, taking my hand. "Let's grab lunch."

The cafeteria was buzzing with its usual chaos. I let Tyler guide me to our table—his table, really, where the golden boys of Westfield Academy held court. Football players, lacrosse stars, the sons of Connecticut's elite. A year ago, I would have walked past this table without a second glance.

Now I belonged here. Sort of.

"Tyler got you completely wrapped around his finger, hasn't he?"

I looked up to find Valentina standing beside our table, perfectly manicured fingers resting on her hip. She was gorgeous in that effortless, old-money way—blonde hair that probably cost more to maintain than most people's cars, skin that had never seen a blemish, and a smile that could cut glass.

"What do you mean?" I asked, blinking innocently.

"Oh, nothing." Her smile widened. "It's just sweet how devoted you are. Following him around like a little puppy."

The guys at the table shifted uncomfortably. Tyler's jaw tightened.

"Val," he warned.

"I'm just saying, it's amazing how much someone can change for love." Her eyes glittered with something sharp and cold. "Remember when you used to actually care about your grades, Ashley?"

I felt Tyler's hand squeeze mine under the table. Protective. Possessive. Maybe a little bit real.

"People change," I said softly. "Priorities shift."

"Indeed they do." Valentina's gaze swept over me one more time, taking in my deliberately messy hair, my slightly too-tight sweater, the way I was practically glued to Tyler's side. "Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone."

She glided away, her designer heels clicking against the cafeteria floor.

I waited until she was out of earshot before letting out a shaky breath.

"Ignore her," Tyler murmured, his thumb tracing circles on my hand. "She's just bitter."

Bitter. That was one way to put it.

Valentina Roseheart had been the undisputed queen of Westfield Academy since freshman year. Valedictorian track, Harvard legacy, daddy's endless donations keeping the school in designer textbooks. She'd had it all mapped out—until I came along and snatched the one thing money couldn't buy.

The Presidential Scholarship. Full ride to any college in the country. Merit-based, need-based, and utterly beyond the reach of even Roseheart family influence.

I'd won it fair and square, and it had driven her absolutely insane.

So she'd decided to destroy me the only way she knew how—through the one weakness every teenage girl supposedly had.

Boys.

Specifically, her ex-boyfriend. The golden god sitting next to me, whose hand was still wrapped around mine, whose cologne was making my head spin just a little bit.

Tyler Brooks had been Valentina's for two years. Her perfect accessory, her arm candy, her willing accomplice in maintaining the natural order of things. Then she'd whispered poison in his ear and sent him my way with very specific instructions.

Make the scholarship girl fall in love. Make her forget why she's here. Make her choose you over her future.

The plan was working beautifully.

At least, that's what they thought.

"You're quiet," Tyler said, nudging my shoulder. "You okay?"

I looked up at him—really looked. The concern in his eyes seemed genuine. His thumb was still moving in those gentle circles across my knuckles. When he looked at me like that, it was easy to forget that this had all started as a game.

"Just thinking about the test," I lied.

"Forget about it." He leaned closer, and I caught a hint of his mint gum. "You know what? Let's ditch afternoon classes. My parents are in the Hamptons until Sunday."

Ditch classes. Six months ago, I would have rather died than skip AP Literature. Now I was nodding before I could stop myself.

"Really?"

"Really." His smile was crooked, boyish, devastating. "We could order Thai food, watch that movie you mentioned..."

We could do other things too, his eyes seemed to say.

My phone buzzed against the table. A message notification lit up the screen, and my blood went cold.

Ms. Peterson: Ashley, I'd like to discuss your recent grade trends. Can you stop by my office after school today?

My college counselor. The one person who'd been tracking my academic trajectory since sophomore year. The one person who knew exactly what I was capable of.

I deleted the message and looked back at Tyler, who was watching me with those impossibly blue eyes.

"Thai food sounds perfect," I said, and meant it.

Because the truth was, I was enjoying this. The constant attention, the way Tyler looked at me like I was the only girl in the world, the feeling of being wanted by someone who could have anyone. Even knowing it was all built on lies, even knowing Valentina was pulling the strings—there was something addictive about being Tyler Brooks' girlfriend.

Maybe that made me weak. Maybe it made me pathetic.

But it also made me human.

And humans, I'd learned, were capable of holding two truths at the same time: I could enjoy Tyler's company while planning Valentina's downfall. I could let myself feel something real for him while using him as a weapon.

I could be the perfect girlfriend and the perfect enemy, all at once.

Tyler stood up, offering me his hand. "Ready to get out of here?"

I took it, letting him pull me to my feet.

Ms. Peterson would have to wait.

I had a reputation to maintain.