A Victim for the Week

CHAPTER 2

Kim's Pov

The pounding in my skull dragged me out of sleep.

I knew I had drunk too much, seeing as I woke up in my room, under my own sheets, dressed in clothes I definitely didn't pick.

My head throbbed like a drumbeat, my tongue felt like sandpaper.

Groaning, I slowly sat up—and that’s when I noticed the bracelet.

A thin silver chain circled my wrist, delicate and unfamiliar. One that certainly didn't belong to me.

“What is this?” I thought to myself.

The memory returned like a slap.

“Ugh,” I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. “That jerk!”

I had drunk myself sick trying to forget him, but instead I remembered everything—the way he pulled me close to him, how his lips claimed mine, more than I could have ever imagined.

I bet Mitchell was even more messed up than I was. ‘Could she have brought me home?’ I quickly grabbed my phone and called her.

She picked up and answered groggily. “It’s 7 in the morning, girl. I need my sleep”

“Who drove me home last night?” I demanded.

Mitchell groaned. “You can’t remember? It was Jett. I thought you were with him after Jason turned you down.

I froze. “Jett?”

“Yes. You caused a little scene, but nothing dramatic. I was too wasted to remember much, but… yeah, Jett got us both back home safely.”

“What kind of scene?” I demanded.

“I don’t know, babe. It wasn't too much of a deal.” Her voice faded into a yawn. “Now let me sleep.”

With that, she hung up.

I stared at the bracelet again, unease curling in my chest. Did Jett put the bracelet on me?

What kind of game was he playing? Did he tell Mitchell that Jason turned me down?

I sighed, weighed down with confusion. No matter how hard I tried, my mind circled back to the same place—replaying the kiss in my head. And it wouldn't stop.

After a long bath—and an even longer battle while trying to tame my hair—I finally got dressed and headed to class. As I walked across campus, my gaze drifted over the crowd of students. Everything looked… normal. No one stared at me, no whispers, no strange reactions.

It was just another normal day in my life. Except my mind wouldn't stop replaying one thing: Jett kissing me.

Maybe the scene hadn’t been as dramatic as I had thought. Or maybe no one cared. Either way, I wasn’t exactly proud.

I slipped into English class right before the professor walked in—and that’s when I saw him.

Jett.

Sitting two rows behind me and staring at me. Smiling with that infuriating, smug little smile on his face. Since when did he even take English?

He kept staring. Smirking. Winking.

What was wrong with him?

I whipped my gaze away—only to accidentally meet Jason’s gaze instead. My stomach twisted. I smiled… but he didn’t smile back. His face stayed cool, detached, as if I were a stranger. Maybe I always was. Didn't change the fact that I was hopelessly in love with him.

Jason was always like that: distant, kind in a vague, uninterested way that never felt personal. He was the golden boy. The sweet, quiet type who never noticed everyone around him except for hockey. He was stealthy in a beautiful way that made him hot whenever he's on the rink—fluid, untouchable, every move sharp as a blade and yet graceful.

Jett was no different—both of them were the coach’s sons, and somehow I only knew Jason and only loved him. But even then, Jett was suddenly everywhere. Smug, annoying and impossible to ignore.

When class ended, I barely made it to the hallway before Jett caught up.

“You could at least say thank you,” he said casually.

“For what?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“For carrying you home. You were like a feisty drunk gremlin—cute, but dangerous.”

He said that with a smirk spreading across his face again.

I narrowed my eyes. “You might have fooled everyone else, Jett, but not me. Are you always this much of a jerk, or have you just grown a new hobby?”

“Don't get all judgy. I may not be as famous as your crush is, but at least I don't go around kissing people just anyhow.”

“Watch your mouth! And I thought you were Jason. I didn’t know it was you. I still can't get it out of my head.”

He leaned closer, his eyes glittering. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“None of your business. Stop following me.”

“I can't”

My temper flared, and I snapped. “How many girls have you kissed pretending to be Jason?”

He chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re clueless.”

“Go away.”

“Come to our party this weekend.”

“Why? So that you can kiss me again? Not happening.”

“Oh, you’ll be there.” He winked again, walking backwards with that insufferable grin.

“I won’t!”

“You will. I’ll see you there, Princess.”

Princess?

“What gives you the right to call me that?” I snapped, storming towards him, my finger pointed at his face.

“You sure do enjoy talking to me, uh?” He said, his eyes locked onto mine, only then did I realize that I was standing far too close to him, and I quickly stumbled back.

“You just piss me off so much that I could almost punch you.”

“Yeah, right. See ya later, Princess.” He turned away and left, leaving me staring after him.

And despite myself, my thoughts lingered on his perfect body as he walked away.

“Get it together, Kimberly. He's just his brother's shadow. And you're in love with someone else. Jett can't possibly be in love with you.”

“Hey! Found you.” A voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see Daniel, my English Professor’s assistant, who was jogging over. “Mr. Chris wants to see you in his office right now. He has been looking for you.”

I nodded and went straight to his office. Once I was before the door, I knocked and pushed the door open, not waiting for an answer.

Mr. Chris’s eyes swept over me. I gripped my bag in my hands tighter.

“Sit,” he ordered. I obeyed, wondering why he called.

“Daniel said you asked to see me,” I began, hoping that he'd get straight to the point.

“Yes, I did.” He rose from his chair and walked towards me. “Do you know how insensitive it is to not know why you were called?”

I blinked. “Um… I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Chris. Can you just let me know what it is?”

He smiled slowly, his eyes trailing my body.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Chris, but that's inappropriate.” I protested.

“It wasn't inappropriate when you sent me this text.” He held out his phone.

A message glowed on the screen...