Enter the Rebel
The cafeteria was the last place I wanted to be, but skipping lunch wasn’t an option—not when Vanessa would use it as more ammunition against me. I slid into my usual seat next to Sarah, keeping my head down and my focus on the sandwich I wasn’t hungry for.
Vanessa’s voice cut through the din like a knife. “I’m just saying,” she said loudly, “some people should really think twice before airing their dirty laundry.”
Her friends laughed, and my stomach twisted. I could feel the weight of their stares, but I refused to look up.
“Do you ever shut up?”
The voice was unfamiliar, sharp and lazy all at once. The laughter around Vanessa stopped abruptly, and when I glanced up, I saw him: a guy I’d never seen before, standing at the edge of the table with his arms crossed.
He was tall and lean, his leather jacket slung casually over his shoulders and his dark hair falling into his eyes. His smirk was sharp enough to rival Vanessa’s, and his piercing gaze was fixed directly on her.
“Excuse me?” Vanessa said, her tone icy.
“You heard me,” he said, his smirk widening. “Or do you need me to spell it out? You’re boring. Move on.”
The cafeteria went silent, the tension thick enough to cut. Vanessa’s mouth opened and closed, her face turning an impressive shade of red as the guy turned and walked away, his steps deliberate and unbothered.
He stopped in front of my table, his gaze flicking to me. “You don’t have to take that,” he said, his voice casual but firm.
I blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his words. “I—uh—thanks,” I managed, my cheeks flushing.
He shrugged, his smirk softening into something almost friendly. “See you around,” he said before sauntering out of the cafeteria like he owned the place.
“Who the hell was that?” Sarah asked, her voice low with awe.
“I have no idea,” I admitted, my heart still racing.
***
Later, I learned his name: Caleb Torres. He was new—just transferred in—and already had a reputation for being trouble. Rumors about him spread quickly: fights at his old school, a motorcycle he’d been caught riding without a license, and an attitude that seemed to make teachers hate him on sight.
I told myself I didn’t care, that he wasn’t my problem. But the next time I saw him—leaning against the lockers with that same infuriating smirk—I felt a strange pull, a flicker of intrigue I couldn’t ignore.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. “How’s the princess of drama doing?”
I frowned. “I’m not a princess.”
“No kidding,” he said, his grin widening. “You’ve got more fire than that.”
His words sent a jolt through me, equal parts annoying and intriguing. I didn’t need someone like Caleb in my life—he was reckless, unpredictable, everything I didn’t want.
