LIKE LOVE OBSESSION

I rolled out of bed at my usual 6:00 a.m., adrenaline kicking in as I faced the first day of my journey at Rosewood High School. Rosewood isn't your typical school—it's like the VIP lounge of high schools, catering to the upper crust, the ultra-elite. Think top 0.1% of the wealth pyramid.People throw shade at Rosewood, calling it a breeding ground for the next wave of trust fund babies, and yeah, they've got a point. But here's the thing—I didn't walk through these gates with a fat bank account. I got here on grit, hustle, and a spot in the special program—a golden ticket for kids like me whose families are far from loaded. Getting that spot felt like hitting the jackpot, only this prize is an education.The rich kids? They buy their way in, no problem. Drop a check, and they're in, ready to flex their way through the halls. But I'm here to make a different mark—my own. To study hard, make my mom proud, and pave my path. No handouts from my dad, no trust funds—just sheer hard work. That's the plan. Let's do this.

Growing up, my family was no stranger to rough times. My dad? He had a love affair with the bottle. Our nights weren't about bedtime stories and peace; they were about Dad and his buddies knocking back drinks until dawn, bringing chaos and tension into our home. When he finally stumbled back, it was like stepping into a war zone. Arguments erupted, plates shattered, and my mom took the worst of it. Emotions flew higher than kites on a windy day.But my mom? She was a trooper. She stayed because we needed the money, to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table for me and my little sister, Emma. She took hit after hit, for us.Then one night, everything changed. My dad, in a fit of rage, tried to take his anger out on me. That was it—the last straw. My mom, with all the courage she could summon, made the call to leave.It wasn't easy; it meant leaving behind years of memories and stability, even if they were tainted. But she did it. For me, for Emma, and for herself. That took guts. And if I have even half her strength, I'll make it here at Rosewood, no matter what.Since that day, my mom has never looked back. Her bravery in walking away from that toxic marriage made a mark on me that runs deep. I promised myself then and there to make her proud and build a life she could feel good about—a life where she'd never have to second-guess her choice to leave.After she left my dad, my mom returned to work as a nurse. She'd been educated and working before she married, but then came societal expectations, which put her dreams on hold. Seeing her go back after all those years lit a fire in me. It taught me never to give up on my own goals, no matter the odds.Now that we're back on stable ground financially, I don't want to add any weight to her shoulders. Every step I take is to show her she made the right decision—and that her sacrifices weren't for nothing.

With the sun casting a soft glow over the city, I arrived at Rosewood High, stepping onto its sprawling grounds for the first time. The sleek, modern buildings rose up before me, far from anything I'd seen at the schools I'd attended before. Each inch of the campus seemed polished to perfection, with glass-and-steel structures that gleamed in the early light. I was taken aback, mesmerized by the beauty and scale of it all. It felt like stepping into another world—one I was ready to conquer for her and for me.

When I reached my homeroom, a friendly instructor greeted me with a welcoming smile, leading me through the maze of corridors until we finally arrived at my classroom. But as I stepped inside, the thrill of starting fresh mixed with a gut-wrenching wave of nerves. Every eye seemed locked onto me, and it was like their stares drained all my confidence, leaving me feeling small and exposed.

Still, I took a deep breath, ready to introduce myself. But before I could say a word, someone beat me to it.

"Hey, where are you from?" A guy with a friendly grin called out, his curiosity almost disarming.

"I used to attend St. George School," I started, only to be interrupted by his amused chuckle.

"You're funny! But really—where? Private school? International? Parents own a company?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm. His assumption stung, making it painfully clear what people expected here at Rosewood High.

"I'm from nowhere special. Regular family, regular high school," I replied, trying to wrap things up before he dug any deeper.As soon as the words left my mouth, the entire vibe shifted. His smile faded, replaced by a cool indifference. He raised his hand, getting the teacher's attention.

"Sir, I think I'll start prepping for exams now," he announced casually, leaving me standing there, confused and blindsided by his sudden shift.

In an instant, he'd gone from welcoming to dismissive, as if my answer had erased any interest he might've had. My stomach dropped, my heart pounding in the silence that followed. The room felt different, like I'd stepped on some invisible line I hadn't known was there. And just like that, I realized that my time at Rosewood High might be more challenging than I'd thought.

"Alright, everyone, we're gearing up for midterms. Quick intro, and if you've got any questions, hit up our new student, Grace. Feel free to grab a backseat if you want. Now, let's dive into today's lecture." The professor turned to the whiteboard, taking a steadying breath before launching into the lesson.

That day in class is etched in my memory. The instant I walked in, a chill ran through me. The stares and whispered glances from my classmates made the room feel heavy. At first, I brushed it off, thinking maybe they were just curious about the new face. But then, the truth settled in like a weight on my chest—they couldn't stand me. The disdain in their eyes felt all too familiar, almost identical to my father's cold gaze when he looked down on me. It was that same, calculated judgment that made me feel small, insignificant.I suddenly realized the unspoken rules of this place: wealth was the currency, and anyone who didn't match their standard was an outsider. They were sizing me up not by my personality, not by my achievements, but by the one thing I couldn't change—my family's bank account. It was painfully clear that, to them, I was a nobody. And in that moment, a sense of isolation crept over me, making me feel like I was fighting a battle I hadn't signed up for.

In English class, the teacher hit us with a basic assignment—read from our textbooks. But I'd made a rookie mistake and left mine at home. I didn't want to call my mom to bring it, and buying it would mean scraping together my last bit of cash. I'd have to plan out which books to get first and figure it out from there.

Just as I was going over my options, I felt something press down on my shoulder. Turning around, I found myself staring into the intense gaze of a guy who looked like he'd been pulled straight from a movie scene. He had that kind of presence that made you notice him, even in a crowded hallway. His black hair was slicked back, giving him a sharp, controlled look, and his dark eyes—framed by thick, perfectly arched brows—seemed to see everything, like he missed nothing. His face was serious, almost stoic, with a mouth set in a line that hinted he didn't waste time on things like small talk or pleasantries. This guy looked like the kind of person who'd stay calm under fire, maybe a bit dangerous. Definitely not someone you'd mess with on a whim.

without saying a word, he dropped the textbook onto my desk. I blinked, a bit caught off guard by the silent gesture but grateful all the same. I gave him a nod of thanks, figuring he might appreciate the unspoken acknowledgment.

After lecture before I could think more about it, he dumped an entire stack of textbooks onto my desk.

"What's going on?" I asked, staring at the pile in confusion. Every book I needed was there—textbooks, notes, everything.

"I don't need them, so take them," he replied coolly, his voice flat."Why are you giving me all these?" I asked, suspicious.He didn't flinch.

"Because you're poor." His voice was loud, each word sharp enough to cut, and the message was clear.

The whole class heard it, and a ripple of laughter ran through the room as a few girls started whispering and giggling. Heat flushed my face—an embarrassing mix of anger and humiliation. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my cool, but it took everything not to throw one of those books right back at him.

"I don't—" I started, but he cut me off with an annoyed flick of his hand.

"Get rid of it; I don't want it either!" he snapped, storming off with a scowl that only added to his edgy, untouchable look.

His jaw was set, and in that moment, I felt the impulse to break that controlled, untouchable expression on his face.This was unreal. Who just throws away books like that? These weren't cheap, and while I didn't want his charity, I also wasn't going to waste them.

"Hey!" I shouted, my voice louder than I intended. He stopped but didn't turn around, so I called out again.

"I'll pay you back tomorrow. I don't need your help."He finally turned, and his gaze pierced through me, chilling and unforgiving. His mouth curled into a half-smirk, the kind that spoke volumes without saying a word.

"My name is Sinister. Don't call me that carelessly." His voice was low, measured, a warning wrapped in calmness.

"This is your first day, so I'll let it slide. But watch yourself, Grace."With that, he turned and walked away, leaving a weight in the air that I felt even after he was gone. Sinister, huh? The name was fitting—he had the demeanor to match

......NEXT DAY.....

Sinister stayed quiet, exuding this aura of complete indifference about the money. Determined to keep my independence and avoid looking like I needed any favors, I decided to find him myself and hand over the cash directly.

After a bit of searching, I finally spotted him hanging out behind the school, puffing on a cigarette alongside another guy who was a little shorter than him. This friend had a casual coolness, starting with his hair—dark and effortlessly tousled like he'd barely run a hand through it, yet it looked perfect. His wavy hair framed his face just right, brushing his forehead and collar to give him this relaxed, almost carefree vibe.His face was balanced, with a sharp jawline softened by the slight curve of his lips, which always seemed to hold a trace of a smile. His eyes had this lively warmth that made him seem approachable, like you could tell him anything. He radiated this quiet confidence, like he was completely at ease with who he was.

As I walked up to them, Sinister looked puzzled, glancing at me with one hand shoved in his pocket, still holding a cigarette with the other.Rich or not, the guy could use some manners. I mean, would it kill him to ditch the cigarette while talking to a girl? I sighed, holding out the crumpled bills and avoiding his gaze.

"Here," I mumbled.

"For me?" he said, glancing at the money with zero interest. "I don't need it."

"It's not about whether you need it or not," I snapped, a bit of irritation creeping into my voice. "I owe you. I wanted to buy the books, but they weren't available yesterday, so I had to hang onto the money."

He tilted his head, a slow smirk forming. "Instead of paying me back with cash, why not have lunch with me?"Caught off guard, I hesitated.

But something about his smile made it hard to say no. I agreed, and we headed toward the cafeteria, his friend trailing behind us. I was half-wondering about his motives—was he trying to befriend me, or did he have some hidden agenda?

Once we reached the cafeteria, he gestured for me to take a seat, then said something to his friend, who lingered by the table, eyeing me like he was trying to read my mind. The guy had sleek black hair and intense onyx eyes that seemed both friendly and guarded. It was a little unnerving, and I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore him as I looked around the cafeteria.It was my first time stepping into it since I was still relatively new here, and the place felt enormous.

The cafeteria was buzzing with activity, groups of students chattering, laughing, and eating. I'd barely settled in when Sinister slid into the seat across from me, leaning in slightly with that same disarming smile.

"You're Grace, right?" The voice was smooth and casual, as if he'd known me forever. I looked up, startled, at the guy with the tousled dark hair and easy confidence.

"Yeah, that's me," I replied.

"I'm Liam. My dad works for Sinister's dad's company, RR Companies," he said, smiling like he'd just unveiled a secret.

"Oh, so... You two must be close." I asked, trying to keep it light.

"You could say that," he replied with a hint of a smirk. Just then, Sinister returned, setting a tray of food down with a sharp clink that shattered the small-talk warmth.

"What're you talking about?" Sinister's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, and his head tilted in a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"Just introducing myself," Liam said coolly. Sinister didn't respond, just pushed the tray of food toward me.I blinked, realising with a sinking feeling that I hadn't paid for the lunch he'd placed in front of me. I quickly reached into my pocket, pulling out the cash I'd intended to repay him with and holding it out.

"Here," I said, avoiding his gaze.

"I didn't ask you to buy me lunch. I was supposed to buy your lunch."Sinister leaned back, folding his arms, not even glancing at the money in my hand.

"Do you really think that little bit of cash covers this tray?" he scoffed.

"You wouldn't be able to afford to accept it, even if I let you."The humiliation stung, but I forced myself to keep my voice steady.

"I don't need this from you," I mumbled, cheeks burning with embarrassment. My fingers clenched around the money as I started to rise.

"I'm not feeling well. I think I'll just go."

"Sit down," he said, his tone low and commanding, laced with a quiet anger. The entire room felt frozen, everyone's eyes darting toward us.

"Excuse me?" I shot back, my voice wavering slightly."Listen." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper.

"You can sit and eat because I already paid for it, or..." He trailed off, a smirk flickering across his face, daring me to refuse.His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper: "I can make you sit down and watch you eat every bite. It's your choice, but I already paid for it."

My pride flared. "What makes you assume I would sit?"

"Oh, because you don't have any money. And, lucky for you, I have more than enough," he sneered, tilting his head, watching my every reaction.

"I have other reasons not to stay," I said sharply, preparing to leave. But before I could, he slammed his hand down on the table, sending the lunch tray clattering, a loud crash silencing the entire cafeteria as everyone turned to stare.

"Bring her another one," he ordered, still glaring at me. "I'll keep doing this until you're ready to eat. It's up to you."

Turning on my heel, I walked away, my stomach churning. The whispers followed me, but I forced myself to ignore them, my pace quickening as I headed to the bathroom.The moment I made it inside, I felt the nausea surge, and I barely made it to the sink before I retched, the humiliation and anger mixing into a sickening cocktail I couldn't keep down. I gripped the sink, breathing hard, trying to pull myself together.

Afterward, I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection, my eyes red and puffy. I looked defeated, like a girl who'd just had her pride shredded in front of everyone. I steadied myself, pressing my hands flat on the counter, willing the weakness away. I didn't want to be seen like this—vulnerable, humiliated.

I returned to class after the break, the weight of what had happened hanging over me like a cloud. It was impossible to focus, my mind replaying his words, his smug smirk, the cruel twist of power he'd wielded without a second thought. I wanted to prove to myself that I was more than just the money I didn't have, that his wealth and arrogance wouldn't define me.

As the bell rang, I gathered my things slowly, hoping to avoid the crowd. I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and reminded myself why I was here. Sinister could flaunt his money and his arrogance all he wanted, but I had dreams to chase. I had to rise above him—no matter how bitter the taste in my mouth.