Cupcake

If it was a dream, it was definitely one of those alternate reality ones where you can’t wake up. People kept stopping me in the halls to congratulate me. Me! I couldn’t believe it.

“Hey, congrats on the nom,” Kendra Claire said. She’d been the lead in last year’s theater production of Hairspray and was sensational. We’d bonded after I brought everyone in the cast and crew rose-shaped macarons on opening night.

Kendra had said she’d been doing the theater thing for years, and that was the first time anyone brought her flowers. I’d responded that with amazing talent like hers, it definitely wouldn’t be the last. “It’ll be nice to see a real girl on the Homecoming stage for once.”

“Thanks, Kendra,” I said, not really knowing what she meant.

I kept walking but was once again sidetracked by Teddy “The Tank” Kowalski.

“Yo, Cupcake!” he said, stopping me a few feet from my locker and holding his fist out. “Heard you’re a princess. That’s cool.”

I rolled my eyes but tapped his fist with my palm. “Well, not really.”

He lifted his chin. “They going to give you one of those girly crowns to wear?”

“A tiara?” I asked. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“If they do, you know it’s legit,” he said and gave my shoulder a pat. “Congrats.”

I blinked. “Thanks, Teddy. Say hi to your little sister for me, okay?” He nodded, then walked off.

We’d had classes together since elementary school but never really spoke before last year. Teddy had come to me out of the blue, saying it was an emergency situation. His sister’s tenth birthday was coming up, and he was supposed to have ordered something special (a cake, cookies, doughnuts etc.) to celebrate. His parents had given him the money weeks in advance to ensure they’d get an awesome surprise for their baby girl. Guess who’d promptly forgotten the cake, found the cash in his bag days later, couldn’t remember what the money was for, and spent it on a new pair of Nikes?

Yeah, that would be Teddy.

The birthday party had been the next day. He’d looked so pitiful, begging for my help, and I couldn’t find it in me to say no. I’d whipped him up a two-tier minion-themed cake with one layer of chocolate and one of vanilla. I’d even used yellow dye to make twelve little marshmallow minions, one for each of the party attendees as well as the birthday girl. Teddy and I had been friendly ever since.

Mrs. Reeves nodded as I passed her biology classroom and stopped at my locker. We got along great—okay, I was on good terms with pretty much all of my teachers, but Mrs. Reeves and I shared a common love of movies and sweets.

“I heard the news,” she said, beaming. “Way to go, Ariel. I know you’ll do Honeycomb proud.”

“Really?” I joked. “I wish I felt that certain.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “Pretty sure I’m not the typical princess, Mrs. Reeves.”

Translation: I’m confident and love myself just the way I am. But society might not see me that way. My look didn’t exactly scream “princess.”

Mrs. Reeves didn’t seem to get my meaning.

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Oh? Is there some criteria for high school royalty I don’t know about? I thought it was just based on who got the most votes.”

“You’re right. It is,” I said. “I just don’t understand why anyone would vote for me.”

“Again,” Mrs. Reeves said, probing me with her shrewd gaze, “why wouldn’t they?”

I didn’t have an answer for that but decided to try.

“Well, I’m awkward and quiet.”

“I’d call you friendly and sweet,” she put in.

I nodded my thanks. “It’s just… I’m like a turtle. I love my shell, and I’m very content in the shadows. I’ve never really wanted to be in the spotlight, you know?”

“I do know. But even turtles have to venture out once in a while. Sometimes life chooses your destiny for you.” Mrs. Reeves smiled a second later. “That was in my fortune cookie last night. Thought it would be appropriate here.”

“I guess so,” I said.

“Good luck, Ariel. And don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll knock ’em dead.”

I didn’t want to kill anyone, I thought, just to get through this debacle unscathed.

Several more people stopped to offer their congrats, and a few even said they’d voted for me. It hit me then for the first time: maybe I wasn’t as under the radar as I’d thought. Other students noticed me…and they seemed genuinely happy for my success.

It was actually kind of awesome.

Because of all the pit stops along the way, by the time I left my locker, it was nearly twenty minutes after the final bell. The halls were less crowded, most of the students eager to be home or to start their after-school activities. The emptiness was good, since I needed to book it to the cafeteria. I walked as fast as I could. The only thing I hated more than the spotlight was walking in late—which automatically ensured attention I didn’t want.

I’d just looked down at my phone to check the time…when I ran straight into a brick wall.

Or that was what it felt like.

I rebounded hard, falling to the floor and landing on my butt.

Thank goodness I had some extra cushioning back there, I thought. Otherwise, the cold tile (which had to be layered over concrete) would’ve hurt like a mother. My bag, books, and phone had gone down as well, creating a little circle of chaos around me. Cringing, I surveyed the scene—until my eyes latched on to what had caused me to fall in the first place.

My eyes traveled up over thighs encased in black workout pants, a muscular chest covered by a long-sleeved HHS T-shirt, strong shoulders, square jaw…and stopped on stormy blue eyes.

Gah, I thought. This was so cliché.

What am I, the heroine in a rom-com?

The guy I’d run into was frowning at me.

Rumor had it Rhys Castle rarely smiled, so I tried not to take it personally.

He’d certainly never smiled at me.

“Nice one, Cupcake,” he said. “You okay?”

I blinked. My brain must’ve been addled because all I could think in that moment was, Wow, even Rhys knows my nickname, and on the heels of that thought, I’ve never seen such a pretty wall.

Seriously, Rhys could’ve given Captain America a run for his money.

I watched in a daze as Rhys collected my things off the floor, then looked at me again.

“Need help getting up?”

I snapped out of it at that. Ugh, if Honeycomb’s golden boy quarterback had to help me, it would only add insult to injury. Trying to calm my blush, I struggled to my feet.

“No, but thanks,” I said as he handed over my stuff. “Sorry, I didn’t see you, thought I’d walked into a wall or something—which is pretty out-there, since obviously you’re very much human.”

“You walk into walls often?” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking.

I smiled anyway. “It’s been known to happen once or twice.”

My attempt at humor was a fail. He didn’t crack; his lips remained stuck in a firm line.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Maybe I’d hit him harder than I thought, and that was what put him in a bad mood. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m good,” he said. “Girls throw themselves at me all the time. Just not quite so literally.”

“I didn’t—”

“Maybe you should go out for the football team.” That made the words I’d been about to say die on my tongue.

“Why would I do that?” I asked slowly.

“Just saying, that was a decent hit.” I might’ve been imagining it, but I could’ve sworn I saw his lips twitch. “With a little practice, you could probably take me down.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Do I look like a football player to you?”

Rhys gave me a once-over, and for some reason when his eyes met mine again, I could feel my cheeks blushing.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” was all he said, and then he sauntered past me down the hall.

“Pretty and rude,” I said under my breath. “Should’ve seen that one coming.”