I stood in front of locker 217, fumbling with the lock that clearly hated me. My fingers, already stiff from the early fall chill, refused to cooperate. I'd tried the combination three times, and all I got was the hollow clunk of failure.
"Seriously?" I muttered, yanking on the handle. "Just open already."
"You're doing it wrong," a deep voice said behind me, laced with a kind of lazy amusement that made my spine stiffen.
I turned around slowly, and there he was. Ace Carter.
Leather jacket. Piercing dark eyes. A smirk that screamed trouble. And a reputation that echoed through every hallway of Westbridge High like a warning bell. He was the kind of boy mothers warned their daughters about—and the kind of boy daughters usually ignored those warnings for.
"I wasn't asking for help," I said quickly, heat rising in my cheeks.
He leaned casually against the locker next to mine, like he had all the time in the world. His eyes scanned my face, the corners of his mouth twitching like he found something amusing.
"Didn't say you were," he replied. "But watching you battle that lock is the highlight of my morning."
I narrowed my eyes. "Glad to be of service."
His smirk deepened, and without another word, he reached out. I instinctively stepped back, but he ignored me and turned the lock effortlessly. Click. He swung it open like it had never been difficult at all.
I blinked. "How—?"
He shrugged. "You were too tense. Locks like gentle hands."
"That's… weirdly philosophical for you," I said before I could stop myself.
To my surprise, he laughed. Not the mocking kind. A real, deep laugh that caught me off guard.
"You don't know anything about me, Princess."
I bristled at the nickname. "My name's Hope."
He winked. "Figures."
Before I could say anything else, he was already strolling down the hallway, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, like our little encounter had been just another Tuesday for him.
I stared after him, heart hammering way too fast for a random guy who had just helped me with a locker.
"Stay away from him," a voice said beside me.
I turned to see Melanie, my best friend since freshman year, eyeing Ace's retreating figure like he was some kind of virus.
"Why?"
"Because that's Ace Carter," she said, lowering her voice like she was telling a ghost story. "He's been in detention more times than you've blinked today. He drives a motorcycle. He once got into a fight in the *principal's office*. Who even does that?"
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It's not like I'm planning to be friends with him."
Melanie narrowed her eyes at me. "I know that look."
"What look?"
"The 'he's hot but I'm pretending not to care' look."
"I don't have that look."
"You do. And I'm telling you right now, don't even go there."
I rolled my eyes and started putting my books into the now-unlocked locker. "It was a one-minute conversation, Mel. I'm not writing our wedding vows."
But even as I said it, I felt it. That tiny spark. The kind that flickers into something dangerous if you're not careful.
---
By lunch, Ace Carter was nothing more than a whisper in the back of my mind. At least, that's what I told myself.
I sat at our usual table in the cafeteria—back corner, near the window—and pulled out my tray. The food looked like regret covered in mystery sauce, but I stabbed at it anyway.
"So," Melanie said, popping a fry into her mouth, "have you decided on the Fall Dance theme yet?"
As class president, planning the school dance was officially my job. As someone who liked things organized and peaceful, it was also the only chaotic thing in my life I had some control over.
"I'm between 'Enchanted Forest' or 'Masquerade Night,'" I replied.
"Go with the forest," said Ryan, Melanie's boyfriend, sitting across from us. "Less glitter, more trees."
"Wow, your input is so deep," Melanie said dryly.
Just as I opened my mouth to vote for Masquerade, a commotion near the entrance drew everyone's attention. I didn't need to guess who it was.
Ace Carter strolled in, wearing that same smug grin. This time, his white t-shirt had a rip near the shoulder, like it had been through a fight—or maybe a motorcycle crash. He walked straight past the lunch line and dropped into a seat at the back with a group of guys who looked just as dangerous as he did.
"Unbelievable," Melanie muttered. "He doesn't even pay for lunch. Who does he think he is?"
I tried not to look, I really did. But my eyes found him anyway.
And of course, he was already looking at me.
Our eyes met for half a second—just long enough to make my heart misbehave—before he turned back to his friends.
"He's trouble," Melanie repeated, "with a capital T and an arrest record."
"You don't know that," I said, instantly defensive.
"Hope."
"What? I'm just saying… maybe he's misunderstood."
"Oh no. Nope. That's how every bad boy story starts and ends in tears," she said, waving a fry like it was a red flag. "First it's 'he's just misunderstood,' then it's 'he kissed me behind the gym,' and next thing you know, you're bailing him out of jail."
I laughed. "You've been watching too many teen dramas."
"Maybe. But I'm not wrong."
---
After school, I stayed late for the Fall Dance committee meeting, which was basically just me, Melanie, and two other girls pretending to care. The school gym still smelled like feet and floor polish, but I loved it anyway.
"This place needs magic," I said, picturing fairy lights and flowing fabric.
"It needs bleach," Melanie muttered.
We were halfway through planning when a deep voice interrupted.
"Need a DJ?"
I turned, and yep—there he was again. Ace Carter, standing in the doorway like he owned it.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, suspicious.
He shrugged. "Heard you were planning a dance. Thought you might need music that doesn't suck."
"You DJ?"
"I do a lot of things."
Melanie crossed her arms. "Like detention?"
He smirked. "Sometimes."
I should've said no. I should've told him this was official school business and we didn't need some rule-breaking rebel ruining it. But instead…
"Maybe," I said. "Do you have samples?"
Ace raised an eyebrow, then pulled out his phone and hit play. A smooth beat filled the gym—soft at first, then pulsing with a rhythm that made you want to move. Even Melanie stopped mid-eye roll.
"Okay," I said slowly. "That's… actually good."
"Of course it is," he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "So I'm in?"
I hesitated. "It's not up to just me."
Melanie groaned. "You cannot be serious."
Ace looked at me, eyes burning with something that felt like challenge. "You're afraid I'll ruin it?"
I stood a little taller. "No. I'm afraid you won't take it seriously."
He stepped closer, just a little. "Give me a chance, Princess. You might be surprised."
Again with the Princess. I should've hated it.
Instead, I nodded.
And just like that, Ace Carter was officially part of my world.
He smiled, victorious.
And I knew—just knew—my perfectly planned life was about to get very, very complicated.