“You look too chilled for someone who a newbie just snatched her post.” Shelby’s words cut through the ambient noise of the cafeteria.
Clatter of trays, the low hum of conversation, and the screech of chairs against the hard floor filled the air.
Isoldea’s fingers tightened around the edge of her tray, her knuckles almost turning white against the plastic.
They moved in units through the crowded space, four of them weaving between tables like a single entity with four sets of legs.
She led them toward the corner table by the window, the one they always claimed during lunch rush.
“What would you have me do, Shelby?” Isoldea’s voice came out sharp.
She scoffed as she dropped her tray onto the table with more force than necessary.
A fork skittered across the surface and she caught it before it could fall.
“March up to Coach Fernandez and demand she revoke Isla’s spot? Because that would make me look what? So reasonable.”
They settled around the table.
Selene held her chair close, the legs groaning against the floor.
Her red curly hair bounced around her shoulders and her sharp green eyes fixed on Isoldea.
“Fight to retain your spot,” Selene said, her voice low and deliberate.
“Or else she’ll be Captain before you know it. And then what? You’ll watch her take everything you’ve worked for?”
Isoldea’s grip on her fork tightened.
The metal bit into her palm, almost leaving red indentations.
She could feel her pulse in her temples, a steady thrum that matched the rhythm of her anger.
“Isla can’t be Captain.” Her jaw unclenched slightly.
“Coach only picked her because she’s trending alongside Liam. And it won’t be long before she fades. These things never last.” She exhaled, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“And you are right. The last girl that had the spotlight on her with Liam is nowhere to be found today. No posts. No tags.” Shelby said.
“According to the feeds,” Lana’s voice was soft.
Her fingers danced across her phone screen as she spoke, scrolling through something that had captured her attention.
She continued, “It doesn’t look like she and Liam are going to fade anytime soon.” She paused, her scrolling finger stilling and eyes fixed on her phone.
“Did you see the way he looked at her on the field?”
Isoldea creased her brows.
The fork in her hand lowered to the table.
“What do you mean?”
Lana hesitated.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she glanced at Selene, Shelby before looking back at Isoldea.
“Speak up, Lana,” Isoldea commanded, the words clipped.
“Fine.” Lana sighed.
The sound carried the weight of reluctant revelation.
“He looked happy. Like, genuinely happy that they picked her to do the shoot with him.” She turned her phone around, angling the screen toward Isoldea.
She leaned forward, her eyes scanning the image.
It was the hallway confrontation. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Liam stood in front of Isla.
However, she didn’t look mad.
They appeared to be just talking on this slide.
Liam’s smile was soft and unguarded—a version of him she hadn’t seen in a while.
Lana scrolled to the next slide.
It looked like Isla was warning him off.
Liam’s expression looked grim.
“He always seems speechless in these shots.” Lana continued, her voice taking on a clinical tone.
“You know Liam. He always has the last word. He never runs out of things to say.” She tapped the screen, zooming in on his face.
“So what does that tell you?”
Isoldea snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive.
She pushed the phone away.
“It can’t be what you are insinuating. Isla hates his guts. She can’t stand him. Liam isn’t a soft cookie either. So let’s see how this shoot works out.” She picked up her fork again, stabbing at the salad on her plate with unnecessary aggression.
Lana sighed again.
“There’s something else though.”
Isoldea’s fork paused mid-stab.
“You seem to know quite a lot about the trending couple. Do you have a secret source or something?”
Lana’s cheeks flushed pink.
“My cousin works at Thunderbolts Media. The creative team.” She leaned in, lowering her voice.
“He said someone pulled the plug on the original roster and made sure Isla was picked.”
Selene’s green eyes widened, her red curls falling across her face as she leaned forward.
Shelby stopped mid-chew, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth.
“Wait,” Shelby said, her voice muffled by the food in her mouth.
She swallowed hastily.
“Are you saying someone actually rigged it?”
Lana nodded, her expression straight.
“My cousin said it sounded like someone in the higher-ups was pulling the strings. He didn’t know who, but he said the decision came out of nowhere. One day, they had three candidates lined up, and the next, Isla was the only name on the list.”
“No way.” Isoldea shook her head, her ponytails swaying with the movement.
“That’s not possible. I heard the football coaches insisted it had to be her cause she’s got great chemistry with Liam. Coach Fernandez wouldn’t—”
“Unless it wasn’t the coaches’ decision.” Selene’s voice was sharp, cutting through Isoldea’s words.
“What if Isla knew all along she’d be picked? What if she just pretended to play along so no one would know she was using connections?”
The table fell silent.
Isoldea’s mind raced to that day, images flashing through her mind’s eye.
Isla’s resistance.
Her awkward acceptance and hesitant smile.
Was it all an act?
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Shelby said, her voice gentle.
“We don’t know if it’s true. Or maybe the company just wanted—”
She didn’t finish her sentence.
All four of their phones buzzed simultaneously.
The vibration echoed across the table.
Around them, the cafeteria erupted in a cascade of similar notifications.
Phones buzzed, chimed, and sang in a discordant rhythm.
Isoldea’s hand shot out, grabbing her phone from the table.
The screen glowed with the familiar profile picture of RavenHurst Secrets.
The headline made her breath catch.
LIAM’S GYM ROOM CONFRONTATION: Did He Sleep With Brandon’s Girl?
Her thumb tapped the notification before her brain could catch up with her body.
The video loaded—the familiar grey walls of the gym room.
Landon’s voice crackled through the speakers.
“Why the hell were you with my girl last night?”
And then Liam’s voice.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“What else would a grown-ass woman and man be doing together? I”ll answer for myself.
Hooking up.”
Isoldea watched Liam’s face on the screen.
His expression flickered with defiance and maybe even satisfaction.
“Your girl had a great time with me. You should have heard her. She didn’t stop screaming my name. Saying your cock never made her feel good.”
The cafeteria erupted in murmurs.
Fingers tapped frantically against the screams as students scrambled to drop comments, react, and share.
The noise was overwhelming—a wave of whispers, gasps, and typing.
Isoldea stared at her phone, her chest tightening slightly at his words.
The video continued to play, but she wasn’t seeing it or paying attention anymore.
Without thinking, she stood up so fast her chair scraped backward with a screech.
Her tray clattered, and the contents spilled across the table.
But she didn’t stop.
She rushed out of the cafeteria.