THE HUNTER .

My brain is fucking glitching.

My body? Still planted right there, on this man's god-tier thighs, like I've just decided to move in. Like this is my new permanent address.

His words repeat in my head-Do you plan to sit here forever?-and I hate how my stomach does this weird, fluttery thing, like a hundred damn moths are rioting inside me.

Move, dumbass. Get off.

But my limbs aren't cooperating. The heat of his body seeps through the fabric of my dress, and I swear I can feel every damn contour of his thighs beneath me.

I need to get up. Now.

With the grace of a malfunctioning robot, I jerk forward, trying to push myself off him. But because my life is a never-ending series of humiliations, the bus jerks again, and I end up gripping his shoulders even harder, my knee accidentally brushing against his inner thigh.

Kill me. Right now. Just end my suffering.

I hear the sharp inhale he takes, and I freeze, eyes snapping back up to his.

Still staring. Still unreadable. But now, his fingers twitch against my waist, like he's holding himself back from-what? Pushing me off? Grabbing me? Murdering me? I don't fucking know.

The tension is thick enough to choke on.

And then, because the universe fucking hates me, someone behind us coughs. Loudly.

Oh, right. Other people exist.

My face burns. I finally-finally-manage to push off him, scrambling back into a standing position, gripping the nearest pole for support.

I do not look at him again.

Nope. Not happening. I stare out the window like my life depends on it, my fingers clenched around the metal bar so tightly they might fuse to it.

My heart? Still fucking sprinting. My thighs? Still traitorously tingling from the absolute crime of sitting on his.

The bus ride to college is an hour long.

And for every single one of those sixty minutes, I don't move. I don't speak. I don't even fucking breathe properly.

I just stand there, stiff as hell, while my body and my soul try to recover from whatever the fuck just happened.

The bus lurches to a stop, and I fucking launch myself out of my seat like I've been set on fire.

Feet hit the floor, and I shove my way toward the exit, practically bolting down the steps. My body is still on high alert, my skin crawling with the ghost of that damn stranger's thighs.

What the fuck was that?

I don't look back. Not once. Not to see if he's still staring, not to check if I imagined the whole thing. No, I do what any self-respecting idiot would do-I flee.

The moment my shoes hit solid ground, I let out a breath that I swear I've been holding since I fucking sat on that man.

And then I growl.

Like a feral fucking animal.

Like I've been personally wronged by the universe.

Like if I had a tail, it'd be thrashing behind me like a pissed-off cat.

"Fucking hell," I mutter under my breath, rubbing my temples as I stomp toward the college gates. "Morning's already fucked up."

Because seriously. What was that? Who the hell even was that guy? Why did he have to have thighs like that? And why the fuck did my brain short-circuit the moment he spoke?

I shake my head, gripping my bag strap so tight my fingers ache. I need to erase that moment from my memory. Rip it out. Burn it. Shove it in the deepest, darkest corner of my mind and never think about it again.

Deep breaths. In. Out. I can still salvage this morning.

I just need to focus. Go to class. Forget this ever-

HONK.

I jolt as some idiot on a bike nearly runs me over.

"Are you fucking blind?" I snap, throwing my hands up.

The guy just shrugs like he's the victim here and speeds off.

I glare at his retreating figure, resisting the urge to flip him off.

This day is out to fucking kill me.

I march through the college gates, muttering every curse I know under my breath. The moment I step inside, I decide one thing-

I am not talking to a single damn person until I reset my brain.

Because if someone so much as mentions the bus, I might actually commit a crime.

The moment I step onto campus, I know I've made a catastrophic fucking mistake.

Because I see them.

My personal hell trio.

Ifrah, Ruby, and Shaiza-three walking violations of peace treaties, human embodiments of chaos theory, and the sole reason my life expectancy plummets every time I blink.

They're coming fast-like a tsunami with eyeliner and bad intentions.

I consider turning around. Faking a seizure. Evaporating into mist. But no. It's too late.

Eye contact has been made.

Ifrah spots me first-of course she fucking does-with that calculating glare that could strip a man's soul and label it for archiving. Ruby's next, her steps picking up like she smells gossip in the air. And Shaiza? That demon? She just grins like she already knows something that should have stayed buried.

I square my shoulders. Pretend I'm emotionally stable.

"YOU," Ifrah says, storming into my space like a pissed-off detective. "Explain your fucking face."

"What?" I blink.

Shaiza closes in behind her, eyes gleaming. Ruby flanks my other side, clutching her iced coffee like it's a weapon and she's about to waterboard me with it.

"Your aura is crying," Ruby says with terrifying calm. "Did someone touch you? Do I need to commit a felony?"

"No one touched me," I grit out, clutching my bag like a damn emotional support animal. "I'm fine."

Shaiza tilts her head. "You look... post-traumatic."

I flinch.

Ruby raises a brow. "Was it the bus? Don't tell me it was the bus."

These witches.

I try to keep walking, but Ifrah grabs my arm and physically drags me into the shade like this is a crime scene investigation and I'm the corpse.

I exhale hard. "Nothing happened."

"That's definitely a lie," Shaiza sings. "You look like you fought Satan and got spanked."

"Okay, first of all, fuck you," I snap.

"Second of all?" Ruby leans in.

I sigh. Loudly. Aggressively. Because if I don't say it, they're going to keep inventing worse versions until I end up with a full-blown fanfiction of my own life.

"I fell," I mutter.

Silence.

Ifrah blinks. "You what."

"I fell," I repeat, louder this time.

Ruby narrows her eyes. "Off the bus?"

"No."

Shaiza's expression turns gleeful. "Off the seat?"

I exhale. "No."

Ifrah steps closer, eyes narrowed. "...Did you fall on someone?"

A noise escapes me. Something between a groan and a prayer for euthanasia.

The shift in their faces is instant-shock, then delight, then absolute, unholy amusement.

"WHO?" Ruby shrieks.

Shaiza grabs my sleeve like she's about to interrogate a war criminal. "Did you crush them? Was it an old man? Did he survive?"

"It was a guy," I mutter.

Mistake.

Fatal fucking mistake.

Ruby gasps like she's inhaled pure serotonin. Shaiza buckles over in laughter, gripping Ifrah for balance. And Ifrah? She's vibrating. No. She's possessed.

"DETAILS. NOW." she demands, both hands on my shoulders like she's about to shake the trauma out of me.

"I didn't mean to!" I snap. "The fucking bus driver hit the brakes like he was trying to rewrite Newton's laws, and I- I lost my balance, and-"

I stop. Because this part is the goddamn climax of my humiliation.

"And I fell into his lap."

Three seconds of dead silence.

Then chaos.

Shaiza screams like someone's been murdered. Ruby sits down on the pavement. Ifrah clutches her chest like she's experiencing spiritual cardiac arrest.

"Oh my fucking God," Ruby wheezes. "You committed accidental foreplay."

"Was he hot?" Shaiza gasps between cackles.

"DID HE SAY ANYTHING?" Ifrah demands.

I close my eyes. "Yeah."

Instant silence again. All of them lean in like I'm the center of the fucking universe.

I drop my voice. "He said-'Do you plan to sit here forever?'"

It's like I threw a grenade.

Shaiza screams. Ruby lies down on the fucking concrete like her soul gave up. Ifrah bends over, laughing so hard she chokes on her own spit.

This is my life. This is my descent into madness.

"I'm not doing this," I mutter. "I'm deleting myself."

But Ifrah's not done. Oh, no. She straightens with dangerous calm, eyes sharp.

"Did you feel anything?"

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she says. "Thighs. Muscles. Structure. Density. Impact."

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.

Shaiza grins like the devil's apprentice. "You landed on him, right? You're telling me there was no biological reaction?"

"I'm telling you I don't fucking remember!"

Ruby sits up. "So there was something."

"Jesus Christ," I groan, massaging my temples. "This is harassment."

"Describe the thighs," Shaiza says solemnly.

I stare at her, betrayal in every cell of my body. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you people?"

Ifrah hums. "You haven't denied it yet."

"I will shove you into traffic."

"Thick thighs do save lives," Ruby says wisely.

"Do I look saved to you?"

They're cackling now. Full-volume, demon-tier chaos. People are starting to stare. I want the Earth to swallow me whole.

Shaiza leans in again. "You're blushing."

"I'm overheating from shame."

"Or from thigh contact."

"I hate you all."

Ifrah points a finger in my face. "You are never living this down."

"Good," I hiss. "Because I'm not ever taking the bus again."

I swing my bag over my shoulder and storm off.

Ruby yells after me, "Tell us what the thighs felt like!"

Shaiza: "Was there bounce?"

Ifrah, deadpan and savage as ever: "Girl, blink twice if it jiggled."

I throw them the middle finger without looking back.

This is my suffering.

These are my friends.

And I'm going to die young.

But fuck, at least I won't die alone.

____________

The classroom should be quiet. Peaceful. A sacred temple of learning, growth, and the occasional daydream about stabbing the next person who breathes too loudly. Instead, it's a war zone. And the reason?

My goddamn friends.

It's barely ten in the morning. My soul has not downloaded its patch update. My brain is buffering. And I am sitting in this glorified coffin of a classroom trying to pretend I give a single microscopic fuck about whatever the professor is growling about. My notes are just squiggly lines and doodles of cats stabbing people.

And then-fucking Shaiza happens.

A sharp elbow drives straight into my ribs, and my pen jerks across the page like it's having a seizure. I clench my jaw and hiss out the rage.

"What the fuck, you absolute termite."

She leans in, innocent as a nun on trial for arson.

"Sooo... did you feel anything?"

My brain shuts off.

"What."

She grins. That grin. The "I have nothing to lose and I'm going to drag you with me" grin.

"Between his thighs."

I blank out. No thoughts. Just static. My entire system bluescreens. Rebooting in five, four, never.

Before I can slap her into another dimension, Ifrah-the goddamn tube bulb-lights up way too late and leans in, her eyes all wide like she's about to learn the meaning of life.

"Wait, wait! Are we talking about that bus guy?"

"Shut the fuck up," I whisper-scream, horror crawling up my spine like a cold, wet lizard.

And then-of course-Ruby fucking hears that.

She turns around like she's possessed, neck cracking, eyes suspicious as hell.

"So that's why you walked in like you saw God naked and regretted your entire existence."

I drag my hand down my face like I'm trying to wipe away my will to live.

"I swear to God, I will end every single one of you."

Shaiza just waves me off, that smug little shit.

"Yeah, yeah, but answer the damn question. Was it firm?"

Ifrah gasps like she's witnessing the birth of Christ.

"Or soft?? Like a pillow?"

"Why are both of you built like this," I whisper, actively disintegrating.

Ruby crosses her arms, judgment oozing off her like acid rain.

"Excuse you. Thighs are important. That's just science."

"I am going to burn this institution to the ground and dance in the ashes."

Shaiza nudges me again, harder this time.

"So, was it-"

"STOP."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I fucked up.

Because now the classroom is silent.

Pin-drop. Like the Earth held its breath just to witness my downfall.

I feel it before I see it-that shift in the air. Every eye swings to us. The professor pauses mid-sentence, glasses lowered, eyebrows high.

And then-he smirks.

"Miss 'I Am Going To Burn This Institution Down,' would you and your incredibly vocal support group like to share what's so urgent at this hour?"

I want to die. No-I want to take hostages first and then die.

I sit frozen, cursed by the gods, the devils, and whatever bastard invented education.

"No, sir," I say, voice trying its best not to shake.

He tilts his head, the way predators do.

"No?"

"No," I repeat, throat dry enough to start a wildfire.

He stares like he's reading the embarrassing chapters of my life with dramatic flair.

Then-because he's a sadist-he shifts his gaze.

"And you three?"

Ifrah chokes. Actually chokes on air.

Shaiza wipes away a nonexistent tear like this is a fucking Oscar-winning tragedy.

Ruby-that traitorous wench-clears her throat like she's preparing a speech.

Absolute betrayal. Treason. Mutiny.

The professor folds his arms, completely unimpressed.

"Since you all seem so...energetic, why don't you share that enthusiasm with the rest of the class? All four of you. Front. Now."

I die.

Shaiza dies.

Ifrah? Gone. She's in a better place now.

Ruby just sighs, like this is a minor bump in her royal journey of being a pain in my ass.

But then-it gets worse.

As I grab my notebook and stand up, someone laughs.

From the back row.

It's not loud. It's not even mocking. It's low. Drawn out. A soft, amused chuckle like he's watching a comedy show just for him.

And it cuts. Through me like a blade dipped in humiliation.

My head snaps around, murder in my eyes. I search-but all I see is a guy in the back corner, head down, a black cap pulled low over his forehead. He's leaning forward on the desk, shoulders shaking slightly.

Laughing into the fucking desk.

Who the fuck even is that?!

I don't see his face. Just that stupid hat and the outline of a smirk barely visible in the shadow.

I will kill him.

No, I will gut him. Whoever that smug, giggling son of a bitch is-I will find him. I will ruin him. And if he has nice thighs too? Even worse. I'll stab both.

But I can't do shit right now.

Right now, I have to walk to the front of the class, shoulders stiff, dignity bleeding out of my body, while my friends pretend not to be feral little gremlins who dragged me into this hell.

This? This is not just my villain origin story.

This is a fucking declaration of war.

My legs are about to collapse.

If we stand here another second, I'm either going to scream or crumple like a dehydrated fern. My calves ache. My pride's already in a body bag. The classroom hums with post-presentation chatter, but I can still feel the burn of that earlier laughter seared into my spine.

I glance sideways.

Ifrah is blinking so hard it looks like she's trying to Morse code an apology. Her hands are clenched in front of her like she's praying to the gods of literature to swallow her whole. Ruby shifts her weight from one leg to another, probably planning a monologue in her head about how this will help us "grow as women." Shaiza... that absolute demon is chewing her lip, shoulders twitching, trying not to burst into a full psychotic laugh.

I narrow my eyes.

"Don't," I warn her under my breath.

She meets my gaze-grinning, sparkling with evil.

"I'm not saying anything."

"Your face is loud."

Behind us, the classroom door creaks. The professor's still packing his notes, but we're the main event. I can feel it-eyes still on us. Especially his.

That guy.

The one in the back row who laughed.

That sound still echoes in my skull. It wasn't loud. Just... sharp. Confident. Like he knew we were already dead meat and he was just there to enjoy the show. I look back again, neck craning subtly.

He hasn't moved.

Still slouched in the last row, arms folded over the desk, head down. A black cap hides most of his face. He hasn't looked up once.

I can't see his mouth. Can't even catch his eyes.

But my fists curl instinctively.

Coward.

If I could just see his damn face-just for a second-I'd carve every detail into memory so I could hunt him down and ruin his existence.

Who the hell are you?

The bell rings.

It slices through the tension like a sword through silk, a glorious, blaring sound of divine rescue.

The professor sighs so hard you'd think we personally shortened his life span.

"Go," he mutters, already done with us. "Before I decide to fail you all out of principle."

We don't need to be told twice.

Shaiza grabs my wrist, Ifrah snatches Ruby's bag, and we bolt-books flying, laughter bubbling behind gritted teeth as we storm out like hell's gremlins let loose in a school hallway. People scatter when they see us coming. They should. We look deranged. Because we are.

We barely make it to the bathroom before collapsing.

My back hits the wall. I drag air into my lungs like I just escaped prison.

"Actual. Fucking. Hell," I gasp, wiping sweat from my forehead.

Ruby groans, fixing her scarf in the mirror like she just escaped a landslide.

"I thought I was gonna die standing. My knees were screaming."

Ifrah drops to the floor and lies flat, face-up like a chalk outline.

"Can't believe you screamed 'burn this institution down' out loud."

"That was the heat of battle. I blacked out."

Shaiza grins.

"Still didn't answer the question though."

I groan so loud it echoes off the bathroom tiles.

"You're obsessed. Seek therapy."

"No, I seek truth. So?" She raises a brow. "Was it firm?"

I want to scream. I want to throw her through the bathroom stall and into another dimension.

"Stop. Talking."

Ifrah lifts her head from the floor, blinking slowly.

"Or was it soft? Like a cloud?"

"You're not even built to be in this conversation," I hiss.

Ruby leans casually against the sink.

"Personally, I think thighs matter more than personality."

"I'm leaving. I'm done. You're all cancelled-"

The bathroom door slams shut.

Not creaks.

Slams.

The sound cracks through the room like a gunshot. All the air gets sucked out in an instant.

We freeze.

Breath caught.

Heartbeat loud.

A weight drops in my stomach, ice cold and heavy.

Slowly-like we've rehearsed this in our worst nightmares-we turn toward the door.

And there she is.

Cassandra.

Smirking like she just caught us mid-crime, arms crossed over her chest, one leg slightly bent like she's posing for a revenge movie poster.

Her minions flank her-two shadow girls with way too much lip gloss and nothing behind their eyes but obedience.

She leans against the door. Tilts her head.

"Well, well."

Her voice is sweet poison. It glides through the silence, and it makes the walls feel smaller.

"Look what we have here"

SHIT.