I’m wiping down the coffee shop counter when I spot her again—Riley. She’s across the street, propped against a lamppost, pretending to mess with her phone. But her eyes keep darting up, locked on the bookstore like a damn predator. Jamie’s in there—saw him earlier lugging trash out back. She’s not even slick about it, and it’s starting to crawl under my skin. Toss the rag down, squint hard, trying to crack her angle. She’s been popping up too much, and that “worried friend” act she’s peddling? Don’t buy it for a second.
Jamie’s my best friend—always has been. He’s a wreck now—suspended, cops hounding him, town buzzing with whispers—but I’ve got his back. Alex is wobbling, I can see it, and everyone else has pegged Jamie as some dirty cheat. Not me. I know him—too soft, too straight to pull that crap. But Riley? She’s off, and I’m starting to think she’s the one stirring this shitstorm.
Been clocking her for days—always watching him. Not just at school, lurking by his locker like a ghost, but here too, near the bookstore. That smile of hers—sweet, fake as hell, like she’s so damn concerned. Too much, though. Yesterday, caught her posted up when Jamie walked home—same spot, same phone excuse. Didn’t wave, didn’t call, just stared. Ain’t normal. Nobody tracks someone that tight without a reason.
Finish my shift early, head to the bookstore. Jamie’s there, solo—Alex must be upstairs or out. He’s stacking books, moving slow, like he’s half-dead. Place is quiet—just the heater humming and pages rustling. Push the door open, bell jingles, and he looks up.
“Hey, Case,” he says, voice flat. Bags under his eyes, hair a mess. This crap’s eating him alive.
“Hey,” I say, dropping my bag by the counter. “You look like hell. Still nothing from the cops?”
Shakes his head, sets a book down. “Nope. Just waiting. Alex barely says a word now.” Mouth twists, like it stings to spit it out.
Frown, lean on the counter. “He’s acting off, yeah?” Seen it too—Alex dodging his eyes, keeping space. Ain’t like him, but I don’t dig into that now. Got bigger fish. “Look, I’ve been thinking about Riley.”
He blinks, thrown. “Riley? What about her?”
“She’s watching you,” I say, straight up. “Too damn much. Keep catching her—here, school, anywhere you’re at. It’s weird.”
He stares, like I’m speaking gibberish. “Watching me? Come on, Casey, she’s just… around. Been cool, checking in.”
Snort, cross my arms. “Cool? She’s creepy, Jamie. Not just with you—with Alex too. Saw her here yesterday, all up on the counter, yapping at him. Big smiles, leaning in. You don’t think that’s fishy?”
Shrugs, turns back to the books. “Maybe she’s into Alex. Doesn’t mean squat. She’s not behind this.”
Jaw clenches. He’s brushing it off, like always—too trusting, blind as hell. “Jamie, wake up,” I snap, sharper than I mean. “She’s obsessed with him. You’re the one in his life, not her. What if she’s the one screwing you over?”
He stops, book halfway to the shelf, looks at me. “Riley? No chance. She wouldn’t. Maybe jealous, but not that deep.”
Step closer, drop my voice. “Think, man. Your notebook’s gone—since when? Library, right? She was there. Now you’ve got fake emails, cash you didn’t touch, exam answers in your bag. She’s got reason—she wants Alex, and you’re the roadblock.”
Shakes his head quick. “That’s nuts. She’s not some genius pulling strings. It’s just bad luck—someone else did it.”
“Bad luck doesn’t plant shit,” I fire back, frustration boiling over. “She’s too perfect—showing up, playing nice. I don’t trust her, and you shouldn’t either.”
Slams the book down, face tight. “Casey, drop it. Can’t handle this right now. Alex already looks at me like I’m guilty—don’t need you piling on.”
Bite my lip, swallow a yell. He’s shutting down, like he does when it’s too much. Wanna shake him, make him see, but he’s not there yet. “Fine,” I say, stepping back. “But I’m telling you, she’s off. She ain’t your buddy.”
He doesn’t answer, grabs another book, keeps stacking. Watch him a sec, chest aching. He’s slipping—Alex pulling back, town turning—and he won’t let me in. Riley’s skating free, whatever she’s up to, and it’s killing me. Snag my bag, sling it over my shoulder. “Gotta bounce,” I mutter, heading out. “Think about it, alright?”
“Yeah,” he says, quiet, but I know he won’t. Bell jingles as I hit the sidewalk, cold slamming me. Stop, glance back through the window. Jamie’s still there, head down, moving slow. Clench my fists, head racing. Riley’s in this—I feel it, deep. Too smooth, too tied to Alex, too hooked on Jamie’s crash. Seen her at the shop too, chatting folks up, all charm—but her eyes always drift here. She’s playing something, and Jamie’s too lost to catch it.
Run it back—school, her by his locker, asking about him, fake concern. Then with Alex, all soft and sweet, like his go-to shoulder. It’s a mask—I know it. She’s got something, maybe that notebook, maybe more. No proof yet, but I’m not dropping it. Jamie’s my guy, and I’m not watching him sink ‘cause of her.
Start walking, boots crunching gravel, breath puffing out in the chill. Gonna dig—poke around, see what she’s hiding. She ain’t as clever as she thinks. There’s gotta be something—texts, a slip, anything. Mutter under my breath, “Something’s rotten with her. I’ll prove it.” Words hang there, a vow to myself. Ain’t letting her win.