Page 8 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Brielle Randall, cheerleader, student council president, and expert mean girl, pops up on the screen, flaunting the Snapchat puppy filter. This has to have been taken when the teacher stepped out. Pouting, Brie fluffs her long, fiery red hair with one hand and puckers her lips to the camera with the caption:

#IHaveNoSelfieControl

I don’t see it at first—neither did Brie, ironically.

Until Dia plays it again.

And I spot them in the background.

Xavier and Finn.

Completely unaware of the phone pointed at them, the boys exchange knowing looks as Xavier points to the backpack at his feet and kicks it closer to Finn so he can peek inside.

They are so obviously up to something it’s no wonder the school put two and two together in minus ten seconds. Xavier inspects his surroundings for witnesses—not thoroughly enough, obviously—and plunges a hand inside his backpack. The video cuts just as he’s pulling out the stink bomb.

Yep. That’ll do it.

Good luck proving your innocence, bud.

I know I shouldn’t find humor in other people’s misery, but the irony of His Majesty Xavier Emery getting his ass exposed on social media by his own girlfriend is unreal.

“What happened? Did they get suspended?” I bite back a grin.

“You didn’t hear?” She sounds shocked.

I scoff. “I’m sorry, do you not know who you’re talking to?”

Dia knows damn well I can’t keep up with school gossip. This girl is the reason I know anything these days.

“Right.” She chuckles. “Xavier took the fall. Swore Finn had nothing to do with it. That’s the official story, anyway.”

“He did? Why?” I can’t conceal my surprise.

“I’m guessing to save his buddy?” She shrugs. “Finn said they were going to cut him from the team, so Xav stepped up. That’s so Xavier.”

I abstain from telling her what I really think of Mr. Nice Guy. It’s like the whole school—the whole town, really—shares an undying passion for blowing smoke up Xavier Emery’s ass.

Understandably so.

They don’t know him like I do.

As far as anyone can tell, Xavier is this great, stand-up kid. He’s faithful to his girl, wields just as much talent on the court as he does in the classroom, doesn’t go around stirring up trouble—well, until now.

Xavier spends all his time with Finn and Theo, the two of whom have pretty much slept their way through the entire cheer squad, and yet… Xavier’s been in a serious relationship with Brie for over a year now.

Everybody knows Finn and Theo eat this shit up: the parties, the whole town following every game like a religion, the groupies. In the ladies’ defense, Silver Springs, North Carolina, isn’t exactly “hot guy central”—downside of living in a town with a population of 5,658. If you ever find yourself lucky enough to spot a fine specimen roaming freely, you can bet your ass twenty other girls saw him, too.

But Xavier?

He actually seems a little… bored. Bored with the easy victories, the after-game ragers, the eyelash-batting girls. To the world, Finn is that jock who tackles a kid in the hall, and Xavier is the jock who helps the kid to his feet.

But I don’t buy it.

Not for a single second.

Just because Xavier’s slightly less awful than the rest of his friends doesn’t make him a saint in my book. In fact, I must not know the same guy as the rest of the world because Xavier Emery’s never been anything other than a royal ass to me. Sure, we were eight the last time we interacted, but potayto, potahto.

Finn, Xavier, and I used to be sort of friends when we were eight. We’d have playdates at Finn’s house every Sunday morning during my sister’s singing lessons, eat brunch, annoy the fuck out of each other while our moms gossiped.