You Said I Was Your Favorite (A Lancaster Prep Novel)

No matter how hard I try, I can’t get over what Arch said to me. How he’s intent on remaining ranked number one in our class, and how he doesn’t consider me competition. It irked me, how dismissive he was. He didn’t take me seriously, not that I expected him to, but I figured he would at least be…I don’t know. Polite?

The fact that he practically laughed in my face is what goaded me into action.

After our run-in, I poured over the class schedule, looking for those classes that weighed even heavier than usual, that would give me more points toward my GPA. By Tuesday morning, I was in my guidance counselor’s office, going over everything with Mrs. Peebles and explaining to her my intention without ever mentioning Arch Lancaster’s name once.

I’d like to forget all about him, though I know that’s impossible. He’s the only reason I’m doing this. Pushing myself harder, determined to prove to him that I’m a viable threat. That I actually am competition.

“Are you sure you want to take advanced physics?” Mrs. Peebles peers over her readers, her gaze meeting mine. “That’s a tough course.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I’m capable?” I sound a little more hostile than I mean to and I soften my words with a faint smile. “I’m just striving to be my very best for my senior year.”

“I know, Daisy. But you’ve been on a pretty intense track since your freshman year. I thought you structured it that way to ease up a little now, so you can relax during your last year in high school,” Mrs. Peebles reminds me.

“I’ve changed my mind.” I sit up straighter, determination filling me. “I want to do this.”

“And advanced statistics?” Her eyebrows shoot almost comically high. “Adding those two classes equals what I would consider a very tough school year.”

“I can do it,” I say with all the confidence I don’t necessarily feel. I am really faking it this morning. “I want to do it.”

Mrs. Peebles watches me for a moment, her gaze softening just before she pushes her glasses up the slope of her nose. “Be honest with me, Daisy. Are you trying to outdo a certain someone in your class?”

My cheeks go hot at her question. She knows I’ve struggled to outdo Arch Lancaster since midway through our sophomore year. I was the one originally on top—until he took over the number one spot. “I want to beat him.”

“His schedule is just as intense as this.”

I feel like she just gave me enemy information and I lean closer to her desk, eager for more. “Is he taking the same classes?”

“Not quite.” She smiles, clasping her hands together and resting them on top of her desk. “I think this will work for you, Daisy. I just want to make sure this is what you actually want to do.”

“I do.”

“And what does your father say about this change?”

I didn’t even mention it to Dad yet. He’d probably try and convince me not to do it, knowing him. He encourages me to be an overachiever but he’s also a big believer in remembering our limits. I think my mother’s untimely death made him cautious about a few things, including being a workaholic. He thinks I have that issue. Schoolwork consumes me all the time and he doesn’t love it.

If I told him I wanted to make my schedule even harder, he probably wouldn’t approve. That’s why I haven’t said anything to him.

“He thinks it’s a good idea,” I lie smoothly, surprised at myself.

Ever since that conversation with Arch, I’ve been doing things out of the norm. Not that I’m pleased about it.

Mrs. Peebles finalizes a few things on the computer before she prints out my new schedule and hands it to me. “If the classes start to overwhelm you, let me know, okay? We can make a few more changes if necessary. I don’t want you getting in over your head.”

“Thank you.” I take the schedule from her, wondering if she gave Arch the same warning.

Probably not. She most likely believes he’s capable of such a tough class load and has zero doubts. Where I’m looked at as weaker.

Or maybe I’m projecting my own insecurities on this poor woman. I’m not sure.

I escape the building seconds later, headed for my first class, which hasn’t changed. It’s advanced English, and he’s in that class.

Arch.

The moment I walk in, it’s like he knows it, his head lifting, his gaze meeting mine. I glare at him, clutching my new schedule between my fingers and he actually smiles, reminding me of a shark. Not that sharks smile, but oh my God, he looks like he’d derive great pleasure from sinking his teeth into my flesh and shaking my helpless body back and forth in the water until all the life drains out of me…

Taking a deep breath, I tear my gaze away from Arch’s and head into the classroom, plopping into the desk that’s front and center. Where I normally sit in any class.

Every class.

When I try to unzip my backpack, I realize I’m shaking. Trembling. My overactive imagination has sent me spiraling and I exhale as steadily as possible, closing my eyes for the briefest moment. Desperate to calm my frazzled nerves.

“Meditating?”

That now familiar deep voice curls around me and I crack my eyes open to find Arch standing in front of my desk, watching me with an amused look on his handsome face, his hands shoved in his pockets, as casual as ever.

“Go away,” I mutter like I’m five.

He frowns. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” I rest my hands on top of my desk and curl my fingers together, wishing he’d just leave me alone.

“I don’t want you to say anything to me. I want you to listen.” Arch watches me for a moment and it’s impossible to tear my gaze from his. I hate how he looks at me. As if he can see right through me and knows what’s hidden beneath. I’ve never felt like I have deep, dark secrets that I’m keeping from those who surround me, but when it comes to this boy?

He makes me feel like I’m a puzzle he’s dying to figure out. And I don’t like it.

“You’re so rude,” I murmur, the words he said finally sinking in. What, he wants to yell at me? Berate me for whatever reason? It’s like he gets off on talking down to me and I’m not going to tolerate it.

“Mr. Lancaster.” We both swivel our heads to see our English teacher Mr. Winston enter the classroom. “Please tell me you’re going to sit in the front alongside Miss Albright.”

From the expression on Arch’s face, I think that’s the last thing he wants to do. “I prefer learning from the back of the classroom, Winston.”

Our teacher walks over to his desk and settles his book bag onto the empty desk chair. “Somehow, I knew you’d say that.”

Arch sends me a look I can’t decipher before he turns away and heads to his desk, leaving me alone. I should feel relieved. I should talk to Mr. Winston, who’s one of my favorites. He replaced the last guy—who got busted for having an inappropriate relationship with a student—and he’s a great teacher. I think it helps that he’s young. He’s only like twenty-three or twenty-four and I think it makes him more relatable.

The bell rings and Mr. Winston immediately starts talking, pacing the front of the classroom like he always does, becoming quickly impassioned while speaking on the subject of romance in literature. It’s literally my favorite topic, and I try my best to focus on the words our teacher is saying and how excited he is about it.

But all I can feel is a certain someone’s eyes on me. Watching me. Making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don’t dare to look back, too afraid to see the judgment in his eyes.

The amusement.

By the time we’re in second period and I’m sitting in the office while Arch is late doing whatever it is he does when he’s off screwing around, I’m positively fuming. Vivian leaves me alone as if she knows I’m mad, and while I feel bad that my mood is permeating the entire office, I also sort of don’t care.

I’m not normally a moody person, but there’s something about Arch Lancaster that gets under my skin. Only when he focuses on me and opens his mouth though. Yes, he was an irritant before but nothing too bad. I could forget about him fairly easily.

Now though? He’s infuriating. After our initial conversation the first day of school, it’s like I’ve become a target for him. I hate it.

I don’t like him. At all.

When Arch walks in ten minutes after the bell with a smile on his face, he’s actually whistling.

Whistling.

I can’t take it.

“You’re late,” I bite out the moment the door shuts behind him.

He comes to a stop, leaning against the door, contemplating me with a sly gleam in his eyes that makes me uncomfortable. “And you care why?”

“I care,” Vivian pipes up, her voice stern.

He barely looks in her direction. “You going to tell Matthews?”

Vivian lifts her chin. “Of course, I am.”

“Let him know I had to take a call.” He strolls deeper into the office, heading right toward me. I’m sitting at the desk all office aides use, and there’s only one chair. “Move out of my seat, Albright.”

Vivian sucks in a sharp breath at his rude demand, while I spin the chair around to face him, glaring up at him defiantly. “Make me.”

He doesn’t slow his approach, only stopping when his feet are practically on top of mine, his eyes blazing with anger. At least there’s some emotion there. Usually, his eyes are either blank or full of contemptuous amusement. Like the world is a joke and we’re all here to entertain him.

God, I really can’t stand this boy. I’m the nice girl. The person who smiles at everyone, even though most of the students on this campus barely acknowledge me.

I don’t understand why I care what others think about me, or why I waste my time, but here I am, nearing my breaking point, ready to unleash all over Arch Lancaster.

“You really want to mess with me right now?” His voice is low. I’m not even sure if Vivian could make out what he said and she’s only standing a few feet away from us, but I can definitely hear the threat in his tone. See the venom in his eyes.

The phone rings and Vivian rushes to answer it, leaving Arch and me to talk freely.

“I thought I didn’t matter to you.” I arch a brow. “You don’t consider me a threat, remember?”

“I don’t consider you at all,” he drawls as his gaze sweeps over me, lingering.

Making me squirm.

I jump to my feet, irritated with myself and my reaction. Startling him since I moved so fast and he doesn’t have the time to step away from me. We’re so close, I can feel his body heat, smell his scent and I mentally brace myself.

Again, I can’t help but think he smells…good. And I hate it.

“For someone who claims he doesn’t think about me, I suddenly catch you staring at me all the time,” I taunt.

Arch makes a dismissive noise. “Please. You wish I was staring at you. You’re just pissed I never considered you in the first place.”

“You’re rude.”

“And you’re a pick-me girl,” he throws back at me.

I go silent, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve never heard that phrase before? You’re the type of girl who always acts like, ‘pick me, pick me.’ You’re dying for someone to pay attention to you, to talk to you, hell, even to look at you. Because no one notices you, Daze. You walk around campus with your sunshiny attitude and your stupid braid.” He literally flicks it off my shoulder with his fingers. “But no one really sees you.”

My chin is wobbling and my eyes are misty, but I refuse to cry. I absolutely refuse. There is no way I’m going to fall apart and let him see me in a weak moment. I’m the one who started this fight.

I need to finish it.

He leans in closer, his mouth at my ear, his breath hot on my skin when he speaks. “But I see you. I see exactly what you are. A little nobody who doesn’t matter. A lost little girl with severe mommy issues.”

I don’t even remember it happening. It’s as if I blink and suddenly my palm is stinging and there’s a red mark on Arch’s cheek in the shape of a hand. A stunned expression on his face.

I slapped him.