Her Secret, His Obsession

Westwood Academy was the kind of school that appeared in glossy magazines.... white stone walls, glass towers that caught the sunlight like chandeliers, and hallways that smelled of money, legacy, and polished ambition.

Children of senators roamed the courtyard. Heirs of oil tycoons laughed on marble steps. Models in training posed by the fountain between classes, pretending their lives weren’t already mapped out in gold leaf.

Amara Johnson didn’t belong here.

At least, that was the whisper that followed her everywhere.

She clutched her books to her chest, the edges digging into her arms as she walked down the hallway lined with gold-framed photos of alumni who had gone on to become CEOs, actors, and people whose names filled newspaper headlines.

Her sweater... not designer.... hung slightly loose on her chubby frame, and her glasses kept sliding down her nose each time she breathed.

“Excuse me,” a girl in heels said sharply, brushing past her as if Amara carried a disease. She smiled apologetically, though she had done nothing wrong. That was the thing about being the scholarship girl..... she was always apologizing. The scholarship had been her miracle. Her mother called it God’s reward for her late-night studying. Her little sister said it was proof she was a genius.

Amara just thought it was survival.

Westwood Academy offered opportunities she could never dream of otherwise, but it also came with a price: she was a guest in someone else’s world, always reminded that she didn’t fit the dress code of wealth or beauty.

And then there was him.

Louis Everinsburg.

His last name alone carried weight.... Everinsburg, the billion-dollar family whose companies owned half the city. He didn’t walk; he glided through the halls with a confidence born from knowing the world would bend for him. Tall, athletic, perfect jawline, a smile that made even the teachers pause. Girls swooned in waves whenever he passed, their giggles following him like perfume.

Amara noticed him the first day she walked into school. Everyone did. But for her, it was different. She had never liked a boy before.... not really. Her world had been books, homework, chores, babysitting her sister, and trying to help her mother make ends meet. Boys were something other girls talked about while she lived in a different universe entirely. But Louis… Louis was the first boy who made her heart thud painfully against her ribs. Not because he spoke to her..... he never did. Not because he noticed her.... he didn’t. But because he looked like everything she thought was impossible to want. Amara tried not to stare too much. She pretended to be absorbed in her textbooks whenever he passed.

But sometimes, especially in literature class, she caught him from the corner of her eye..... laughing with friends, leaning back in his chair, running hands through his hair as if aware of every pair of eyes watching him. He was the sun. And she… she was barely a candle.

///////

Louis didn’t return to class that day.....

He walked the opposite direction, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw tight, irritation crawling beneath his skin like a rash he couldn’t scratch in public. It annoyed him.... how his attention had snagged on something so insignificant.

A girl. Not just any girl.

Her.

He leaned against the cold stone wall near the west staircase, pretending to scroll through his phone while his mind replayed the image he hadn’t meant to see.

Amara Johnson.

He knew her name. That was the part he hated the most. She sat in the third row of literature class, always near the aisle, always quiet, always pretending she didn’t notice the way the world ignored her.

Scholarship student. Brilliant.....

Poor.

Invisible to everyone except teachers who liked to brag about “diversity.” Louis had noticed her weeks ago. Not because she was loud. Not because she tried to get attention. But because she didn’t. Because while other girls leaned forward when he entered a room.... laughing louder, flipping hair, brushing past him “accidentally”.... Amara shrank inward, like she was trying to disappear into her sweater. And something about that had lodged itself in his head. He told himself it was curiosity. An experiment. A passing interest.

That was a lie.

Louis had watched her more than he should have. From the corner of his eye in class. From across the courtyard while pretending to listen to his friends. From the balcony during assemblies, spotting her head bent over a book while everyone else craned for attention. She never tried to be beautiful. She never tried to impress him. And that was exactly why his gaze kept finding her. He closed his phone and exhaled slowly. No one could ever know. Not his friends who already assumed every girl at Westwood was available to him. Not the girls who thought they owned his attention because of their last names and social media followers. Not even himself... at least not fully.

A girl like Amara Johnson didn’t fit into his world. She wasn’t polished. She wasn’t connected. She wasn’t strategic. She wasn't….. his type.

But she was dangerous in a way he didn’t understand yet...

///////

Her only safe place in school was the library. It smelled like old pages and quiet dreams. The tables were usually empty except for a sleepy tutor or a stressed senior writing an essay. For Amara, it was the only place where she didn’t feel judged..... where books didn’t care if her uniform wasn’t perfectly tailored or her shoes weren’t imported Italian leather.

“Back here again?” The librarian, Mrs. Connors, smiled as Amara came in. “You’re going to finish the entire library before graduation.” “I’m trying,” she joked softly. “Your grades say you already have.” Mrs. Connors winked. Amara flushed. Compliments always made her uncomfortable. Praise was a luxury she wasn’t used to receiving. She found her favorite corner and opened her calculus book. But today, no matter how hard she tried, numbers refused to stay on the page. She kept thinking about something her best, and only.... friend Leah had said earlier that morning. “You have a crush on Louis,” Leah teased, twirling her pink braided hair. “I do not.” “You do. You stare sometimes.” “I stare at everyone.” “Amara, please. You look at him like you’re reading a romance novel.” Amara had thrown a pencil at her. But now, alone in the quiet library, she forced herself to whisper: “Okay… maybe a little crush.” Just a little.

Just enough to make her heart flutter. Just enough to make her look forward to school.

Just enough to make her feel like a normal teenage girl for once.

She was lost in her thoughts when voices drifted from outside the library door.... loud, laughing, familiar.

Louis and his friends.

Her pulse spiked. She immediately ducked her head behind her book, pretending to read. They stopped near the entrance, chatting about a party someone’s father was throwing. Louis’ laughter rolled into the library like warm thunder, deep and effortless. The librarian shushed them immediately, and the boys tried to stifle their amusement as they walked away. But Louis glanced back for a split second, his eyes sweeping the quiet room. They landed on Amara. Her breath caught. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He simply looked.... confused, maybe curious.... for the briefest moment. Then he turned and left. The entire encounter lasted barely a second… but it was enough to burn itself into her memory.

Enough to make her heart betray her. Enough to strengthen the tiny, foolish hope she tried so hard not to have.

His eyes had found her in the library by instinct, not intention. The second they locked, something sharp twisted in his chest. Not recognition. Something worse. Desire.

She had looked startled, like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s sightline. Like she hadn’t expected to be seen. And for a heartbeat, Louis had wondered what she would do if he walked toward her instead of away. Would she freeze?

Would she blush?

Would she run?

The thought sent a slow, unwelcome thrill down his spine. He straightened, forcing his expression back into its usual mask.... bored confidence, effortless control.

This was nothing. She was nothing. Just a quiet girl with oversized sweaters and ink-stained fingers.

And yet… Later that afternoon, when his friend joked about a party and asked which girl Louis planned to bring, his answer came too easily.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a careless shrug. “They’re all the same.” But his mind betrayed him. Because suddenly, all of them weren’t the same anymore. Because somewhere between marble hallways and dusty library shelves, a girl who didn’t belong had lodged herself into his thoughts like a secret he couldn’t confess. Louis Everinsburg didn’t chase girls. He didn’t fixate. He didn’t obsess.

And he especially didn’t notice girls who were never meant to touch his world. So why.... Why did the idea of her looking at someone else tighten his chest? Why did the thought of her being unnoticed feel wrong? Why did he already want to be the only one who saw her?

He maintained his facade for the rest of the day, face calm, reputation intact. No one noticed the shift. No one ever did. And Amara Johnson would never know that while she believed herself invisible… She had already been chosen.

The truth was simple:

Louis Everinsburg had no idea their worlds would crash together in a way neither of them could ever forget. And the night that would change her life forever..... the night that would break her.... was already waiting on the horizon.

Prom fever swept through Westwood Academy like a glittery storm. Posters decorated the hallways, dresses were shipped in from Paris, and girls spent lunchtime comparing nail colors while boys boasted about who they planned to take. Every day felt louder, brighter, and more dramatic.... everything Amara hated.

Amara sat alone at her usual cafeteria corner, pushing a fork through her food while Leah bounced into the seat beside her, practically vibrating with excitement. “Guess what?” Leah announced. “You found a galaxy where no one ever has to attend prom?” Amara muttered without looking up. “No,” Leah scoffed. “Better. I got us tickets!” Amara froze, fork mid-air.

“Tickets to what?” Leah blinked. “What do you mean ‘to what’? To prom!” “Leah…” Amara dropped her fork. “Why would you do that?”

Leah leaned forward, crossing her arms with the stubborn stare Amara disliked because it always won. “Because you’re going,” she said. “You’ve been hidin