If you told me yesterday that someone with a private jet would end up sitting next to me in class, I would've laughed… and maybe choked on my microwaved breakfast sandwich.
But here I am, second row from the front, with my glasses sliding down my nose, as the literal definition of unfairly good-looking and rich walks into my classroom.
"Class, please welcome our new transfer student, Elias Vale," Ms. Donovan says, doing a terrible job at hiding her excitement. She might as well have rolled out a red carpet.
Elias walks in like he's stepping into a Vogue cover shoot—effortlessly cool, in a tailored school uniform that probably costs more than my family's entire rent for the year. His hair is perfect. His skin glows. And the way he carries himself? Like someone who already knows he's important.
He doesn't even glance around like normal transfer students do. He just heads straight to the empty seat next to me.
Why me? Of all places?
Now, let's get one thing straight: I, Callie Ramirez, am not what you'd call "main character material." I'm the chubby girl in the back who reads books during lunch breaks and hopes nobody notices her. I wear glasses thicker than my mom's lasagna, and most people think I'm just part of the furniture in this classroom.
I'm only here because of my scholarship. Yep—St. Vincent Academy isn't your average high school. It's one of those fancy private schools where most students arrive in shiny black cars, and their parents wear suits even at breakfast. I got in because I'm smart, not rich. A rare breed around here.
So when Elias Vale, son of one of the richest families in the country, sits beside me, it's not just shocking. It's universe-level strange.
"Hi," I whisper, because I'm polite like that.
He doesn't say anything. Just pulls out a fancy leather notebook and a gold pen like it's a normal Tuesday. Who even brings gold pens to school?
Ms. Donovan starts talking about Shakespeare, but my brain has exited the building.
I sneak a side glance at Elias. He's calm. Like he belongs here. Like he isn't a multi-millionaire's son accidentally dropped into a classroom filled with students who actually budget for snacks.
Then, out of nowhere, he turns slightly toward me.
"What chapter are we on?" he asks, in a voice smooth enough to be sold in expensive jars at a spa.
I blink. "Uh… chapter three."
He nods. "Thanks."
That's it. Two words. No smile. No sparkly anime moment. But still, I feel like I've just been knighted.
By the time the bell rings, I've basically forgotten what Shakespeare even wrote.
Elias stands, slings his sleek bag over one shoulder, and walks out like a silent storm.
I stare after him, still half-stunned.
There's rich… and then there's Elias Vale rich. And something tells me that my painfully average life just got a little less average.