Chapter 1

Alexandra's POV

The sudden cacophony of screams outside the lab window startled me out of my concentration. I turned to see Davis Beckett, the school's star athlete, surrounded by a gaggle of adoring girls. Though I tried to return to my work, I tried to resist to be drawn in by the spectacle."

"He's such a hottie!" Summer gushed, her eyes glued to Davis. I had to admit, he was easy on the eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to swoon like the rest of the girls.

"A hottie with no brains," I scoffed, my focus firmly on the task at hand. But my words didn't have the intended effect - Summer just rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Oh, come on! You can't deny that he's got some serious swagger," l couldn't help but roll my eyes back at her.

"Swagger doesn't give good grades" Summer,' I said. 'A good head on your shoulders does. That's what we should be focusing on, instead of mooning over a pretty face.'"

Suddenly, the door swung open and in walked Davis himself.

"Pretty face! She finally agrees I'm good-looking!" he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You're wrong," I said coolly, meeting Davis's gaze. "I would never say anything nice about you." My tone was icy, and I could see Summer watching me in amusement.

"Oh, is that so?" Davis replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "You sure you don't secretly admire me?"

I scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself," I said. "You're not that special."

I knew I was being harsh, but I didn't want Davis getting any ideas. He was just an handsome jock, after all. And I wasn't about to let him think he could charm his way into my good graces.

He sauntered over to my desk, his eyes fixed on me as he approached. "Are you really sure that you don't find me attractive?" he purred, his voice low and seductive.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and I struggled to keep my composure. I knew he was trying to rattle me, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I'm not going to play this game with you, Davis" I said, my voice steady.

He leaned closer, his face was so close to mine, I could feel his breath on my lips. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the urge to kiss him. But I stopped myself. I was not going to be like the other girls, swooning over him and falling for his charms. He tried to kiss me but I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. The look of shock on his face was priceless.

"You think I'm some kind of easy girl who'll just fall for your advances?" I said, my voice shaking with anger. "Well, you're wrong. I'm not interested in being another notch on your belt."

The room erupted in gasps and whispers as my hand made contact with his face. I could see the shock on his face, but I didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse. I was done playing his games. I turned and stormed out of the lab, leaving the other students gawking in my wake.

Summer followed close behind, a look of concern on her face.

Just then, Drake, Davis's best friend, burst into the room. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on the red mark on Davis's cheek.

I knew this was the last day of school, and the last thing I wanted was to get into trouble. Davis was known for being a hot-headed and vengeful guy, and I was sure he wouldn't let this slide. Not to mention, he was rich and connected, and could probably make my life a living hell if he wanted to. I figured out a way to get out of this mess.

I decided to feign illness so that I could leave school early. If I wasn't around, maybe Davis would forget about the whole incident. I knew he'd be looking for me, and I didn't want him to take it out on Summer if he couldn't find me. So I convinced her to come with me, and we made our way to the nurse's office.

"I'm not feeling well," I said, trying to sound convincing. "I think I might have a fever."

The nurse took my temperature and sure enough, I had a slight fever. She gave us a pass to leave school early.

When I got home, I was hoping to find my dad, who was usually busy working on paperwork in his study. But instead, I was greeted my dad's best friend, Roland.

"You're back!" he said with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Your father is not at home right now, but I'm glad I have a company now." He smiled at me and I chuckled.

As I looked at Roland, I felt a sudden rush of affection. He had been a constant presence in my life, always there to help and support me. He was more than my dad's best friend. And as I looked at him, I couldn't help but wonder if he could ever be more than that. Could he be the man I could love in the future? The thought made my heart race and my cheeks flush with color.

We both walked to the kitchen. "I wish your father could make more time for himself," Roland said with a sigh, as he began to prepare a pot of tea.

"It's not healthy to be so consumed by work, especially when there's so much more to life." He handed me some tea in a mug.

I nodded in agreement. "I know. But Dad has always been like that. He's dedicated to his career and he takes his responsibilities very seriously. It's hard to get him to relax and enjoy himself."

Roland paused for a moment, as if considering his next words carefully. "Maybe he just needs a little nudge in the right direction. Someone to show him that there's more to life than just his career." He said, sipping from his own cup of tea.

I looked at Roland curiously. "Do you think that someone could be you?" I asked, half-jokingly.

He smiled and shook his head. "I'm just your dad's best friend not a miracle worker," he said, chuckling. "But maybe you could try to show your father that he needs a woman in his life.He might listen to you more than he would to me."

I considered his words for a moment.

"My dad will be fine with just me by his side, he doesn't need another wife" I protested softly not trying to sound harsh towards Roland.

"You know, it might actually be a good idea for your father to remarry," Roland said thoughtfully, finishing the last of his tea.

"It could be a new chapter in his life."

Suddenly, his phone beeped. He picked it up and read the message. His face fell and his shoulders slumped.

"What's wrong?" I asked, concern rising in my voice.

He looked up at me. "It's a message from my ex-wife," he said quietly. I could tell by his expression that it was something serious.

"What does she want?" I asked

"My ex-wife wants to get back together," Roland said, his voice flat. I felt a sharp pang of disappointment, but I tried to hide it.

"Then what are you waiting for?" I asked, my voice sounding more upbeat than I felt. "If she wants to give it another shot, you should go for it. You might regret it if you don't."

Deep down, I knew that wasn't what I really wanted to say. I cared about Roland, and the thought of him reuniting with his ex-wife made me feel sick. But I knew I couldn't let my feelings show I couldn't let my personal feelings get in the way of giving him good advice. No matter how much it hurt, I had to be there for him.

His phone rang, and we both looked at it in silence.

"It's her," he said, his voice wavering. I could see the conflict on his face, and I knew he didn't know what to do.

I took a deep breath and said, "You should answer it."

"I'll be in my room if you need me."

I forced a smile and headed up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew I had to give him space to figure things out, but it was hard to walk away. I wanted to be there for him, no matter what happened. But I had to respect his privacy and let him make his own decisions.

As I closed the door to my room, I heard him answer the phone. I couldn't hear what he was saying, I laid down on my bed, my mind racing with thoughts of him.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my photos until I found the one I was looking for. It was a picture of him, his face beaming with happiness. I stared at the photo, lost in my own thoughts and feelings.

I pressed my hand to my chest, my heart beating wildly beneath my fingertips. I closed my eyes and imagined his hands on me instead of mine. My mind drifted to fantasies of what it would be like if we were together on this bed. I knew it was just a dream, but I couldn't help but indulge in the fantasy.

I reached under my pillow and pulled out my diary. It was filled with my innermost thoughts and feelings for Roland, things I couldn't tell him.

I had written about how I was drawn to his kindness, his intelligence, and his sense of humor. I also wrote about how I admired the way he carried himself with such grace and integrity.

As I tried to regain my composure, I realized that I couldn't give up on Roland. I needed to tell him how I felt, no matter what the consequences.