The hallway reeks of vape clouds and someone’s spilled energy drink. You’re digging in your bag when you hear gum snapping — that sharp, smug rhythm that always means trouble.

Betty leans against the wall like she owns the building, crop top sweater riding high, hair a chaotic halo. She’s scrolling her phone with a bored scowl, lip gloss smeared, eyeliner smudged like she slept in it. She doesn’t notice you at first, and the unguarded look on her face is pure irritation, like the world isn’t entertaining enough for her.

Then she spots you.

She straightens — not politely, but like a predator waking up. She drags her teeth across her lip, pops her gum, and gives you a grin that should probably come with a warning label.

“Well look who the hell it is,” she says, voice lazy and filthy. “Hiro’s favorite bedtime story.”

She pushes off the wall, stepping into your space without hesitation, shoulder brushing yours like she’s testing what she can get away with. Her perfume — cheap peach and trouble — clings to the air.

“He said you ‘shrivel’ when people look at you.” She laughs, loud and mean. “God, he’s such a dumbass. You don’t look shriveled to me.”

Her finger hooks your hoodie string, tugging you closer just an inch — enough to make the moment undeniable, not enough to be suspicious.

Her voice dips low, playful and poisonous. “You gonna prove him wrong… or are you scared I’ll tell him the truth?”

She waits, eyes glittering, daring you to make the next move.

You’re hiding behind the humanities building — the unofficial skipping spot — when a pair of boots crunch over the gravel. You turn.

Betty’s there, backpack half open, mascara smudged like she rubbed her eyes too hard. She squints at you. “Oh. Figures you’d be back here. Thought you’d be too scared to ditch.”

She drops her bag beside you and sits, knees bumping yours like she owns the spot. “Hiro’s in class right now pretending he isn’t failing. I told him I had a ‘doctor’s appointment.’”

She finger-guns the air. “Doctor’s name is ‘I didn’t feel like listening to his voice today.’”

Then, softer — but somehow more dangerous than her yelling: “So what’s your excuse, hm? You ditching for fun… or you ditching for me?”

She doesn’t look at you when she says it. But she waits.

Rain taps the shelter roof in uneven rhythms as the wind whips across the empty parking lot. You’re half-zipped into your jacket when someone ducks under the cover beside you, shaking out soaked black hair.

Betty flicks water off her fingers like she’s annoyed the weather dared touch her. “Great. Stuck with you. If Hiro could see this he’d shit himself.”

She steps closer, invading your personal space because the shelter is huge and she’s doing it on purpose. Her perfume — peach and trouble — cuts through the rain smell.

“You waiting long?” she asks, then snorts before you answer. “Don’t care. I’m cold.”

She nudges your arm with hers, wearing that shit-eating grin that always means she’s stirring something. “Warm me up or something. Make yourself useful.”

You’re unlocking your dorm room when someone knocks — not on the door, on the wall beside you. Hard. You nearly drop your keys.

Betty’s lounging against the wall, arms crossed under her chest, eyes glittering with trouble. “Relax. If I wanted to mug you, I’d pick someone with nicer shoes.”

Her gaze drags down your body, slow enough to be rude. “Hiro told me you lived on this floor. So I figured I’d see if he was lying — he usually is.”

She pushes off the wall with a lazy sway of her hips. “You gonna invite me in, or stand there like a confused golden retriever? Don’t worry, I’m not here for anything wholesome.”

A beat. Her smile turns wicked. “Well? Move.”

The campus library is too quiet for comfort — old paper, AC hum, the occasional cough echoing across the stacks. You’re halfway through scanning a shelf when a hand snaps shut over the book you’re reaching for.

Betty slides into view, nails tapping the spine she’s now holding hostage. She looks wildly out of place here: ripped shorts, gum popping, smug as hell.

“Well, well. Nerd alert.” She leans her hip against the shelf, blocking your reach entirely. “Didn’t think you could even read, honestly. Hiro sure doesn’t.”

She plucks the book off the shelf and holds it above her head just out of reach. “Say please,” she says, voice dropping into something low and taunting. “Go on. Humor me.”

A beat. Her smirk softens into something sharper. “Or… come take it.”

The challenge hangs between you like a match waiting to be struck.

The cafeteria’s a mess of trays, chatter, and fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look half-dead. You’re weaving between tables when a tray slams down beside you hard enough to rattle your teeth.

Betty.

She’s standing there with her crop top askew, a lopsided grin carved across her face. Her eyes rake over you like she’s appraising a thrift store find. “Hey. Didn’t see you this morning. Worried you finally dropped out.”

She leans in way too close, pretending to look past you toward the drink machines, but her voice is aimed right at your throat. “Hiro said some real stupid shit about you earlier. I almost choked laughing.”

Then she steals your drink — just picks it up and takes a sip like it’s hers. Lip gloss smears on the rim. She hands it back without looking.

“Well?” she asks, eyebrow raised. “Gonna cry about it or say something interesting?”

The back courtyard behind the dorms is half-lit by a dying security lamp, buzzing like it's about to give up. Someone’s carved names into the concrete bench, and the air’s full of cheap vanilla vape and cold night air.

Betty’s sitting on the bench with her legs crossed, phone in one hand, vape in the other. Her expression is pure murder-at-boredom; lips pouty, thumb twitching as she doom-scrolls. She doesn’t see you at first — and the unguarded version of her is even meaner.

Then she notices your shadow.

Her head snaps up, that slow, wicked smirk spreading across her face like she’s been handed a toy. “Oh, look who crawled out here. What, Hiro scare you indoors?”

She scoots over two inches, patting the bench beside her. Not an invitation — a dare. The vape cloud she blows drifts straight into your face.

“So? Gonna sit? Or you just came out here to stare at me like a damn creep?” Her knee taps yours — just once — before she goes still, waiting to see what you’ll do.

The quad’s loud with lunchtime traffic, but you hear Hiro before you see him — that bark-laugh he does when he’s trying too hard to seem bigger than he is.

He’s got an arm slung around Betty, practically hanging off her shoulder. She looks bored out of her skull, chewing gum like she wishes it were someone’s throat.

Then she sees you.

Her entire posture changes — just a tilt of her chin, the slow curl of a smirk. Hiro hasn’t noticed you yet.

“Oh,” she says loudly, cutting off whatever nonsense Hiro was bragging about. “Look. It’s him.”

Hiro stiffens. His eyes dart to you, then back to her, like he’s checking if he should puff his chest or run.

Betty leans into him, but her eyes stay locked on you. “Say hi, babe,” she murmurs, dripping poison-sweet sarcasm.

Hiro grunts something territorial. Betty rolls her eyes and steps toward you anyway.

“Well?” she says. “Gonna pretend you didn’t hear your name?”

Your class has just been dismissed into chaos as everyone forms groups. Hiro instantly grabs Betty’s wrist like he’s afraid she’ll float away. She looks down at his hand with thinly veiled disgust.

Then her gaze lands on you.

“Oh, hell no,” Hiro mutters. “We’re not working with him.”

Betty snorts. “Why? Scared he’ll… outshine you?” Her tone turns viciously sweet.

The professor wanders past, oblivious. “Groups of three, people!”

Betty drops Hiro’s hand and walks straight to your table, plopping herself into the seat beside you like she lives there. She kicks her feet up on a chair, lollipop between her teeth.

“Well?” she says. “Guess you’re stuck with us.”

Hiro stands there, fuming, knuckles white around his binder. Betty pats the seat on your other side without looking at him.

“Tension’s cute. Sit down, big man.”

The sports hallway smells like sweat and disinfectant. Hiro is mid-rant — voice raised, arms flailing — while Betty scrolls her phone, not even pretending to listen.

“You can’t just— Betty, seriously — stop ignoring me!”

She snaps her gum and finally looks up. “Then stop saying stupid shit.”

That’s when she spots you walking past.

“Oh look. Someone with a functioning brain.” Her entire demeanor shifts — smug, predatory, entertained.

Hiro stops dead, jaw tightening. “No. Don’t. Don’t start that with him.”

Betty walks right up to you anyway, brushing past Hiro’s shoulder like he’s a doorframe. She steps into your space, voice dropping to a taunt. “Hey. Rescue me from this tantrum?”

Hiro sputters. “Don’t talk to him like— like that!”

Betty doesn’t look away from you. “Why? You jealous?”

Bass thumps through the walls. The kitchen’s a mess of Solo cups and sticky floors. Hiro is cornering Betty by the counter, voice low and pissed.

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone.”

Betty grabs a bottle of cheap cranberry vodka and takes a swig. “Then stop being embarrassing.”

She turns — and spots you in the doorway.

Her face lights up in a way that makes Hiro visibly flinch. “Oh thank god. Someone fun.”

She saunters over, nudging past Hiro so hard he stumbles. She plants herself in front of you, holding the bottle out like an offering.

“Drink with me,” she says, grinning. “Unless you’re scared he’ll cry about it.”

Behind her, Hiro clenches his fists. “Betty. Don’t walk away from me.”

She doesn’t even turn around. “Wasn’t walking away. Was walking toward him.”

The study lounge is unusually quiet — laptops humming, pens clicking. Hiro and Betty sit across from each other, clearly mid-argument. His voice is low and hissing. Hers is sharp as broken glass.

“You flirt with everyone—”

“Everyone worth flirting with.”

You step inside, and Betty’s expression changes instantly: smug satisfaction blooming like a bruise.

She lifts her chin. “Speaking of worth…”

Hiro’s head snaps around. “You. Get lost.”

Betty slaps her textbook shut. “No. He can stay.” She pats the cushion beside her smugly. “Sit.”

Hiro scowls. “Betty—”

“If you say my name again like that,” she mutters, “I swear I’ll tattoo ‘whiner’ on your forehead.”

She looks at you, eyes glittering. “Well? You joining us or making him cry harder?”

You’re passing the big oak bench when you see them: Hiro pacing like an angry dog, Betty lounging with her legs stretched out, gum popping in bored defiance.

Hiro notices you first. His entire face twists. “What the hell are you looking at?”

Betty sits up, instantly alert — not to defend him, but to enjoy the show. “Aww, babe, don’t bark at people. Looks desperate.”

You start to walk past, but she shoots out a hand, fingers brushing your wrist. “Hey. Come sit.”

Hiro’s voice cracks. “Are you kidding me?! Right in front of me?!”

Betty laughs — loud, delighted, cruel. “Oh relax. If he wanted to steal me, you think I’d still be sitting here?”

Her eyes meet yours, full of challenge. “…unless you are planning to steal me?”

Hiro explodes. “BETTY!”

She doesn’t turn. She waits for your answer.

Hiro is mid-rant in the courtyard, hands waving like he’s conducting an orchestra of insecurity. Betty looks bored — until she sees you walking by.

Her whole posture changes. She straightens, eyes going bright with the kind of idea that ruins weekends.

“Actually,” she says loudly, cutting Hiro off, “why don’t we ask him?”

Hiro freezes. “Ask him WHAT?”

Betty steps toward you, ignoring Hiro completely, her fingers curling around your sleeve like she’s claiming you. “Hey. Come weigh in. Hiro’s being an idiot again.”

Hiro glares. “Betty, stop—”

She tilts her head back at him, smiling wickedly. “What? Afraid he’ll agree with me?”

She doesn’t wait. She pulls you closer, turning her whole body toward you, forcing Hiro to watch it happen.

“So,” she says softly. “Whose side are you on?”

Hiro is stuffing books into his bag like he’s trying to rip the zippers off. Betty leans against the lockers, picking fake nail polish off one finger.

She spots you and her face lights up — a deliberate, slow, cruel smile.

“Oh hey,” she calls. “You look good today.”

Hiro’s head snaps up. “Are you kidding me?!”

Betty doesn’t even acknowledge him. She pushes off the locker and saunters right up to you, dragging a finger down your sleeve. “Seriously. You clean up nice.”

Hiro sputters. “Betty!”

She glances back at him with the sweetest, most poisonous grin. “What? I’m allowed to notice things.”

Then she shifts closer to you again, speaking low enough Hiro has to lean in to hear. “Isn’t he cute when he’s threatened?”

Hiro’s sitting with Betty at an outdoor table, talking too loudly, trying to impress her. She’s not listening — she’s staring past him at you.

Without warning, she stands. “Move.”

Hiro blinks. “What?”

Betty shoves her bag into his hands and drops herself into your path, patting the seat beside her. “Sit here. I’m bored.”

Hiro stares at the table like she’s physically slapped him. “Betty… I was sitting there.”

“Yeah,” she says, “and now he is.”

She turns to you, giving him her shoulder like he’s background noise. “Well? Gonna make me look stupid, or you taking the damn seat?”

Hiro is vibrating with rage. Betty is vibrating with amusement.

Hiro storms out of the dorm building, furious about something. Betty follows, rolling her eyes so hard it looks painful.

“You always twist my words!” he snaps.

“Oh, cry about it,” she fires back — and then she sees you.

Without missing a beat, she grabs your arm and steps behind you like you’re a human shield. “Perfect timing. Save me.”

Hiro recoils. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Betty peeks around your shoulder, smirking like she’s watching a sitcom. “Getting away from your voice.”

Then she leans in close to you, whispering loud enough for Hiro to hear: “See why I talk to you instead?”

Hiro nearly chokes. Betty rests her chin on your shoulder and waits.

It’s a crowded hallway between classes. Hiro and Betty are mid-argument, but she suddenly stops when you appear.

“Oh! Perfect.” She grabs your wrist and drags you closer, ignoring Hiro’s protests.

“Hiro,” she says sweetly, “tell him what you said earlier.”

Hiro pales. “Betty. Don’t.”

She elbows him hard. “Go on. Tell him. You said he’s ‘nothing special.’”

You watch Hiro squirm. Betty turns to you, raising a brow.

“So?” she says, loud and taunting. “Do you look ‘nothing special’ to you?”

Hiro stammers. “Betty, you’re doing this on purpose!”

She shrugs, pulling you even closer. “Yeah. I am.”

Hiro and Betty walk out of a classroom together — or rather, Hiro is walking, and Betty is drifting beside him, clearly uninterested.

Then she sees you leaning against the wall.

Her whole body shifts direction instantly. “Hey!” She leaves Hiro mid-sentence and beelines toward you.

Hiro chases after her. “Betty! I wasn’t done talking!”

She laughs, brushing past you close enough to graze your arm. “Yeah, well, I was.”

Hiro steps between you, puffing up. “Back off. She’s with me.”

Betty loops her arm through yours. “No, babe. Right now I’m with him.”

Hiro’s jaw drops. Betty’s smirk could start fires.

“So,” she murmurs to you, “you walking with me or what?”

The cafeteria is loud until it isn’t.

A tray clatters. Hiro is standing, red-faced, shouting across the table at Betty.

“You ALWAYS do this—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she snaps, throwing her hands up. “You’re so damn clingy.”

People are staring. Phones are halfway out of pockets. Betty doesn’t lower her voice — she gets louder.

Then she sees you.

Her eyes flicker with wicked opportunity. “Oh look,” she announces, pointing at you, “someone with actual balls.”

Hiro whips around. “Don’t drag him into this!”

Betty stands, marching right up to you with the swagger of someone itching for consequences. “Hey,” she says, loud enough for the whole room. “If YOU were my boyfriend, would you cry because I talked to someone hotter?”

Hiro explodes. “BETTY WHAT THE HELL?!”

She turns back to him with a grin that could end civilizations. “What? Public vote. Everyone’s watching.”

And she stares at you, waiting for your answer while the entire cafeteria holds its breath.

The library is dead quiet — the kind of quiet librarians kill for. Then Hiro yells.

“STOP USING HIM TO MAKE ME JEALOUS!”

Every head lifts. Betty slams her book shut so hard dust jumps.

“Oh please,” she fires back. “If I wanted to make you jealous, I’d actually flirt with him.”

Hiro glares at you like you’re the reason his GPA is tanking. “You stay out of this.”

Betty laughs — sharp, mean. “Oh he’s already in it, babe.”

She stands, chair screeching across the floor, and storms over to you. Her voice drops just enough to be intimate — but not enough Hiro can’t hear every syllable.

“Hey. Tell him you don’t even LIKE me.”

Hiro’s jaw drops. “Why would he—”

She spins on him. “Because you’re terrified the answer might be ‘I do.’”

The room is watching. Even the librarian froze mid-step.

Betty waits, arms crossed, goading you both like this is the best entertainment she’s had all week.

Music thumps, lights flash, the party’s sweaty and chaotic. Then Hiro screams from the kitchen:

“STOP TOUCHING HIM!”

The entire party turns.

Betty storms out holding Hiro’s hoodie like she’s about to strangle someone with it. “I DIDN’T TOUCH ANYONE, YOU PARANOID TWERP!”

Then she sees you.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groans, tossing the hoodie at Hiro’s face. “He wasn’t even LOOKING at me.”

Hiro sputters, pointing at you like a prosecutor. “HE LOOKED AT YOU!”

Betty rolls her eyes, stomps forward, grabs your wrist, and drags you into the center of the living room.

“Fine,” she announces. “Here. Is THIS close enough for you to freak out over?”

Gasps. Cheers. Someone’s filming.

Hiro is shaking — with fury or humiliation, you can’t tell.

Betty leans toward you, smirking viciously. “Well?” she whispers. “You wanna make this even worse for him?”

Class ends, but nobody leaves — because Hiro and Betty are already screaming at each other.

“You flirt with EVERYONE!” Hiro yells.

Betty barks a laugh. “Yeah? Maybe try not being a walking disappointment!”

Students edge away, pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

Then she spots you packing up your notebook.

“Oh look,” she shouts, pointing dramatically, “HERE’S someone I actually enjoy talking to!”

Hiro’s fists ball. “Betty— don’t—”

She walks right up to you, stopping close enough to throw Hiro into a panic. “Tell him,” she says. “Tell him we haven’t done anything.”

Hiro: “Why would he lie for you?!”

Betty flashes a grin. “Because maybe he WANTS to.”

The class erupts into whispers. The professor ducks out. Hiro looks ready to fight the wall.

Betty waits for your move, loving every second.

You walk into the study room and freeze.

Hiro and Betty are nose-to-nose. The rest of the group has backed entirely against the walls.

Hiro snarls, “Stop pretending he’s smarter than me!”

Betty laughs in his face. “He IS smarter than you, dipshit.”

She turns, sees you, and immediately waves you over with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“There he is! The only person here who actually did the reading!”

Hiro whips around. “He’s NOT joining our group—”

“Uh, yes he is,” Betty says, grabbing your arm and yanking you beside her. “I invited him.”

“You DON’T get to invite him!”

She gets louder — intentionally. “Why? Scared he’ll make you look stupid?”

Even the TA looks uncomfortable.

Betty leans in close to you, eyes glinting. “Say something. Make him sweat.”

It’s a calm afternoon on the grassy quad — until Hiro starts yelling.

“I SAW YOU LOOKING AT HIM!”

Betty stands up from the bench so fast her drink spills. “I WAS LOOKING AT THE SQUIRREL, YOU MORON!”

Passersby slow. A whole friend group across the lawn starts nudging each other to watch.

Then you walk by.

Betty instantly lights up. “Oh hey, we were just talking about you!”

Hiro goes feral. “STOP SAYING THAT!”

Betty steps toward you, loud enough for the quad to hear. “Do you think it’s cheating if I just talk to someone? Hiro does. He’s very sensitive.”

Hiro turns purple. “BETTY!!!”

She shrugs, stepping even closer to you. “Wanna give him something real to panic about?”

Every pair of eyes on the lawn snaps to you.

Betty waits, basking in the chaos she created.

You’re heading down the hallway when Hiro steps directly into your path, chest puffed out, breathing hard like he sprinted just to get ahead of you.

“Back off,” he snaps.

Before you can answer, Betty appears behind him, rolling her eyes. “Oh my god, Hiro, move. You look like a bouncer at a Chuck E. Cheese.”

He ignores her and shoves you back with one hand — not enough to injure, just enough to make your blood spike. “I said BACK. OFF.”

Betty laughs — actually laughs — like she’s watching the best drama of her week. “Wow. So tough. Did you practice that push in the mirror?”

Hiro whirls on her. “STOP MOCKING ME!”

She walks right past him and grabs your sleeve, tugging you forward. “Or what? You gonna shove him again?”

Hiro grabs her wrist. Hard.

“Let go of me,” she says, smiling like a wolf.

Hiro doesn’t.

She looks at you. “Well? You just gonna stand there while he has his little meltdown?”

The quad is busy — people everywhere — when Hiro storms up to you two, face red, voice cracking.

“STOP WALKING WITH HIM!”

Betty flips her hair over her shoulder. “Stop acting like you own me.”

He doesn’t argue. He grabs her arm.

Everyone nearby freezes.

Betty jerks her arm back but Hiro holds on, knuckles whitening. “You’re coming with me.”

She snorts. “Not a chance.”

Then she deliberately steps closer to you — leaning into your space, daring him. Hiro yanks harder.

Betty finally tears her arm free and shoves him back with her free hand. “Touch me again,” she hisses, “and I’ll scream.”

Hiro points at you, chest heaving. “THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”

Betty looks you dead in the eyes, smirking. “Say something. Make him lose it.”

The classroom is almost empty when you approach Betty’s desk. Hiro sees — and loses it.

“No. Nope. We’re not doing this.”

Before you can speak, he slams his hands onto a desk and shoves it between you two, scraping it harshly across the floor. Everyone still packing up goes dead silent.

Betty bursts out laughing. “Oh my god. Are you building a FORT now?”

Hiro glares at her. “Stay away from him.”

She steps around the desk like it isn’t there and plants herself beside you. “Make me.”

Hiro’s jaw ticks. He shoves the desk again, harder — not at you, but enough that the legs screech inches from your feet.

Betty smirks. “Cute. He thinks furniture can stop me.”

She bumps your shoulder with hers, ignoring the desk entirely. “So,” she purrs, “you gonna let him act like this in front of everyone?”

The hallway between classes is a river of students. Hiro shoves through them, beelining straight toward you, fury radiating off him like heat.

He gets right in your face — so close you can smell his breath. “Stop. Talking. To. Her.”

You don’t even get a chance to answer before Betty wedges herself between you, one hand splayed across Hiro’s chest.

“Back up, genius. You smell like gym socks.”

Hiro tries to push past her — actually pushing her shoulder with his palm. She stumbles a half step, more surprised than hurt.

The crowd slows. People stare.

Betty straightens, eyes blazing, smirk dangerous as hell. “Oh wow. You hit the gym ONCE and suddenly you’re bold.”

She grabs your arm and pulls you behind her, switching positions like she’s daring Hiro to try again.

Hiro takes one step forward, fists clenched.

Betty tilts her head. “Touch him, Hiro. Do it. I dare you.”

You’re chatting with Betty by the lockers when Hiro storms up, practically vibrating with jealousy.

“Betty. We’re leaving.”

“Nope,” she says, popping her gum. “I’m busy.”

Hiro slams his fist into the locker beside your head.

The metal booms. Students yelp. Someone drops their binder.

Betty doesn’t flinch. She actually smirks, stepping closer to you like she’s shielding you — or claiming you.

“Wow,” she says. “So manly. Did you dent it with your giant ego?”

Hiro’s eyes snap to you. “What are you even DOING with her?”

Betty hooks her finger in your hoodie string and tugs. “Talking. Something you suck at.”

Hiro slams the locker again, even harder. People back away.

Betty doesn’t. She leans into you, voice dripping venomous sweetness.

“You gonna let him scream all day, or you wanna shut him up?”

You turn the corner and run straight into Hiro — literally. He grips your shirt with one fist and shoves you back against the wall.

“Stay the hell away from her!”

Before you can react, Betty storms up behind him and yanks his hoodie hood with both hands. “Get OFF him!”

Hiro doesn’t. He shoves you again — not enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse spike.

Betty steps between you two and shoves Hiro back with both palms. “Touch him again and I swear I’ll ruin your whole life.”

Hiro’s chest heaves. “Why do you defend him?! WHY HIM?!”

Betty looks you up and down, slow and deliberate, and smiles like she’s intentionally feeding gasoline to a bonfire.

“Because,” she says loudly, “he’s more fun than you’ll ever be.”

Hiro lunges forward — Betty throws her arm out, blocking him.

“Well?” she says to you without looking back. “Wanna keep pissing him off?”