Embarrassment with a hint of sadness flashes across Kennedy's face as she scoots forward, sitting on her heels in front of me, fiddling with her fingers like always does when she's nervous.

She's nervous a lot around me, I've noticed.

"Okay so," she hums, letting out an airy sigh. "I think you need some context first before I get into it."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Context?"

"Yeah," she murmurs, tucking her golden hair behind her ear. "So believe it or not, Corrine, Max, and I used to be best friends-"

I blink. "What? Are you serious? Friends?"

"Yes."

This is why women are frightening. Not in a million years would I have guessed that Kennedy and Corrine were once friends. They're horrible to one another. Ruthless in their verbal attacks.

Friends? Good God.

"What happened?" I ask with a smirk, shifting my body closer to Kenny, ensuring that our voices are low enough to remain hidden from the homeowners stationed outside the shed. "Did you rip the head off of her Barbie doll?"

"Yes, once when we were like seven but that's not the reason." Kenny rolls her eyes, her lips twisting up into a little smile. "Honestly, I don't really know what happened but once we started at Hilton we just drifted apart and she started hanging out with Larisa and Maya."

"Okay..." I draw out slowly, intrigued by her story. "And?"

"So for all of Freshman year, it was pretty chill, we weren't friends but we also weren't like enemies or anything," Kenny explains. "I was kind of hurt that she just stopped talking to me, and I sort of missed her-" She pauses, scrunching up her face. "I missed her a lot actually. I know that's probably weird to hear but it's the truth."

She missed her? The girl she calls Corn-on-the-Cob?

I am mind blown.

Kennedy continues, "When Sophomore year rolled around, out of nowhere, she sent me a message on Snap saying that she wanted to reconnect and that she was sorry for cutting me out. She invited me to hang out at this park near campus where they host parties sometimes."

I nod, sensing where this is going. Kind of. Not really. "What does this have to do with trespassing?" I ask.

"I'm getting there, I'm just world-building right now, okay?" she says, adjusting her position and sitting cross-legged. "Obviously, I was a bit hesitant to hang out with her, I mean, why would she reach out to me out of nowhere, right? But Sawyer-" She freezes, her expression sheepish. "We just started dating that summer, um...he encouraged me to go and meet up with her. He said it might be my only opportunity to patch up our friendship and he wasn't wrong, she was extending an olive branch so I- I said yes."

My body tenses at the sound of Sawyer's name. Fucking prick. And they dated for two years? Bloody hell that's a long time. My longest relationship was maybe six months, perhaps shorter.

"So you went?" I ask, surveying Kennedy's face as it falls. She's like a picture book. So easy to read. She tries hard to conceal her emotions but she can't. Not from me.

"Yeah, I was on my way to the park when Corrine sent me another message on Snapchat, she said that Maya forgot her wallet at home and asked if I could go get it for her. She gave me an address and everything and told me to go through the back gate. I've never been to Maya's, I didn't even really know her, but her house was on the way so I thought why not."

I'm not liking where this is going. "It wasn't her house, was it?"

Kenny clicks her tongue. "Bingo," she sings in a defeated tone, tapping her index finger against her nose. "It was definitely not her house but I didn't know that at the time so I just went in, went upstairs to "Maya's bedroom" and started looking for her wallet like a fucking idiot."

"And someone caught you?" I ask, my veins thrumming with hatred for Corrine. What a bitch.

"Yeah, the maid," she says softly, absentmindedly playing with my shoelaces that are undone. "I had found Maya's wallet, or at least a wallet when she barged in and started screaming at me, threatening to call the cops. And she eventually did call the cops. It was a whole mess." A sly grin clips her lips as she peers up at me. "But-"

I raise an eyebrow. "There's a but?"

"There's always a but," Kenny chuckles, tying little bows on my laces. "So Corrine sent me all these instructions on Snap, probably thinking I'd have no evidence 'cause they disappear if you don't save them but I always save my messages so...when cops came, I showed them my phone and they called the Chief, who, if you remember, is Corn's dad and he just made the whole thing disappear."

"That is fucked up," I muse, resting my forearms on my knees, surveying her handy work on my shoes. She better not tie knots that I can't get out. "So you didn't get charged with anything?"

"No, thank God, Corn's dad convinced the maid it was just a prank and to not file a report. If she filed it against me, he knew I'd take Corrine down with me so yeah, it all went away." She drops my laces. "Well, not really, Hilton Hears still posted about it, so for the next year I was a thief and a trespasser." She takes a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Good times."

My eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Hilton Hears? What the fuck is that?"

"Oh God, I forgot you're still so new," Kennedy says, retrieving her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and pulling up an app. Frowning, her mouth hangs open as she reads something on the screen. "Holy shit, they recanted..."

"What are you talking about?" I ask as Kennedy holds up her screen.

We hear that: we owe Golden Girl an apology. Turns out little Miss Perfect wasn't lying about having a Knight in shining leather. Sorry Kenny girl, this one's on us. But we're curious...how long will it take for London Bridge to come falling down? Bets anyone? We give them a month.

I blink, yanking the phone from her hand and scrolling through the other messages posted on the app. "What the fuck is this shit?" I mutter, reading shady blasts about Kennedy, Corrine, Zeek, and randoms I don't know.

"That is Hilton Hears," Kennedy replies in a gloomy tone. "It's like a gossip app. Innovative right?"

"It's pathetic," I note, handing back her phone. "People actually care about this shit? You care about this shit?"

"I try not to," Kenny admits in a timid hum, pocketing her phone. "But it's hard when people post about you. How am I supposed to ignore it when I know the entire school is judging me? Talking about me?"

I cock my head to the side. "You just do. You ignore it. Why does it matter what people say about you or think about you? Opinions are worthless, especially the opinions of those that don't actually know you."

"It's not that easy, Ollie," she whispers, hanging her head, her eyes fixed on the ground. "To not care. Gossip- it's like wildfire, it's hard to ignore. Even if you try, the smoke always finds you."

Hooking two fingers under her chin, I lift up her face, my solemn gaze burrowing into her glossy eyes. "None of this matters, Kenny," I whisper. She swallows against my fingers as I pull my hand away. "In five years from now, it's not going to matter."

"But it does matter," she breathes, her chest rising. "I don't want to ruin my reputation before I even get into college. I don't want to be labeled something I'm not. It's a nice thought, Oliver, but you're wrong. Everything matters. Everything."

"I feel bad for you, Kennedy," I sigh, closing my eyes and resting my head on the wooden wall. "You've been lied to your whole life."

She's been told the same thing I was, most likely by her parents, her teachers, everyone. The only difference is that I never listened. But she did.

Sad.

It's sad.

"I haven't been lied to," Kenny protests. "I've just been taught a harsh truth. I'm not saying that like my value rests in the hands of other people, but it attributes to it and sometimes takes away from it. It's life, Oliver. It's the reality of our world. It's naive to think that other people's opinions don't matter."

"Our world?" I ask, opening my eyes. "What world is that, Kenny? The world of Chanel, champagne, and caviar? There's only one world and you're not going to be able to enjoy it unless you stop caring about what other people think."

"You just don't get it." She expels an incredulous scoff. "I don't have the luxury of not caring, Oliver. I have a plan for my future. It's a plan that I've had since I was five years old. And the success of that plan rests on my image. Because no matter how many accolades I earn, or how high my GPA is, if my image is tarnished, that's all people will remember. That's all they'll care about. If Corrine's dad didn't make that whole mess go away and the newspapers got wind of the story, do you think Harvard would admit me? No. Because I would be bad for their image."

"Jesus, Kennedy," I say, shaking my head. "You're seventeen, don't you think you're putting a bit too much pressure on yourself? It's just college. If Harvard doesn't want you, go to a different school. Or say fuck it, like me, and don't go to college at all."

Kenny blinks. "You're not going to college?" she asks, her voice rising, immediately wincing when she realizes where we are. "Sorry- but what? Are you serious? You have to go to college. Everyone goes to college." She pauses, glaring at me with uncertainty. "Your parents aren't making you go? Seriously?"

She is so fucking high strung.

"They haven't mentioned it so no, I don't think they are," I reply with a chuckle. They're probably grateful I'm finishing high school. "My brother just graduated from Oxford, he's probably going to start working with my father and eventually take over his company so they don't need me."

"Okay...But what do you want to do with your life?" Kenney asks, pursing her lips. "Like after high school. What are your goals? Career aspirations?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't know."

She draws near me, her amber eyes flickering across my face in disbelief. "You don't know? We're Seniors, Ollie! How do you not know?!"

"Well, what do you want to do?" I ask, deflecting the questions. "What are your career aspirations? Hmm?"

Kennedy straightens out her shoulders, a proud smile on her face. "I want to be a US Senator."

"A senator?" I snort. How ambitious. "Really? Why?"

"Because I want to help people," she says matter-of-factly as I pull out my phone to do a little research. "And by being a senator I'll have enough power to enact real change. My dad and I have it all figured out. I'll go to Harvard and get my degree in Government with a specialty in public policy, then I'll go on to get my law degree then I'll work as a lawyer for a few years, maybe help run a few political campaigns, and then when I've gained enough experience I'll run for Senate. "

Holy shit. She's insane.

"You are aware that the median age for a US Senator is sixty-one, right?" I ask, reading the search result off of Google. "So you're going to have to wait like forty...four years before you can actually help people? That is a long-term plan you've got there."

"Sixty-one?!" Kennedy asks, her eyes bugging out. "Are you serious?" She grabs my phone from my hand and pouts. "Oh shit, I didn't know that."

"I thought you know everything," I tease. "Let's hope Harvard doesn't hear about this conversation. They'd probably ban you for life."

"Shut up," she mutters, crossing her arms defensively. "I'll figure it out."

"Sure-"

A flurry of raindrops patter against the steel roof of the shed. My lips curl up into a smirk as I hop up.

"See? I told you it was going to rain."

"Oh, good job, maybe you can be a meteorologist." She rolls her eyes, pushing herself upright and peeking through the splintering wood. "They're leaving." She gently creaks open the door, poking her head out. "Okay, I think it's clear." She dashes out of the shed, looking back at me. "Let's go!"

We run through the rain towards the Triumph, Kennedy leading the charge. When she rounds the corner outside the gate, she slips on a muddy patch of dirt, landing on her ass.

"Fuck!" she whines, writhing on the grass. "Oh my God, I'm covered in mud!" I let out a roaring laugh and she snaps her darkened gaze towards me. "Stop fucking laughing!"

I press my lips into a thin line, pulling out my cell phone and opening the camera. "Smile, Kennedy," I coo, capturing a few shots of her rolling around, trying to stand up. "Need a hand?"

"Fuck off!" she whimpers, her feet sliding on the mud as she finally manages to get up. "My pants are ruined! Oh my God...so gross."

"Yeah, you can't get on the Triumph looking like that," I note, striding towards her, light rain pouring down on us. "You're too dirty."

"Seriously?" she hisses. "What do you want me to do?"

"I mean, you could always take your pants off," I smirk, passing her the helmet. "That's an option."

"In your dreams, Oliver!" Her eyes harden as she pulls the helmet over her head aggressively and swings her legs over the bike. "Let's go. I'm done with the outdoors."

I expel a laugh, shaking my head. "You're going to have to clean the seat after, yeah?"

"Whatever," she grunts, wrapping her arms around my waist as I straddle the bike. "Just go. I can feel the mud seeping through my pants."

"Lucky mud," I mutter as I start the engine.

This time Kennedy is silent during the ride, not a word escapes her pink lips as we weave through mid-afternoon traffic. It takes us longer to get back to campus due to the poor road conditions but I don't mind.

"Sorry about the mud," Kenny whispers, handing me back the helmet, her eyes scanning the leather seat. "I'll clean it up after I change, I promise."

"It's fine," I say, wiping away the moisture off my face. "It's just a little dirt."

Kenny nods, biting her lip. "Still, I'll clean it."

"If you want to," I shrug. "Up to you."

"Okay," she says, pursing her lips. "Well, I guess I'll see you around?"

My phone vibrates and I read a text message from Veronica, my granddad's secretary. Shit. I forgot about the damn fundraiser. "Kennedy?" I ask, swallowing away a lump in my throat. "Do you uh- what are you doing next Friday?"

"Friday?" she asks, taken aback. "I don't um..I don't think I'm doing anything...why?"

"Do you want to go to a fundraiser with me?" I ask, attempting to sound as casual as possible. "My Granddad, he's throwing one for Malcolm Redford...you know, Sawyer's father. Apparently, he's running for congress or some shit. I have to go but I thought maybe-"

"Sawyer's dad is running for congress? What? Really? Wow." She pauses, taking a second to mull over the invitation as I stand there looking like a fool. In a cautious tone, she asks, "You want me to go with you? As what? Like your...date?"

I clear my throat. "Well, we are dating, are we not? So yes, I guess as my... date."

"Oh, right," she says, nodding. "'Cause of our...thing. Okay, yeah. Sure, umm, I'll go with you."

"Excellent," I state. "I think it's only fair, right?"

"Mhmm," Kenny hums, eyeing me warily. "Only fair."

"Good," I say, replying to Veronica's text message, stating that I will be bringing a friend. "I'll see you later then, yeah?"

"Mmkay," she sings. "See you."

"Bye." I suck in a sharp breath as I turn on my heel.

This is good. This will show Granddad that I'm adjusting to my new life. That I'm staying out of trouble. He'll surely pass the news along to my parents.

Kennedy's a parental wet dream.

Yes.

Perfect.

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Hi friends! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

THOUGHTS???

Kenny over here always falling. Same energy: