Dread is a funny feeling.

It was characterised by a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, a nervous flutter of my hands, the slight shaking on my body and a tremble in my knees. I was unique in that this dread also surfaced some pretty intense anger, because the only reason I was dreading this class was because I had clearly been dropped on my head as a baby, or I would never have made the decision to kiss Jace Hartley, a decision that had landed me squarely in this predicament.

I had never dreaded English with the level of intense burning passion as I did today. As a regular loather of Maths, I usually stared at the clock above my teacher's head demanding the hands to hop to it and move with some alacrity, as if I were Matilda. The last Maths class, I was ready to contact Dr Strange to negotiate a time loop so that the class never ended.

Unfortunately, I didn't seem to have his number.

I stared at the doorway to the English classroom with trepidation. Hartley was a totally lame nerd, and I had no doubts he was already in class, sitting in his new seat by my side.

"Uh, are you going to go in?" said Kaelin. She was trapped behind me, my schoolbag and crutches blocking her entrance to the room. Thankfully, I no longer needed the crutches at home, or all the time, but I'd realised the long school day led to an achy side and sore legs. "Or is this a hall party. Because I forgot to bring snacks."

"I had a thought. Would you like to break my other leg? I'm craving hospital food."

"Said no one ever. Should I be taking you to the hospital for brain damage?"

"Yes! Let's do that."

Kaelin quirked an eyebrow. "You're weird."

Oh, coming from. "So weird. Definitely need the hospital, I don't know what is up with my head today."

"How about you hop your way into class and if you're still—" she gestured at me vaguely "—this afterward, I'll... call an exorcist or something."

I sighed. It didn't seem that cutting class was going to happen today. Besides, I was relatively convinced that Mr. Prendler had spied us through the door and was vaguely concerned about our loitering already. With hesitation and what felt like squirming eels writhing in my stomach, I pulled the classroom door open and marched—well, hopped, but I liked to manifest confidence—into the classroom.

Jace was sitting in his usual spot, the desk right next to mine, chatting to Holland Rivers in front. The big windows in the side of the classroom lit the halo of gold in his dark hair and illuminated the golden hue of his skin. It was horrific, the way light conspired against me and continuously forced me to acknowledge that Jace Hartley was, quite frankly, stunning. But so was Lucifer, before God cast him from heaven.

And what drugs had Hartley slipped me when I agreed to be his friend?

But I refused to be the one that couldn't hack it in this faux friendship we had struck up. I mean, if we started fighting again, would we have to be forced to fight for custody of Daria? Because, I had to admit, Daria would pick Jace in every lifetime. And I couldn't afford to lose Daria; she was objectively the best.

When I moved closer to my seat, Jace looked up and smiled. I couldn't help but smile back—fake, not real, for Daria, can't lose—and wave sunnily. His eyes were liquid gold as their gaze took a languished stroll over the edges of my form.

I tore my eyes away, because it was a peruse that betrayed everything that had happened between us. When I chanced a look back, I saw that Jace's lips were quirked into a knowing smile.

Holland rolled her eyes. "I can't keep up with you guys, honestly. I can't tell if your made-for-TV movie would be rated R for sex and nudity or gratuitous violence."

"I love that I can always count on you to have a candid and unique take on things," McKenna, who sat to Holland's right, said. "I would want you to commentate their made-for-TV movie."

Holland put on a mock-serious expression and held a fake microphone to her lips. "Lena Montez is a comedic genius with a big heart and a bigger wallet. Jace Hartley is a love-struck idiot who seems to get a boner for Lena's penchant for hating him. Join us on their journey. Out September 3rd."

Jace shrugged. "I'd watch that movie."

I slid into the seat behind Holland; Kaelin took the next seat behind McKenna.

"Hartley and I are trying the whole friendship thing," I said tentatively. When Holland and McKenna's eyes widened, I hastily added, "For the kids, you know. It's not good for Daria to grow up in an angry household. She needs good role models."

Jace laughed, and the sound sent something warm trickling through my gut. I told myself it was poison.

McKenna sat upright and smiled, though it seemed slightly forced. It was hard, I could imagine, to still be in love with the boy who broke your heart. Harder still when, by all reports, it had been fairly amicable and they'd remained friends. It was far easier to get over someone when you loathed them, in my opinion. Although, McKenna could do far worse as a rebound than Brittany Ford.

"I'm really glad you guys are trying the whole friends thing," said McKenna. "It seems overdue."

Holland sniffed as if McKenna had shoved a bag of shit under her nose. "Speak for yourself. Their feuds bring me endless entertainment."

"That's because you thrive on dysfunction," said Kaelin.

"Yeah, exactly. Oh well, I give the friendship maybe an hour. If Prendler doesn't allow talking today. If they can associate? Maybe fifteen minutes."

Jace frowned. "Give me some credit."

Holland hitched a thumb in my direction. "Oh, yeah, because you're the one most likely to get their panties in a twist."

I gaped in offense. "Are you suggesting I'm difficult to work with? Or anything less than a collaborative person with a talent for inviting conversation?"

"Yes," said Kaelin and McKenna in unison.

"Give Lena some credit. It's not like she's an unreasonable, angry monster," said Jace, placing a comforting hand on my arm. It made me want to hit him a little bit. I mean, uh, collaboratively work with him while inviting conversation.

"What he said," I agreed, my teeth gritted in a smile.

"Besides," said Jace. "Lena couldn't keep away from me if she tried."

His smile quirked upwards, smugness effusing itself into the expression. It was a look of knowing, of a shared secret; of friendship that was tied to a secret dalliance I would die to keep locked away. Yet, while I had stifled the knowledge of that kiss deep within my stomach, hidden behind jammed doors and clasped within an icy cage of desperation, Jace had practically tattooed the touch of my lips on his smile.

But I had worn our newfound friendship as a cardigan, the outer layer hiding the shape within. If anyone asked me why Jace and I were acting strange, I could tell them it was due to our strange new friendship. We were not weird around each other because we had kissed; it was because we were friends now. I did not run my eyes over his face, his body, his hands, his eyes; I was staring because I did not recognise this Jace who was my friend.

Jace did not seem to have the same qualms about this secret.

"Yes," I said, though internally I was picturing the jungle scenes from Mean Girls, and I had leapt onto Jace and was tearing his face to shreds. You know, in a friendship kind of way. #besties4life. "Because I am very dedicated to my homies."

Kaelin snorted. "That's not what you said when I asked you to join an NSYNC cover band with me and Alec."

"It's called self-respect, Kaelin."

"Dressing up as JT is the highest form of self-respect out there, Lena."

"You would be the hottest JT going around," said Jace. "I could really see you rocking the curly blonde tip afro style."

I made a face at him. "I know you're mocking me, but you're so right, I would look hot."

Jace smirked at me. "We both know my opinion on the subject."

Holland, McKenna and Kaelin looked between us with blatant curiosity. Holland opened her mouth, but I waved her off carelessly. My expression remained placid—there's nothing to see here—but I was seething.

There is no other girl on the planet like you. Jace's mouth over mine, our bodies flushed, kissing like we were dying or drowning or burning and he was my salvation. Kissing him like I hated him. And I really needed to stop thinking about it. If I'd locked it away in a box, Hartley's smirks were the key. We both know my opinion on the subject.

Jace winked at me. I smiled gracefully back.

Holland's mouth was set in a small o. "The energy between you two is so weird today. I love it."

Kaelin grinned. "It's like Lena's about to throw herself at him. I can't tell if it's to smash him literally or in the euphemism kind of way."

Jace plucked at a longer lock of my hair, playing with the dark curl between his fingers. I resisted the urge to smack him. "What do you mean? This is just friendship."

McKenna hid a secret smile behind her book.

"Your friendship is my foreplay, but okay," said Holland.

At the front of the classroom, Prendler began writing the lesson plan on the board. Thankfully, it didn't appear we were working on our group projects today. It would stop me from screaming.

Jace let go of my hair, the curl falling back down my side. "No group work today, huh."

"Guess so," I replied.

He smiled, and this time, it was sweet. The kind of smile he might bestow upon Daria. "You know, that's kind of a shame. I really do like working with you. We should get together sometime next week. I know you suggested we could do the next part alone, but I think the stuff we produce is much better when I get the chance to hear your thoughts."

The girl's eyed me, waiting apprehensively for my response.

Kaelin grinned at Holland. "Immature, angsty response in 3... 2..."

"You're probably right," I told Hartley. See? I could do the friendship thing. "I really liked some of your ideas, and I think they would be great to compliment my section."

McKenna's eyes widened. "I never thought I'd see it. A real time character growth arc."

Kaelin took a picture of my face.

I shot her a look. "Uh, what?"

She grinned. "I just thought you might want a memento of the first time you reacted reasonably to Jace. It could go in your Lena's Milestones picture folder right next to your first steps."

I ignored her. She pulled a face at me.

"Hey, guys, time to pay attention," called Prendler from the front of the room. "Pull your textbooks out, let's turn to chapter 7."

Hartley turned to me as the rest of the class sorted through their stack of books, pulling the required text from the muddle of workbooks and pencil cases. "I think I preferred the other milestone in our friendship, personally. What do you think?"

Maybe I couldn't do the friendship thing.

What did I think? I thought Hartley was insufferable. I thought Hartley was frustrating. I thought Hartley was impossible to read. One minute, he was asking for my friendship, hesitant and somewhat charming, begging me for a truce. The next, he was smug and conceited, dangling the knowledge of our kiss before me, as if daring me to tell them. To tell everyone what I had asked him to do to me.

I smiled with saccharine sweetness. "I think we make excellent friends. Don't you agree?"

His answering smirk was self-satisfied, languid. Hartley would be my friend, eager and sweet. He would treat me, to the eye of anyone who didn't know what we had done, the same familial, kind way he treated Daria.

But simmering beneath that layer would be something else. A cat-and-mouse game. Playful, in a way. It was a dance set to music we had listened to a hundred times, but the steps were completely different. It was not outright and forward or angry and fiery. It was slow and calculating. It was a Trojan horse; competition in a pretty package of friendship.

Because it seemed that Jace Hartley was far more willing to let our little secret out, and I would do anything to make sure that didn't happen.