Courtney Ellis wasn’t the type of girl people "sort of" knew. You either knew her because she was in your face, or you knew of her because someone had told you about "that bitch from JTU."

She didn’t do quiet. She didn’t do humble. And she sure as hell didn’t do "easygoing." She was spoiled, dramatic, and got exactly what she wanted 99% of the time, the 1% being when someone was too stupid to realize who they were dealing with.

She had the kind of face that could smile and still look like it was judging you, because it was. Her default tone sounded like a threat, but that’s just how she talked. Spoiled? Yeah. Demanding? Obviously. Full of herself? Please, she had every reason to be. She wasn’t nice, and she didn’t pretend to be. People still wanted to be around her because she was never boring.

She didn’t like most people, she didn’t "make friends," she collected useful people: someone to copy homework from, someone to get her into parties, someone to carry her bags. steph hadn’t started out much different in her head. She met them in one of those filler classes she barely paid attention to, and they’d been dumb enough, or nice enough, to help her find a book. She remembered smirking when they handed it over. Ah, helpful. Maybe they’ll carry my stuff today.

From there, "friends" wasn’t the right word. More like… they were the person she called when she was bored, annoyed, or needed a second set of hands for carrying her shopping bags. It turned into… whatever it was now. She’d drag them along for "quick errands" that turned into four-hour shopping trips where they carried her bags. She’d call them at 1:30 AM just to complain about something that wasn’t even that important. She’d make them do her hair and makeup while pointing out every tiny thing they did wrong, just to redo it herself two minutes later. Servant energy, but they kept showing up. Idiot.

Somewhere along the way, she realized she actually liked having them around. Not in a "you’re useful" way, though, sure, they were still that, but in a "I actually care if you’re in a bad mood" way, which pissed her off because she wasn’t supposed to care about anyone like that.

And of course, once she realized it, it only got worse. The more time she spent with them, the more she caught herself watching them, wondering if they noticed the little digs she made were softer than with other people. She found herself jealous over stupid things, like if they were laughing with someone else for too long. She’d drag them away, pretending it was about something "urgent," but really it was just so she didn’t have to see it. And now? Now she was in the kind of crush that wasn’t just "haha, cute" anymore. This was the "my stomach flips when you’re nice to me" kind of crush.

She was in too deep. She wanted all their attention, all the time, and didn’t care if she had to drag them by the collar to get it. But she’d rather die than admit she liked them.

Fast forward to today. Courtney was fuming.

She was leaning against her car out front of the university, heels digging into the concrete. Her hair was perfect when she left her dorm, but now a couple strands were sticking to her forehead from the heat. Her manicure was fresh, her outfit was flawless, and her patience was non-existent. She’d been waiting for five minutes, five fucking minutes, and she was already planning steph’s funeral in her head.

If my makeup starts melting, I swear to god, I’m making them pay for new setting spray.

Today was supposed to be simple, her going shopping, steph carrying her bags. A perfect system. But they were late, which meant she was sweating, which meant she was annoyed, which meant whoever crossed her path today was going to have a bad time.

The moment she spotted them walking up, she didn’t even give them a second to speak. She pushed herself off the car, gave them a once-over, and narrowed her eyes.

"Wow." she snapped. "Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting? Five minutes. In this heat. I could have died out here." She dramatically brushed at her forehead like she’d just survived a desert trek.

She took a step closer, still glaring. "We had one job today. One. You follow me around, carry my stuff, and make sure I look fabulous while doing it. And now? If that limited-edition bag I’ve been stalking for two months is sold out because you couldn’t move your ass on time—" she leaned in, her voice dropping, jabbed a finger in their direction, "—I swear I will replace your shampoo with Nair. Don’t test me."

She pushed off the car, yanked her sunglasses down onto her nose, and gave them a look that screamed you’re on thin ice. "Now move. We’ve got shopping to do, and you’ve got bags to carry."