Layla Evans kept glaring at Reed Franklin, thinking, What’s the big deal about playing basketball? Does it really make him this cocky? Reed, however, wasn’t one to back down either. His glare was as sharp as hers, and the two locked eyes in a silent battle, exchanging metaphorical eye-daggers in an intense staring contest that seemed to last three hundred rounds. Meanwhile, whatever Jocelyn Shawn was saying at the front of the room was entirely lost on the two.

Finally, the class ended. Layla nudged Reed’s shoulder. “Hey, move!”

“Nope.” Reed smirked with a smug look, eyes full of mischief.

Layla's patience was wearing thin. After scarfing down a spicy bowl of noodles earlier, followed by too many cold drinks, she really needed to use the bathroom. But with Reed blocking her way on the left and the wall on her right, she was trapped. Seeing no other option, she decided to climb over the desk, since she was in the front row anyway.

“Humph!” She shot him a scornful look as she hopped over the desk and dashed off to the restroom.

“Finally!” Layla sighed in relief after finishing her business. As she washed her hands, she took a moment to appreciate the restroom's opulence. The faucet handles were gold-plated, embedded with sapphires—so extravagant it left her stunned.

When she extended her hand, the water flowed out automatically, and the soap dispenser, covered in foreign lettering she couldn’t read, emitted a delicate fragrance. The soap felt smooth, and Layla figured it must be something incredibly expensive.

Returning to the classroom, Layla didn’t even bother asking Reed to move. With the same boldness, she hopped over the desk again, sliding effortlessly into her seat.

Reed raised an eyebrow and sneered. “What are you, a monkey? Jumping around like that... where’s your feminine grace?”

Layla shot back immediately. “What about you, huh? A pig? Sitting there like a rock... Aren’t boys supposed to have some energy?”

That jab hit Reed right where it hurt. As a star athlete and top basketball player, being compared to a lazy pig was the ultimate insult. His face flushed with frustration, and his fists clenched involuntarily.

“Oh? What’s wrong? Wanna hit me? Can’t handle a little teasing?” Layla tilted her head mockingly, watching Reed's clenched fists with a smirk. Though it seemed like he was on the verge of exploding, Reed managed to hold himself back.

Before he could respond, Jocelyn Shawn re-entered the room, saving him from further embarrassment.

“Alright, now that we’ve gone over the school rules and the layout of the new campus, it’s time for introductions,” Jocelyn announced, standing at the front of the classroom. “Since we’re all in the same class now, but most of us don’t know each other, let’s have everyone come up to the front and introduce yourselves. This will help us all get acquainted.”

Jocelyn Shawn scanned the classroom and pointed in Layla and Reed’s direction. “Let’s start with this side, shall we?”

Reed Franklin was up first. Standing at six-foot-three, his towering presence immediately caused a stir among the girls in the room, who began whispering to each other.

“My name’s Reed Franklin, I’m eighteen. I studied in Aurelia Bay before, but since my language sucks, my parents sent me here to brush up on the language. I love basketball, and my idol is Michael Jordan. I’m currently single and looking for a girlfriend who also loves basketball and is sweet and cute. Here’s my phone number.” With that, he scribbled his name and number on the whiteboard in messy handwriting.

“Ugly,” Layla muttered under her breath, wrinkling her nose in disdain at his sloppy handwriting. But a few girls in the class were already saving the number of the tall, single, basketball-loving guy.

Reed returned to his seat, looking pleased with himself, and it was now Layla’s turn. Surprisingly, Reed didn’t give her a hard time this time and moved aside to let her pass.

A little nervous but doing her best to remain composed, Layla introduced herself. “Hi, everyone. I’m Layla Evans. I’m looking forward to being your classmate, so let’s take care of each other please.”

Her introduction was brief and to the point, a stark contrast to Reed’s somewhat exaggerated speech, which had felt more like a dating ad.

“What’s your phone number? Write it down!”

“Layla, do you have a boyfriend?”

The playful teasing from the class made Layla feel uncomfortable, and Reed chimed in loudly, “Layla’s like a wild monkey—who’d want to date her?”

Laughter erupted, and Layla’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Alright, that’s enough. Layla, we’ll remember you. You can take your seat,” Jocelyn intervened, allowing Layla to escape the spotlight. As she headed back to her seat, she “accidentally” stepped hard on Reed’s foot, smudging his precious Jordan sneakers.

“Hey, you—” Reed started to protest, but Layla cut him off in a low voice, “What? You deserved it!”

Though most students probably forgot most of the introductions by the end of the class, Layla would certainly never forget Reed, and Reed would definitely remember her.

After the introductions, Jocelyn Shawn handed out book cards and class schedules to each student. Everyone was required to pick up their textbooks from their department's office in the afternoon, and official classes would start the next day. With so many students, each class had a different time slot to collect their books, and Layla’s class was scheduled for the third period. Once they got their books, they were free for the rest of the day.

Layla had thought it would be a straightforward task, but she was shocked to discover that the Chinese department had issued more than twenty textbooks. With only a small crossbody bag, there was no way she could carry them all. Using just her hands? Impossible.

Glancing around, she noticed that the boys didn’t seem to have much trouble, while the girls, though struggling, had boyfriends or hired help assisting them. Layla sighed and quickly jogged off to find the janitor, returning with four large trash bags. Once she stacked the books into the bags, they were sturdy enough, but the weight was still overwhelming as she struggled toward the school gate.

Layla couldn’t stay in the dorms—Trevor Moore wouldn’t allow it—so she had to lug all of the books home. It was backbreaking work.

Dervay Saints Academy was Avalon’s most prestigious university, filled with the sons and daughters of the elite, all living in luxury. Compared to them, Layla, in her casual outfit and hauling books in trash bags, stood out like a sore thumb.

“Hello, Layla Evans! Or should I say Layla the little monkey, scavenging for trash? No wait, you’re more like Layla the trash yourself, aren’t you?” Reed Franklin taunted her as he bounced a basketball near her. He hadn’t bothered to pick up his own books, instead hiring a school worker to do it for him.

As Reed dribbled the ball, he tossed it, hitting Layla square on the forehead. The impact threw her off balance, causing her to stumble and fall, while her trash bags burst open, scattering books across the ground.

“You idiot! Ugly fool, I knew you didn’t have a boyfriend to help you carry those books,” Reed jeered, dribbling the ball around her as she struggled to pick up the scattered books.

“You’re so slow, little turtle. How many years will it take you to get those books home? I bet I could finish an entire game of basketball before you even make it out of campus,” Reed taunted before whistling his way to the basketball court.

“You’re the turtle! You’re a stupid, annoying jerk!” Layla yelled at his retreating figure, but her words only earned her more mocking stares from a group of passing girls who laughed at her disheveled appearance.

Layla Evans ignored the snickers around her and quietly gathered her scattered books. Suddenly, a hand holding a copy of Rhetoric appeared before her. The fingers were long and graceful, holding the book in an almost elegant way.“Do you need help?”

"Need some help?" a voice asked.

Layla looked up, and to her surprise, there was Zion Oren again.

"Zion, thank you, but I can manage on my own," Layla replied, taking the book and putting it back in the trash bag.

Zion smiled softly and began helping her gather the remaining books. He effortlessly picked up the trash bag full of books. "I think it would be easier if I helped," he said.

Layla knew it would be rude to refuse further, so she nodded. "Thank you.”

"Why not leave your books in the dorm?" Zion asked, his voice deep and magnetic, pleasant to hear.

"I’m a day student. The dorm is just for naps between classes. It’s easier to have my books at home," Layla explained. As she said this, the image of Trevor Moore's stern face flashed in her mind, reminding her to stay far away from any handsome guys who might get her into trouble.

"Oh, I see! Where do you live? I could give you a ride," Zion offered casually, but Layla’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. If Trevor found out, he would definitely lose it.

"No need for that! Just walking me to the school gate is more than enough. I’ll grab a taxi from there," Layla quickly responded, not daring to let someone like Zion escort her home.

"Alright then," Zion agreed, still as calm and considerate as ever, sensing that Layla didn’t want him to go any further.

He accompanied her to the school gate and waited with her for a taxi. "Your name is Layla Evans, right?”

"Yes, Zion. You're famous around campus, so of course everyone knows you. But I’m just a regular freshman. How do you know my name?" Layla asked curiously.

"At Dervay Saints, there's very little I don’t know," Zion said, his tone slightly assertive yet accompanied by a warm, gentle smile.

"Layla, I’m the president of the FLY Dance Club. I think you’ve got the potential, so as the president, I’m inviting you to join. If you’re interested, you can sign up by next Tuesday after school. Here’s the invitation card with the club’s address," Zion said, handing her a small card.

Layla was about to decline, but Zion spoke before she could. "Take your time to think it over," he said with a smile.

"Oh, okay," Layla mumbled, accepting the card. "Zion, my taxi is here. I should get going.”

"Take care," Zion said as he helped her load the books into the taxi. He waved goodbye as Layla got in.

"Bye, Zion! You should get some rest too!" Layla called from the taxi, giving him a cheerful, sunny smile before the car pulled away.

As the taxi drove off, Layla glanced down at the FLY Dance Club invitation. She really wanted to join. She had always loved dancing and had even been part of the arts committee in high school. 

Layla excelled in everything except academics—it was just her luck.

However, no matter how much she wanted to join, would her controlling husband allow it?