BRIANNA

6. I WILL HANDLE MY MOTHER

JC'S POV

"Hi, Noah." I couldn't hide the grin from my face at that. I guess Kyle has another thing to do and that is to tell his twin sister that his best friend is off-limits because I don't think she understands that.

There was a certain softness in Lyla's voice when she greeted Noah, a warmth that wasn't there when she spoke to the rest of us. It was subtle, but it was there, and it made me wonder just how much she knew about Noah's long-standing crush.

That redness on her face is the proof of that. I don't think I've seen any girl blush more than Lyla does when she sees Noah. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she looked away quickly, as if embarrassed by the attention.

It was almost too perfect, like something out of a cheesy romance movie, but it was happening right in front of us. The tension between them was palpable, and it made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something there worth exploring.

"Me and the guys are having a party tonight; you can all come join us if you want to." f**k you, Callum! Did he really have to invite them? Callum's invitation was casual, but I could see the mischief in his eyes.

He knew exactly what he was doing, stirring the pot just to see what would happen. Bringing the girls into the mix was only going to complicate things, especially with the delicate dynamics at play between Noah and Lyla.

The last thing we needed was to throw them into a situation where their feelings—or lack thereof—could get out of hand.

But Callum thrived on chaos; he loved watching things unfold in unpredictable ways. It was part of his charm, but right now, it was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

"Why are we talking about a party? I actually wanted to ask Leah for a favor." Kyle's sudden change of subject was unexpected, but I could see the slight shift in his expression as he mentioned Leah. I knew it. This boy hates school.

Kyle rarely asked for favors, and when he did, it usually involved something to do with his disdain for the rigid structure of our academic life.

Leah was an unlikely ally, but she believed herself to be in love with Kyle, and she would do anything for him. And it's Kyle who is asking for a favor.

Leah's crush on Kyle was an open secret, known to anyone who paid even the slightest bit of attention. She was cold, calculating, and often downright cruel, but when it came to Kyle, she was like putty in his hands.

It was almost laughable, the way she softened around him, her sharp edges blunted by her feelings. Kyle, for his part, seemed oblivious—or at least, he pretended to be.

He never reciprocated her feelings, but he wasn't above leveraging them when it suited him. And as much as I disliked Leah, I couldn't deny that her willingness to do anything for Kyle had its advantages.

Whether it was skipping out on a tedious assignment or getting access to something off-limits, Leah could usually make it happen, all in the hopes of earning Kyle's favor.

It was a precarious balance, one that I hoped wouldn't tip over tonight, especially with the added complication of the party.

"If it's for you, Kyle, I can do anything. You just have to say it and it will be done." Leah's voice had that particular tone she used whenever she was around Kyle—a mix of eagerness and reverence that made her sound almost like a devotee pledging allegiance to a deity.

Her eyes were wide and earnest, practically gleaming with anticipation. It was unsettling how quickly she could switch from her usual icy demeanor to this soft, pliable version of herself, all for Kyle's sake.

There was no denying her devotion, but it was that very intensity that made me uneasy. Leah's willingness to do anything for Kyle bordered on obsession, and while it was beneficial at times, it also felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

The whole scenario had the makings of a bad rom-com, but with real stakes and real consequences. It was the kind of devotion that could easily spiral out of control if not handled carefully.

"I wanna go somewhere right now, but your mom has been telling my father that I skip classes almost every day. My dad doesn't really care that I do, but my mom is another story; if she hears it, I'm finished." Kyle's casual tone belied the seriousness of the situation.

His request seemed innocent enough on the surface, just another one of his usual antics to get out of class. But there was an underlying tension in his voice that betrayed his concern.

It wasn't his father he was worried about; it was his mother. While his dad might turn a blind eye to his antics, his mom was a different story entirely.

She had a way of laying down the law that was both firm and unyielding, and the prospect of her finding out about his truancy was enough to make Kyle tread carefully.

It was a rare glimpse of vulnerability from him, a reminder that even the most carefree among us had their own pressures and expectations to contend with.

"So you want me to cover up for you?" Leah's question was rhetorical; she knew exactly what Kyle was asking. Her willingness to go along with it was never in doubt, and I could see the wheels turning in her head as she considered the best way to approach the situation.

Her mother, the headmistress, was a formidable woman, but Leah had a unique leverage—she was her mother's daughter, after all.

They had a complicated relationship, but there was no denying the special bond they shared. Leah's mother doted on her, perhaps more than she did on anyone else, and Leah knew how to play that to her advantage.

It was almost admirable, in a twisted sort of way, how adept she was at manipulating situations to suit her needs. It was a skill she'd honed over years of being the headmistress's daughter, constantly under scrutiny yet somehow always finding a way to skirt the rules.

"Not exactly, just tell her that I had to go somewhere really important. She's your mother; we all know how much she loves you and would do anything for you." Kyle's request was simple yet loaded with implications.

It wasn't just about skipping a couple of classes; it was about leveraging Leah's position and her relationship with her mother to cover his tracks. It was a risky move, but Kyle seemed confident that Leah could handle it.

The casual way he brushed off the potential consequences was typical of him, always underestimating the gravity of the situation.

Yet, there was an underlying trust in Leah's ability to navigate these waters, a trust that, frankly, baffled me. Kyle had a way of charming people into doing his bidding, and Leah was no exception. But this time, it felt different.

There was a sense of inevitability, like a train speeding toward a collision. The question was, who would bear the brunt of the impact?

"I guess skipping two classes wouldn't hurt. You don't have to worry; I'll handle my mom, but you have to make it up to me." I hate where this is going.

Leah's voice was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it that set off alarm bells in my head. The way she said "make it up to me" was ominous, like a trap being set.

She had Kyle right where she wanted him, indebted to her for a favor that would undoubtedly come with strings attached. Leah wasn't the type to do something for nothing, especially not when it came to Kyle.

Her request, whatever it would be, was sure to complicate things. The power dynamic had shifted subtly, and I could see the calculation in her eyes. She knew she had the upper hand, and she intended to use it.

The uncertainty of what she might ask for in return made my stomach churn. Kyle had walked into this without a second thought, but I had a sinking feeling that he was in way over his head.

"Whatever you want, just tell me when I get back." He didn't even wait for us; he just left. Both Noah and Callum looked at me with the same expression that I am very sure I was wearing—disbelief mixed with a tinge of concern.

What have you gotten yourself into, Kyle? Did he really have to promise her anything? The air was thick with unspoken words, each of us processing the situation in our own way.

Kyle's nonchalance was maddening; he acted as if he'd just asked for a simple favor, not realizing—or perhaps not caring—about the potential fallout.

Leah watched him go with a satisfied smile, the kind that made my skin crawl. It was as if she had won some sort of victory, and in a way, she had.

She had Kyle in her debt, a position that gave her a disturbing amount of control over him. The thought of what she might ask for in return lingered in the back of my mind, an unwelcome guest that refused to leave.

"You guys can go too if you want; I will handle my mother, so you don't have to worry about getting into trouble." Leah's offer hung in the air like a tempting fruit just within reach, her voice filled with a confidence that was almost disconcerting.

She made it sound so easy, so effortlessly simple, as if defying the school's rules and her mother's strict watch were trivial matters. Her casual tone belied the gravity of the situation; she was asking us to trust her with our reputations, our futures, and the fragile line we walked as students under constant scrutiny.

It was a bold offer, the kind that suggested a level of power and control most of us couldn't even dream of having. Leah's assurance that she could handle her mother was meant to be comforting, a guarantee of safety from any repercussions.

But for me, it was anything but. It felt more like stepping into a spider's web, with Leah at the center, ready to pull the strings at her whim.

This is a golden opportunity; I know it very well, but I can't take the risk. What if things go south? The thought gnawed at me, a persistent worry that I couldn't shake.

Leah might be confident in her ability to smooth things over with her mother, but my situation was different. Her mother had always had it out for me, for reasons I could never fully understand.

Maybe it was because I was the son of the school's owner, and she resented the influence that came with it. Or perhaps it was the rumors that constantly swirled around me, painting me as a troublemaker, a bad influence.

Whatever the reason, she seemed to take a particular pleasure in catching me out, in finding reasons to report me to my father.

And my father, well, he had his own expectations. He tolerated my antics to a degree, understanding that I needed some freedom, some space to grow.

But there were limits, and being reported by the headmistress for skipping classes would cross a line he had clearly drawn. It would be an embarrassment, not just for me but for our entire family, and that was a burden I couldn't afford to bear.

"I appreciate it, but I know your mother, Leah. She hates me, and as soon as she learns that I left, she would definitely call my father at that moment." The words came out more forcefully than I intended, a mix of frustration and resignation.

It wasn't just about the fear of getting caught; it was the inevitable consequences that followed. The headmistress is known for her strictness, her unwavering adherence to the rules, and her deep-seated dislike for those who broke them.

She saw herself as the guardian of the school's integrity, and any deviation from the norm was met with swift and severe punishment.

Leah might be able to talk her way out of trouble, might be able to convince her mother that it was all a misunderstanding, but I wouldn't have that luxury.

The headmistress would relish the chance to call my father, to report that his son had once again stepped out of line.

And my father, with his emphasis on family reputation and honor, would be livid. He would see it as a personal failure, a sign that he had not instilled the proper values in me. The thought of that conversation, of the disappointment and anger in his voice, was enough to make me shudder.

"By the time you explain things to her, it would be too late already, and I can't take that risk." The finality of my words hung in the air, a clear boundary that I couldn't cross.

The risk was too great, the potential fallout too severe. I could see the disappointment flicker across Leah's face, quickly masked by a casual shrug.

She was used to getting her way, used to bending the rules to suit her needs, and my refusal was likely a rare occurrence for her. But she didn't push further, didn't try to convince me otherwise.

Perhaps she understood, in her own way, the precarious position I was in. Or maybe she simply didn't care enough to argue. Either way, the decision was made.

As much as the idea of ditching the last two classes and having some freedom appealed to me, the consequences weren't worth it.