Men are, and I cannot stress this enough, complete and utter assholes. I don’t care if he’s the sweetest, most thoughtful guy in the world. I guarantee he’s still an asshole. Or he has some hidden asshole tendencies. Maybe he once told his girlfriend that she shouldn’t wear that dress, or that her hair looked better long. Whatever it is, even if it’s the tiniest thing, it makes him an asshole. And I hate him for it. I wasn’t always this bitter. Two weeks ago, I thought love was… well, worth something. I thought men were worth something. I even had my version of the perfect guy—_Trey Parker_. Tall, handsome, smart, charming. The kind of guy who opens doors and knows how to make your mom like him. We’d been dating for nearly a year, and before the summer ended, before we were set to start our junior year at _==Riverton== University_, I decided it was time. Time to finally take the plunge. I was going to give him my virginity. And I guess the sex was… fine. I mean, I don’t have a lot to compare it to. His… thing went inside me, and he had an orgasm. I felt warm in places I hadn’t felt warm before. So yeah, all things considered, it wasn’t bad. Not mind-blowing, but it was… sex. But here’s the kicker. One week later—just one week after I gave him something I thought was special—turns out he’s been giving it to three other bitches; that i know of. Then when I text him we should talk. he disappears. Not a dramatic breakup or a big fight. No, he just _left_. No explanation, no closure, not even a proper goodbye. His texts got shorter and shorter, then stopped altogether. I was stunned. Numb, even. Trey was supposed to be my safe space, the guy who’d be there through thick and thin. And he dumped me like I was a casual fling, like I was the problem. Just before our big university year was about to start, it was like it was nothing.And maybe I was naive, thinking a guy like Trey wouldn’t do what all the other rich jerks around here probably do—use people, then toss them aside So yeah, I’m bitter. I packed my bags, left home behind, and now I’m here, at ==Riverton== University, with the rest of the entitled jerks. Ready to start my junior year. I got here because I worked my ass off, but I’m sure they all think I’m just another Prescott—a trust fund kid who cruised in on her family name. I lean my head against the cold glass of the car window as the driver pulls into the gates of ==Riverton==. The sprawling ivy-covered buildings come into view, like something straight out of a movie. The kind of place that radiates privilege. The kind of place I’ve been trying to distance myself from for as long as I can remember. But no matter how far I try to run, the Prescott name follows me, like an invisible stamp on my forehead. My phone buzzes in my lap, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a text from my mom. **Don’t forget about the dinner at the Hawthorns next week.** Of course, another event I’m expected to attend. Another night pretending that I care about old family connections and socializing with people who wouldn’t think twice about cutting you down for a status boost. I toss my phone into my bag and lean back in my seat, closing my eyes in an attempt to ward off the weight that’s been pressing on me since the breakup. The last thing I have energy for right now is navigating ==Riverton’s== social minefield— the superficial gossip, the elitist politics, the shallow small talk that comes with being a Prescott. But here I am, whether I’m ready or not. The car slows, and I open my eyes just as we come to a stop in front of the dorms. The driver steps out, and I watch through the window as groups of students flood the campus, reconnecting after summer with laughter and stories. ==Riverton’s== finest. The golden children of old money and endless opportunities, the chosen ones. I’m not naive—I know I’m surrounded by people whose lives are paved with gold. Hell so is mine ut at least I go about it more graceciously. The driver steps out to retrieve my bags, and I push open the door, stepping into the crisp autumn air. I’m barely out of the car when a voice calls my name from across the courtyard. “Lillian! Over here!” I turn to see _Henry_, my closest friend, waving enthusiastically as he makes his way over. He’s grinning ear to ear, all sunshine and easy charm, the complete opposite of how I feel inside right now. But I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of my lips. Henry’s always been that one constant in my life, the one person I can rely on without strings attached. “Hey, stranger,” he says, pulling me into a quick hug. “Miss me?” I laugh, grateful for the distraction. “Not in the slightest.” “Liar,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on? You look like you could use a drink. Or five.” I roll my eyes. “It’s been a long couple of weeks.” “You can tell me all about it later.” “Deal.” I offer him a small smile. Henry always knows how to lift my mood, and right now, that’s what I need. As we catch up, my gaze wanders across the courtyard—and that’s when I see him. Standing near the fountain, surrounded by a small group of admirers, _Alexander Hawthorne_. The newest king of ==Riverton== himself, heir to one of the wealthiest families in the country, wearing that arrogant smirk like a second skin. His entourage hovers around him, captivated by his every word. Alexander, heir to the sprawling Hawthorne empire, the guy who probably hasn’t heard the word “no” in his entire life. And of course, our families are friends an unspoken bond formed by generations of wealth and power. He catches my eye for a split second, his gaze flickering with something that feels like disinterest or, worse, judgment. It’s as if he’s already classified me as just another Prescott—a carbon copy of the rest of the ==Riverton== elite. Disposable. Predictable. All one in the same. He looks away first, turning back to his entourage with a smirk that twists something deep in my chest. Great. Just what I needed another arrogant, entitled guy who thinks the world revolves around him. “Let me guess,” Henry says, following my line of sight. “Hawthorne?” I nod, my lips pressing into a thin line. “He’s harmless, you know. Annoying as hell, sure, but mostly harmless.” “Sure,” I mutter, “if by harmless you mean insufferable.” Henry chuckles. “Fair point. But don’t let him get to you. He’s just another ==overhyped== ==Riverton== legacy.” “Easier said than done.” I sigh, grabbing my suitcase and heading toward the dorm. “I didn’t come back here to get dragged into their games. I have bigger things to worry about.” Henry follows beside me, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve seemed… off” I hesitate, biting my lip. I haven’t told him about Trey. About the breakup, the ghosting, or how it’s been gnawing at me ever since. But the words sit heavy on my tongue, unwilling to come out. “I’ll be fine,” I say instead. “Just a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Henry eyes me skeptically but doesn’t press further. “Alright. But if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.” “I know,” I say, offering him a small smile. “Thanks, Henry.” We reach the entrance to my dorm, and Henry gives me a quick, reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading off to his building. I watch him disappear into the crowd, feeling a strange sense of relief. At least with Henry, I don’t have to pretend. But as I drag my suitcase up the steps and push open the heavy door, a different kind of weight settles on my shoulders. The whispers, the judgment, the constant scrutiny—it’s all waiting for me inside. I’m here to prove that I belong. Not because I’m a Prescott, but because I earned my place. Still, as I make my way down the familiar halls, everything seems different.