“I didn’t realize,” Blythe said frostily, “reviewing a tough math concept after class would be such a concerning issue.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t saying that. I only meant that I thought you would be”—Cole waved his hand in a vague gesture—“celebrating Valentine’s Day with Magnus. It is what you do every year.”

  She supposed she couldn’t hold this assumption against him. The original Blythe had clearly set a precedent for it.

  “It isn’t your business, is it? You’re not Magnus.”

  He inclined his head. “You’re right. It’s not. I’m more curious about your personality transplant, anyway. Why are you speaking like that?”

  “Like what?”

  Although she had an inkling, she didn’t feel like entertaining him.

  “Blythe, you know what.“ The exasperation on his face perfectly matched the tone of his voice. “You never used to talk to me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Blythe!” Despite sounding significantly annoyed this time, Cole managed to keep his voice down. “You know.”

  His fangirls were still roaming around somewhere on this floor. Blythe could hear them.

  She channeled all her irritation into a viciously bright smile. “Maybe I don’t know.”

  Nearly everyone grated on her nerves these days. The discomfort lodged under her skin like a splinter burrowed deeper and deeper with each passing sunrise until she felt like she was wearing someone else’s skin. And in a metaphorical sort of way, she was.

  Everybody treated her like she was the original Blythe, constantly laying out their expectations of the things she was supposed to do or say. Her nerves were frayed.

  Narrowing his bright blue eyes at her, Cole said, “Like we’re buddies. We’ve been acquaintances for years, and I try to be friendly for Magnus’ sake, but you’ve never talked to me like this until the start of this school term.”

  She genuinely didn’t know how the original Blythe used to speak with Cole. Based off the wary looks she’d gotten from the other boys in school, though, she had probably been pretty cold to him too.

  “I apologize if I’ve caused any confusion on your end. I’ll take greater care in the way I speak to you from now on.”

  It wasn’t worth arguing over. She’d just been so mentally fatigued that her usual way of speaking slipped out without her noticing. Instead of making excuses, she was better off improving her sense of awareness. Since he wasn’t Jessica or Sophie, it wouldn’t make much sense trying to say she wanted to speak more informally with him.

  “No, it’s fine,” he said, having the audacity to look startled. “I don’t actually have a problem with it. We’ve known each other since we were kids after all.”

  She wished his admirers would hurry up and move on to the next floor already.

  “Why all the fuss, then?”

  “Well, there’s no delicate way to phrase this, so … I was concerned about the possibility of you having sustained some type of injury to the head at the beginning of the school term.” He looked to the side. “But I suppose that’s also not really my business. I’ve just been rather confused and intrigued.”

  “I’m glad you know that.”

  Anything to get out of having to explain herself.

  To her bewilderment, green light flashed before her.

  She would’ve thought he would be offended by that.

  “Huh,” he said, shuffling around the desks and pressing his ear to the classroom door.

  “What?”

  “Surprised you didn’t tear my head off for suggesting that.” He flashed her a grin. “See, can you really blame me for thinking you might be suffering from a brain injury?”

  Blythe made a face. How low had these people set the bar for her treatment of others?

  His shoulders slumped. “I can still hear them.”

  Backing away from the stacked desks, Blythe headed for where she’d originally been sitting at. She might as well finish reviewing that math concept while she was stuck here.

  As she sat down in front of her textbook, she ignored Cole’s gaze on her. It took her a couple of seconds to get her mind back in the zone, but soon she was absorbed in following along with the example solution Professor Fulbright had provided them.

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  When she felt confident she’d be able to solve the other questions they’d been given as homework, Blythe sighed and stretched her arms. Upon realizing Cole was sitting at the desk beside hers, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  She hadn’t noticed him approaching.

  He was fishing out another piece of chocolate square from the green foil bag she’d given him earlier in the day. He tossed it into the air, where it traveled through a nice little arc before falling into his waiting mouth.

  “Nice catch,” Blythe said with begrudging respect, fighting back the jealousy that was clawing its way into her voice.

  She’d struggled with catching popcorn into her mouth like that her entire life as Mira. The number of times she and Riley had tried it together was ridiculous.

  “Whoa,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Apparently, it’s not just your manner of speech. Even your reactions are different.”

  It took her a couple of seconds to figure out he probably meant that the original Blythe wouldn’t have been impressed by his food-in-mouth toss.

  She tried to change the subject. “Why are you eating those chocolates? Don’t you have a ton of handmade chocolates made with love?”

  Tutting, he said, “Blythe, Blythe. I know you’re not that unaware. I may praise those chocolates for the effort that has been put into making them, but how can they truly compete with the ones made by a multiple award-winning confectioner?”

  She stared at him, willing her brain to comprehend what he was saying.

  “Right,” she said slowly. “Because that’s who my chef is.”

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” The smile faded from his lips as his gaze roamed over her face. “Won’t you consider paying the infirmary a visit? I’m sure Magnus would be happy to accompany you—”

  “I don’t need to see the school physician. I’m fine.”

  She should’ve just kept her mouth shut instead of trying to piece things together aloud. She made a note to do that next time.

  “You were bragging to everyone who would listen after your father hired Chef Wilson as your home chef. Why are you behaving as if it’s the first time you’ve heard of his achievements?”

  “It’s not my first time,” she snapped, keeping her eyes on her textbook now. “I was … spacing out, that’s all.”

  “That doesn’t really explain why you looked at me like I was speaking in Gyueric. I know confusion when I see it.”

  “I was …” Her brain was so tired of the regular overtime it had to work these days. “I was astonished you were diminishing the value of those precious chocolates made out of love for you. I wasn’t confused. If those girls had heard your callous remarks, I doubt you’d get as many chocolates next year.”

  He gaped at her. “I never meant to diminish—”

  “Why don’t you ask those girls how they feel about your preference for obligatory chocolates clinically made in large batches by a professional rather than their one-of-a-kind chocolate made specially for you?”

  “I was speaking purely from an objective perspective!”

  Topic successfully changed.

  With a smirk, Blythe crossed her arms.

  “Uh huh, and objectivity is the most important factor in matters of the heart. Your admirers would be glad to hear that, I’m sure. Why haven’t you told them yet not to bother making you chocolates?”

  “First of all, I resent that remark,” he declared, looking affronted by her question. “I’d never hurt the feelings of all these wonderful girls who have taken time out of their busy schedules to make me something out of the goodness of their hearts.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “If you appreciate it that much, why don’t you get out of hiding right now and accept all the heartfelt chocolates from your search party outside?”

  “Blythe.” He gave her an incredulous grimace. “They’ll leave it all outside my dorm room if they can’t give it to me in person. I’ll receive them all in the end anyway. Not that I’d be able to eat them all before they spoiled. Besides …”

  The greenish tinge creeping into his face got her wondering. That had to have something to do with how his admirers apparently ‘overwhelmed’ him last year.

  “Besides what?”

  “Let’s not talk about it,” he said, waving her away. “The point is, I truly appreciate that these lovely girls thought of me on a day like this, and it’s really the thought that counts.”

  Blythe knew from the game that Cole was full of bovine excrement before Daisy went on his route, but it was still another thing to encounter it firsthand.

  “How kind of you. Even though you’re almost certainly not going to give them personalized chocolates on White Day in return for their thoughts.”

  He shrugged, spreading his hands open. “What can I say? They’re all equally lovely. I would hate to be unfair to any of them.”

  That elicited an eyeroll from her. While his route had been fun to play as Daisy, his playboy character trait had grated on Blythe’s nerves quite a few times.

  “Spare me. Are they gone yet?”

  For some strange reason, she got another flash of green light.

  “Actually, don’t go to the infirmary. It’d be nice if you just stayed this way.”

  Before she could do more than glare at him, Cole rose to his feet and strode back to the door. Blythe took the opportunity to stuff her textbook into her bag. He put his ear to the door for a couple of seconds, then pulled back and looked at her.

  “They should be gone. I don’t hear anything.”

  Getting out of her chair, Blythe slung her bag strap over her shoulder. “I’ll leave the desks to you. You won’t need my help, right?”

  She silently admonished herself for letting the question slip without thinking. Cole wasn’t one of her previous classmates, and she wasn’t in her original body that could actually provide any help.

  “You couldn’t even lift the desk by yourself,” Cole said, giving voice to the thought already occupying her mind. “I really don’t think I should be asking for your assistance.”

  She didn’t appreciate the sympathy in his eyes. Handsome blue-haired boy or not, he was prodding the sore point she’d been struggling with ever since transmigrating into Blythe’s body. She stopped at a good enough distance to keep out of Cole’s way while he grabbed the upside-down desk.

  As he effortlessly flipped it the right way up and placed it on the floor, Blythe tried to comfort herself with the fact that these desks were far denser than the ones her old high school had. Lifting them still wouldn’t have been a piece of cake in Mira’s body, even if she probably could’ve done it.

  Cole pushed the desks back to their original spots.

  “I’ve got to make a dash for it back to my room now,” he said, placing his hand on the door handle.

  “Hurry up and open it,” she said from beside him. “I want to leave too.”

  He flicked an annoyed glance at her. “I have to run the second I open this door. I need a moment to brace myself.”

  The corners of Blythe’s lips twitched, but she did her best to tamp down her amusement. These passionate fangirls were obviously a formidable bunch on Valentine’s Day.

  “Alright.”

  He sucked in an audible breath, then pushed down the door handle. “I’m off. But truly, I hope your head’s okay.”

  “Your—” head’s not okay!

  “See ya!” Cole ducked out of the classroom, carefree as anything.

  Blythe fumed all the way back to her dorm room. Every single person who crossed paths with her took one look at her face and gave her a wide berth.