THADDEUS BLACK The Devil Wears High Heels

I have no conscience. That's why I'm so much fun." – Ted Bundy

Jaxon Reed was the kind of guy who could charm the pants off a nun and then convince her it was her idea. Friday nights under the stadium lights were his kingdom-Westbridge High's golden boy, quarterback extraordinaire, six feet of lean muscle wrapped in a grin that could melt glaciers. The crowd roared as he jogged off the field, helmet dangling from one hand, dark hair tousled just right. The scoreboard screamed 42-7, another victory carved out by his arm and his swagger. Cheerleaders shrieked his name, teachers nodded like proud parents, and his teammates practically drooled over him. He flashed that smile-bright, effortless, a little wicked-and they lapped it up like dogs at a water bowl.

Morons, the lot of them.

"Jax, you're a beast out there!" Coach Hargrove bellowed, slapping his shoulder so hard it'd leave a bruise on anyone else. Coach's moustache quivered with glee, like it was auditioning for its own fan club.

"Gotta keep the scoreboard honest, Coach," Jaxon shot back, dodging a playful jab from Bryce, his wide receiver. "Can't let Bryce take all the credit-he'd trip over his own ego." The team hooted, Bryce flipped him off, and Jaxon's grin widened. They thought he was hilarious, the life of the party. No conscience, no worries-just pure, unfiltered fun. He didn't tell them he'd spent halftime wondering how long it'd take to drown Bryce in the Gatorade cooler. People were so easy to play. Loud, needy, and dumber than dirt. He didn't like them-never had-but he liked the power they handed him on a silver platter.

Monday morning, he was back to owning the halls. Girls fluttered their lashes, guys slapped his back, and Mrs. Carter in the cafeteria slipped him an extra chocolate chip cookie like he was a damn puppy. He was mid-story-something about spiking Bryce's drink with hot sauce last game, a real crowd-pleaser-when she walked in.

Lena Voss. New girl. Word was she'd transferred from some podunk town nobody cared about. She shuffled into the cafeteria in a hoodie two sizes too big, brown hair yanked back in a ponytail, eyes flicking around like she expected an ambush. Jaxon's punchline died on his tongue. His chest did this stupid flip, like a fish flopping on a dock. What the hell?

"You good, man?" Bryce asked, waving a meaty hand in front of his face.