Aww Seven Exes Begged Cute Blocked novel Chapter 2

**A Promise Written on the Rusted Edge of Time by Dael Rowan Sire**

**Chapter 2**

From that fateful day onward, I made a conscious effort to steer clear of Dylan. It was as if an invisible barrier had formed between us, one that I dared not cross.

But the nickname, “The Leech,” had already begun its relentless spread, much like wildfire consuming dry grass in the summer.

It infiltrated every nook and cranny of the school, echoing in the hallways, resonating in classrooms, and lurking in every shadowy corner.

In class, I could feel the weight of their whispers pressing against my back.

“That’s her. The Leech.”

“I can’t believe Dylan puts up with her.”

At the library, a voice would rise above the quiet, loud enough for me to catch every word: “Oh wow, The Leech can read.”

“Probably just trying to look smart to impress the guys,” another would chime in, their laughter ringing in my ears like a taunt.

Even at the school store, the cashier would shoot me glances that felt heavy with disdain, as if I were something vile stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

But the most painful part of this entire ordeal? My dorm room.

The girls I once considered friends had begun to treat me as if I were a pariah, someone infected with a contagious disease.

At first, they simply ceased their conversations with me, their words evaporating into thin air.

Then came the complete withdrawal of any semblance of kindness.

They stopped inviting me to join them for lunch, casually mentioning, “We’re heading to the cafeteria,” before turning on their heels and walking away, leaving me behind, alone, in our shared room, staring at the barren walls that felt like they were closing in on me.

The camaraderie we once shared over snacks vanished overnight.

We used to swap chips and candy like it was second nature, but now, they secured all their treats in their lockers, as if I might somehow siphon off their precious goodies.

Even something as trivial as borrowing a phone charger became a monumental task.

“Tm using it,” one would say curtly.

“Mine’s dead,” I’d reply, desperation creeping into my voice.

“I already lent it to someone,” came the excuse, always ready and waiting.

One evening, I returned to the dorm later than usual, a sense of trepidation settling in my stomach.

As I opened the door, I could hear them whispering on the balcony, their voices conspiratorial and sharp.

“Is it true Ivy’s been using Dylan’s money this whole time?”

“Must be. Why else would Madison call her The Leech?”

“She’s broke, right? So where’s her tuition money coming from?”

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