Chapter 3: RUMORS DON’T LIE
1112 Words
I tried not to look at him differently.
I really did.
But once something is planted in your mind, it grows even when you don’t want it to. Rumors are like seeds in dry soil: they take root, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop them from spreading.
Noah was quieter than usual the next day, or maybe I was just noticing things I hadn’t before. I watched him from across the lecture hall, trying to focus on the lecturer’s monotone voice, but my gaze kept wandering. He sat two rows ahead, shoulders relaxed, head slightly tilted, scribbling notes with that effortless calm he carried everywhere. The very sight made my chest tighten.
Heartbreaker.
The word echoed uninvited in my mind. I tried to shove it away, to remind myself I barely knew him. And yet… the rumors had already begun to taint the way I saw him.
When class ended, I packed my things quickly, hoping to avoid him. But fate had other plans.
“Library again?” he asked, falling into step beside me. His tone was casual, almost teasing, but I felt the weight of it anyway.
I didn’t look at him. “We can’t meet today.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so,” I snapped, a little more sharply than I intended.
He stopped walking. I didn’tuntil I realized he wasn’t beside me anymore. I spun around.
“What?”
“You always do that,” he said calmly, his voice quiet but sharp.
“Do what?”
“Push first. Explain later. If at all.”
I crossed my arms, trying to maintain my composure. “You don’t know me.”
“True,” he said, nodding once, almost thoughtfully. “But I’d like to.”
The honesty in his voice caught me off guard. For a fleeting moment, I almost forgot the rumors. Almost forgot everything. Almost wanted to trust him.
Then I remembered.
Zara.
The broken heart.
The whispers.
I couldn’t ignore it. My chest tightened as I stepped back. “I’m busy,” I said coldly, forcing myself to walk away.
⸻
Later that evening, I sat in the cafeteria with my friends, trying to focus on our chatter, but my eyes betrayed me. They kept drifting to the far corner where he sat, laughing with someone else.
Her.
She was leaning close, touching his arm in a way that suggested familiarity, laughter spilling between them. He smiled at her—the same easy smile that made people think he was harmless.
My stomach twisted.
“Don’t look now,” my friend whispered, “but your group partner is already charming someone else.”
“I don’t care,” I lied, though my voice sounded weaker than I intended.
But I couldn’t stop watching. The laughter, the gentle touch of her hand on his arm, the way he leaned slightly toward her—it was infuriating and yet… magnetic.
My chest tightened, a mixture of jealousy and confusion. I didn’t even want to admit the jealousy, but it was there, raw and undeniable.
I stood abruptly. “I’m leaving,” I muttered, unable to stay another second.
Outside, the night air was cool, crisp, and refreshing, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside me. I walked faster, angry at him, angry at myself, angry at the feelings I was barely able to recognize.
Then I heard his voice.
“Hey.”
I turned sharply. There he was, a few feet away, hands in his pockets. Calm. Composed. Unfazed.
“What?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral, even as my heart raced.
“You didn’t show up to the meeting,” he said quietly. “I was worried.”
I laughed bitterly. “That’s funny. You didn’t look worried.”
His brows pulled together, concern flickering in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw you,” I said, voice tight. “With her.”
Realization crossed his face. A shadow fell over his expression—anger? frustration? Something darker I couldn’t place.
“She’s my cousin,” he said quietly.
My breath caught. I felt foolish, my mind racing to catch up with what he had just said.
“Oh,” I replied, words catching in my throat. I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
He stepped closer, and suddenly the distance between us felt charged, intense. “You believed the rumors, didn’t you?” His voice was quiet but edged with disappointment.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head slightly. “I thought you were different.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to respond, but before anything could come out, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and the name flashing made his face change instantly emotion drained away, replaced by a look I couldn’t read.
“I have to take this,” he said, voice dropping, almost professional.
I froze in place, realizing just how complicated he was. Suddenly, curiosity wasn’t enough. I was scared of what I might discover if I tried to understand him too quickly.
He walked away, phone pressed to his ear, leaving me in the cold night air. My heart was still racing, a mix of frustration, relief, and something I couldn’t name.
The following days were a delicate dance. I tried to avoid him, but our group assignments made it impossible. Every time we met in the library or in class, the tension was palpable, a push and pull I couldn’t ignore.
One afternoon, I found him waiting in the quad, leaning against a tree, his notebook open but ignored. He looked up as I approached, a slow, knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“You seem… distracted,” I said, folding my arms.
“Depends on who’s asking,” he replied, eyes glinting.
I tried to maintain my composure, reminding myself that he was just a classmate, just a partner for the assignment. But my pulse betrayed me, quickening as I walked past him to sit on the bench nearby.
We spent the next hour in tense silence, stealing glances, pretending to be focused on our work. I noticed the way his hands moved when he wrote, the subtle tilt of his head, the quiet hum of concentration.
And I realized something I wasn’t ready to admit.
Noah King wasn’t just a rumor. Not just a heartbreaker. Not just a boy I was almost supposed to hate.
He was… a mystery I wanted to solve.
And maybe, terrifyingly, someone I was beginning to care about.
- Writer
