3. Ending Rivalry
1781 Words
(Danielle)
"Cat got your tongue?"
He blinked. He had nothing left to say for once in his life, but I wasn't done yet.
"Like how you left me?" My voice came out lower than I intended, but steady. But he couldn't see how every word hurt like thorns at the base of my throat. "Like how everyone left me?"
"I didn't--"
I cut him off with a smile.
"It’s fine," I added, meeting his cold brown eyes.
I carried it with me--the rejection. It was stitched into every part of me now, like some kind of brand. I couldn't scrub it out, no matter how hard I tried. It was there, under my skin, screaming in bold red letters. Always. Always.
He stood frozen, his jaw tense, his gaze pinned on me like he was seeing something he hadn’t before. Something he hadn’t wanted to see.
"After everything I’ve survived," I went on, my tone sharper now, "you think you still have the power to hurt me?" I scoffed, shaking my head. “You did me a favor, McCarter. Honestly. You showed me what betrayal really feels like. And you made me stronger than you’ll ever be. Even with your Alpha blood and your self-righteous anger. I am stronger now, thanks to you.”
Something flickered in his expression. Pain. Guilt. Regret. I saw it for a second before he smothered it again beneath that stoic mask he always wore. But it was there.
“I...” He started, voice low, like he didn't know what to say, like he was afraid someone he didn't wish to say might come out if he opened his mouth.
I didn’t let him finish. I raised a hand to stop him, a tired smile curling on my lips—fake, practiced, perfect.
"Don’t," I said. "I’m not interested." I inhaled slowly. “I’m not you. I don’t need someone to feel whole. I’ve learned to survive on my own. And if Sean walks away someday? So be it. He’ll just be another name in a long, exhausting list of people who’ve hurt me, abandoned me. What's one more?
I met his eyes then. Let him see all of it. The ache. The anger.
“I didn’t die when you left me. And I won’t die if he does.”
For a long moment, he just stared at me, the silence thick between us. Maybe he wanted to speak. Maybe he didn’t know how. But it didn’t matter anymore.
I didn't care. I had already started walking away.
I opened the room, and took the desk at the back when the door banged open, and Aaron stormed in. He came straight to me, looming over me, eyes burning gold with vengeance.
"I left you?" he bit out, yanking me up from the chair. His voice was rough with frustration, rising behind me like a wave. “What about what you did to me? To us? What about Daisy?”
I bit my lips.
What about Daisy, I wanted to scream. But I didn't. I had said everything I wanted to say.
“Because of you, we’ll never be the same again, whole again,” he continued, and this time, the anger cracked, giving way to something desperate, broken. And I hated I cared, I hated that his desperation broke me. “Because of you… we’re broken. And our family is struggling to even breathe through it. It fuck.ing hurts to... to...”
I stood still, hands clenched at my sides, throat tight. His words didn’t hurt the way they used to. Not because they didn’t matter—Goddess, they did—but because I’d already bled all my grief dry over them. Every accusation he threw at me was nothing new. I had gone through it, I had fought through it.
I didn’t reply. What was the point?
I’d told him the truth more times than I could count. Whispered it. Screamed it. Cried it. And still, he’d chosen not to hear it—chosen his version of the story over mine every time. Every fu.cking time.
Why should I bother anymore? Why waste breath on someone who only listened to his pain, not mine?
My truth had died in his.
I looked up with a sigh. “You want me to defend myself again?” I asked, calm but tired, so goddamn tired. “You want me to beg you to see the truth?”
He didn’t answer. Just stared down at his sneakers like they were going to give him the courage to speak. A low grunt escaped him.
“That’s what I thought, McCarter,” I said, with a faint shake of my head. “You don’t want answers. You just want someone to blame. You want me to be the punching bag, and I have learnt not to stop you. It makes you angrier... when I try.”
I moved away and sat down, away from his accusing eyes, his unresolved anger, his inability to let go of the past or accept my truth.
I didn’t need to fight him anymore.
I was done fighting to be believed. Done trying to fix things I didn’t break.
Sighing, I pulled open the book, waiting for my teacher to finally grace us.
The silence stretched. I could feel Aaron's eyes on my back, like a pricking, relentless burn, but I didn't turn, I didn't look.
***
Ten minutes later, I was ready to run away. This was too much. Where the hell was my teacher?
I grabbed my phone from my bag and saw a message from Millie.
Millie Barns was my friend from Wylen Circle. Unlike everyone there, she was kind and compassionate, and I had no idea why she chose me over Anna Sophia--the rivalry wasn’t obvious, but it was always there--but she chose to stick by me, and I was always grateful for that.
I called her.
“Hey,” she said. “Where are you? I waited for you at Mattie's Secret. Logan asked where you were?”
Mattie’s Secret was my favorite coffee place.
They had heavenly coffee and milkshakes—the kind that made you rethink your entire existence after the first sip. I mean, sure, people always say something is “to die for,” but personally? I’d rather stay alive just so I could keep drinking those shakes every single day.
“Detention,” I said with a wince. She took in a sharp breath. “With Aaron freaking McCarter."
"Oh my Goddess, what did you do now? D, how many times have I told you—don’t do dumb things in class?” she asked, exasperated.
“I didn’t do anything dumb! I just… messed up an experiment.”
“You’re impossible. And Aaron? Alpha Goldenboy? What did he do? He is too perfect to--”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s you, isn’t it? You did something.”
“Don’t blame me,” I said with a wince.
"Okay but like... is it weird that I kind of envy you right now?" Millie asked, her voice teasing. I knew what she was going to say next.
“Millie. No.”
“I’m just saying. The guy is panty-dropping hot. I’d serve detention every day if it meant sitting next to that jawline.”
“You’re a traitor. You’re supposed to hate him with me.”
“I do hate him. I hate his perfect face and annoyingly sharp cheekbones and that damn smirk—”
“You’re literally making it worse,” I snapped, trying hard not to look back.
“Just saying what we’re all thinking. Also, Jesse says hi, and he wants you to tell Aaron hi too.”
“Tell Jesse to keep his greetings to himself. The asshole would incinerate me with his eyes if I said his name.”
“He won’t. Okay, maybe he will, but he will look hot doing--”
“You’re dead. Officially. Hang up, now.
“Love you too, b***h. Call me if he starts brooding extra hard. I want updates.”
“Goodbye, Satan,” I said, hanging up, shaking my head.
Yeah, I loved Millie, but she was insane. F.ucking insane.
I stared blankly at the front wall of the detention room. She had officially ruined my brain chemistry for the next twenty minutes. Aaron panty-dropping hot McCarter? Ugh.
A throat cleared from the corner.
I flinched and turned my head. s**t. I had completely forgotten Aaron was in the room—of course he’d hear everything with his damn wolf-hearing.
He was sprawled in his chair, arms folded, one brow raised like he’d just overheard something very entertaining. His smirk was practically tattooed on his face, and I was seconds away from digging a hole in the ground and disappearing into it.
He opened his mouth—no doubt to deliver some smug comment—when the door creaked open.
“Good. You’re both here,” Mr. Boston announced as he walked in, and I had never been so grateful to see his stern face in my entire life.
He handed me a binder. “Ms. Landon, this contains the updated experiment steps. Read carefully this time. And for the love of science, measure accurately.”
Then he tossed one to Aaron. “Mr. McCarter, yours. And no more chemical warfare in my lab.”
Aaron stared at the binder like it had personally offended him. His brow furrowed as he flipped through the first few pages, and I already felt the migraine forming in the back of my skull.
I glanced down at mine. “What the hell is this?”
“This isn’t even the experiment we messed up this morning,” Aaron said, flipping another page and shooting Mr. Boston a look. “This is completely different.”
“Correct,” Mr. Boston said smoothly, without so much as blinking.
Aaron stood up, brows drawn. “But why?”
“Because you two need to learn to work together,” Mr. Boston said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Figure it out. Together.”
I opened my mouth to protest. “I really don’t think this is a good idea, sir.”
Both Aaron and Mr. Boston turned to me with twin expressions of do you want a second detention? I promptly sank into my chair and shut my mouth.
Aaron muttered, “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Do it. Figure it out—or stay here every evening until you do. This… little rivalry between you two ends now.”
Like it was that easy to end our rivalry…
- Writer
