Chapter 2
1134 Words
The bell hadn't even rung yet when Zach materialized at my locker, his glasses fogged with panic.
"He was there again?" he hissed, asthma inhaler clutched like a talisman. "Outside your house? Emily, this is stalker-level creepy!"
Lilly appeared silently beside him, her dark braids swinging.
She didn't speak, just scanned my face with unnerving focus, her square bangs framing eyes that missed nothing.
Zach's inhaler hissed as he sucked in a shaky breath. "We should report him! Principal Davies—"
Lilly cut him off with a sharp headshake, her braids slicing the air. "Principal Davies suspended Jacob for three days just for looking at Scarlet Britt's phone."
Her voice stayed low, factual. "Luke's dad owns half the car dealerships in town. What do you think happens?"
Zach deflated, shoulders slumping. "So we just... what? Let him kidnap you every morning?"
The word 'kidnap' hung too loud in the hallway.
Lilly's eyes flickered toward a group of cheerleaders passing by.
Tiffany Campbell's sharp laugh cut through the noise as she spotted us, her green eyes narrowing with predatory interest.
She whispered something to Scarlet, whose vacant hazel gaze locked onto our huddle.
Lilly subtly shifted, placing herself between me and their line of sight.
"Not kidnap," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the locker slams. "Protection."
Zach blinked. "Protection? From what? Luke is the threat!"
Lilly tilted her head, her dark eyes unreadable.
"Jacob does this," she murmured, her voice flat. "When he knows a fight's coming. He circles. Watches exits. Checks who's armed."
She glanced meaningfully toward the senior parking lot where Luke had confronted Sheldon. "He becomes... hyper-focused. On the person in the crosshairs."
Zach frowned, adjusting his glasses. "But Emily isn't in anyone's crosshairs!"
Lilly's gaze drifted toward the football trophy case where Tiffany and Scarlet now leaned, whispering while staring directly at me.
Tiffany's smile curved like a razor blade. "Aren't she?" Lilly murmured.
The warning bell shrilled overhead, scattering students.
Lilly melted into the crowd without another word, leaving Zach sputtering beside me.
His inhaler hissed again. "Protection? From Tiffany? That's insane! Luke shoves you into lockers himself!"
I stared at Lilly's retreating back, her braids vanishing into the chaos.
Tiffany's laugh echoed, sharp and deliberate.
Scarlet nudged her, both pairs of eyes fixed on me like I was prey cornered. My throat tightened.
Lilly’s words clicked—Jacob did stalk exits before brawls.
Luke’s driveway vigil, the food interrogation, the stairwell warning… it wasn’t obsession.
It was reconnaissance.
Zach followed me to English Lit, his voice a frantic whisper. "Okay, but protection implies danger, Em! Real danger! What does Tiffany even want with—"
He cut himself off, eyes widening behind his glasses as we rounded the corner.
Luke stood rigid outside the classroom door, blocking it.
His gaze locked onto mine, intense and searching. "What did Tiffany do?"
The question was low, urgent, scraping out like gravel.
He ignored Zach completely, his blue eyes scanning my face, my posture, hunting for invisible damage. "This morning. After I left you at your locker. What did she do?"
Zach sputtered, "N-nothing! She just looked at us! Like she always does!"
His inhaler rattled in his trembling hand.
Luke’s gaze finally flicked to him, cold and dismissive, before snapping back to me.
"She said something. What was it?" His voice dropped lower, strained. "Tell me."
The hallway emptied as the final bell rang, leaving us stranded in sudden silence.
Luke’s knuckles were white where he gripped the doorframe, his stare pinning me like a specimen under glass.
Zach shrank back, wheezing softly.
“She didn’t say anything,” I managed, my voice thin. “She just… laughed.”
Luke’s knuckles whitened on the doorframe.
His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath the skin like a trapped nerve.
“Laughing’s worse,” he muttered, more to himself than me.
His gaze darted past my shoulder, scanning the empty hallway with that same coiled tension from the parking lot—like he expected Tiffany to materialize from the lockers.
He didn’t move, forcing me to slide past him into the classroom.
His letterman jacket brushed my arm, stiff with cold sweat.
I caught the faint scent of Axe body spray and something sharper—fear sweat—as I squeezed past Luke into the classroom.
His eyes never left me, tracking my movement like a sniper until I slid into my usual seat near the window.
Zach practically collapsed beside me, fumbling with his inhaler.
"Dude's lost it," he wheezed, wiping fogged glasses. "Seriously, Em. We need a plan."
But my attention snagged on Luke.
He hadn't taken his usual seat in the back row, slouched and smirking.
Instead, he stood rigid by the teacher's desk, arms crossed, scanning the room as students filed in.
His gaze lingered on the door, then flicked to the windows, assessing angles like a soldier in hostile territory.
When Tiffany sauntered in, tossing her golden hair, Luke’s posture stiffened.
He tracked her every step to her seat, his expression unreadable but his knuckles bone-white where they gripped his elbows.
Tiffany paused beside my desk, her perfume—sickly sweet vanilla—drowning the air.
"Cute hoodie, Thompson," she purred, fingering the frayed cuff of my sleeve. "Thrift store special?" Scarlet giggled vacuously behind her.
Luke moved before I could flinch. In three strides, he was between us, his back to me like a shield.
"Walk away, Campbell," he growled, low and lethal.
Tiffany’s smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of genuine surprise.
She took a half-step back, her green eyes narrowing as they raked over Luke’s rigid stance, the way he deliberately blocked her path to me.
“What’s gotten into you, Luke?” Tiffany’s voice dripped with false sweetness, sharpened by an edge of genuine confusion. “First, you’re playing chauffeur for the library ghost every morning, and now you’re her personal bodyguard? Did you take a header into the tackling dummies one too many times? Smash your pretty head?”
Luke didn’t flinch. His gaze remained locked on her, cold and unblinking. “I said walk away.”
The command was a low rasp, vibrating with a tension that felt like a live wire stretched taut between them.
Behind Tiffany, Scarlet’s giggle died, her hazel eyes wide and suddenly uncertain.
The classroom door swung open, cutting through the silence.
Mr. Davies, our balding English teacher, shuffled in, oblivious to the tension crackling between Tiffany and Luke.
He dropped a stack of essays on his desk with a thud. "Palmer, take a seat. Campbell, stop looming."
Tiffany's smile returned, razor-thin and dangerous.
She leaned around Luke, her green eyes locking onto mine.
"See you around, Thompson," she murmured, the promise dripping like poison before she sauntered to her seat.
- Writer
