It Will Come Back

Stop Screwing About, Ravi!

“This was your idea, Ravi! You knock!” I snapped, glaring at him as he stubbornly shook his head.

“No way. We agreed on Rock, Paper, Scissors. Fair is fair,” he shot back, folding his arms in defiance.

“Are we five?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“You act like it,” Ravi replied with a smirk that could rival a Cheshire cat.

“Stop screwing about and just get out of the car,” I growled, already opening the passenger door and unbuckling my seatbelt. But when I glanced over, Ravi hadn’t budged. He sat there, stiff as a statue, refusing to even make eye contact.

“Fine!” I huffed, holding out my hand in frustration. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ravi’s smug grin widened as he mirrored my gesture. “Ready when you are.”

“Rock, paper, scissors!” we chanted in unison, throwing down our choices.

“Rock!” I declared triumphantly.

“Fire!” Ravi countered with a gleeful laugh.

“What? That’s not even a thing!” I glared at him, incredulous. “Stick to the rules, asshole. Come on!”

Ten minutes later—after an infuriating twenty rounds of “Rock, Paper, Scissors, Fire” and increasingly ridiculous banter—I lost.

“Ha! Victory is mine!” Ravi cheered, practically bouncing in his seat. “Good luck, champ. I’ll be right behind you!”

“Yeah, sure you will,” I muttered under my breath, trudging toward the door.

As I raised my hand to knock, I caught sight of Ravi sprinting back to the car like his life depended on it. “Big baby!” I shouted after him, only to freeze when a soft voice responded behind me.

“Excuse me?”

I spun around to find a woman standing there, holding a basket of laundry.

“Oh, sorry! I wasn’t talking to you,” I stammered, my face burning with embarrassment. “Uh, I was wondering if Luke’s home?”

Her face softened into a polite smile. “Oh no, he’s away in France for a rugby championship. Can I help you with something?”

France? My stomach twisted uneasily. That didn’t fit.

“Oh, it’s nothing major. He borrowed my Spanish textbook, and I left some notes in it,” I lied, the words tumbling out too quickly.

The woman’s brow furrowed thoughtfully before she nodded. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you grabbed it. He keeps his textbooks on his desk. Come in.”

I hesitated at the threshold, eyeing the open door warily. This felt too easy, too convenient. But before I could change my mind, she was already inside, cradling a baby she’d lifted from a nearby chair.

“His room’s at the end of the hall, on the left,” she called over her shoulder, her voice gentle as she rocked the baby in her arms.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, stepping inside.

The house was cozy, yet eerily quiet. Each creak of the floorboards under my feet echoed like a warning. As I climbed the staircase, gripping the banister, my legs wobbled slightly. What if this was a trap? My instincts screamed at me to turn back, but my stubborn curiosity pushed me forward.

At the top of the stairs, I paused in front of Luke’s door. My hand hovered over the knob, clammy and shaking. Quickly, I texted Ravi:

Be on standby. If I’m gone for more than ten minutes, come get me.

His reply buzzed back almost instantly:

Yeah, sure.

Great. So reassuring.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and slipped inside.

The room was neat—too neat for a guy like Luke. The desk was impeccably organized, with textbooks stacked in a perfect tower. Ignoring them, I gravitated toward the bedside table. My fingers brushed over the smooth wood before pulling the drawer open.

Inside was a small, black notebook with KEEP OUT scrawled across the cover in bold, messy handwriting.

“Cute,” I muttered sarcastically, recalling the brief crush I’d had on him when I was eleven. He’d crushed it by calling me a “fat pig” in front of everyone. Worst insult ever. Truly groundbreaking.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I flipped the book open.

Dear Diary,

Is it gay for a guy to write in a diary? Well, no one’s gonna find this anyway.

I snorted. Well, didn’t that backfire.

Today was the first day I noticed her, and I shouldn’t have. But it made my heart skip ten times over. Her short blue hair swayed on her shoulders, and the way she smiled whenever she saw a blackbird—it’s her favorite. I can’t stop thinking about her. I should be thinking about Casey. She’s perfect. Blonde, sunny, everything I’m supposed to want. So why can’t I get Chloe out of my head?

I felt a pang in my chest, an unspoken longing that wasn’t even mine. Turning the page, I read on.

Today she kissed me. I froze, but then I leaned in, tucking her hair behind her ear. It felt different with Chloe—passionate, meaningful. I need her. God, how cheesy is that? Tonight, we’re meeting at her favorite spot. She says no one will find us there.

I flipped the page, eager for more clues. My heart raced as I skimmed the entries, piecing together the secret affair he’d kept hidden.

A sketch of Chloe caught my eye. She was holding a butterfly, her lips puckered as if she were about to blow it away.

I’m the butterfly, and every time she kisses me, it feels like she’s giving me hope.

I was so absorbed that I didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind me until someone cleared their throat.

My blood turned to ice.

I turned slowly, the notebook still clutched in my hands.

“s**t,” I whispered under my breath. “Busted.”

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