13: The Fallout
596 Words
By Monday morning, the whispers had reached a fever pitch.
I didn’t know how, but somehow, someone had seen us. Maybe it was the way Jason had pulled me outside. Maybe it was the lamppost’s glow catching more than it should have. Either way, the rumors had grown wings—and now they circled me like vultures.
“Did you see them leave together?”
“I swear he was holding her hand.”
“No way. They’re step-siblings. That’s messed up.”
The words chased me down the hall, each one cutting deeper than the last.
Maya tried to play defense. “They’re exaggerating,” she hissed as we headed to class. “People invent drama when they’re bored. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
But the thing was—they weren’t exaggerating. Not really. And that secret made my cheeks burn every time I caught Jason’s gaze across the hall.
He, of course, looked utterly unbothered. Calm. Controlled. Untouchable. The king of Brookwood Academy, immune to scandal.
Meanwhile, I was drowning.
⸻
At lunch, things boiled over.
I’d barely sat down when Chelsea’s voice cut through the cafeteria like nails on a chalkboard. “So, Princess,” she called, smirking, “how was your romantic stroll with Jason after the dance?”
The room erupted in laughter. My chest tightened, shame burning hot. I opened my mouth to respond, but Jason beat me to it.
“Jealous, Chelsea?” His voice carried easily, laced with dangerous amusement. “Don’t worry. You’ll never get the chance.”
Gasps rippled through the room. Chelsea’s face went scarlet, and for once, she had no clever retort. She grabbed her tray and stormed out, her entourage scrambling after her.
All eyes swung back to me. Some shocked. Some curious. Some downright cruel.
Jason sat down at my table like it was the most natural thing in the world, ignoring the stares. “Eat,” he said, pushing my untouched apple toward me.
I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” I hissed under my breath.
He leaned closer, his voice low and unapologetic. “I don’t care what they think.”
But I cared. God, I cared so much. Every glance, every whisper felt like a weight pressing down on me.
“You should,” I muttered, pushing the apple back toward him. “Because this isn’t just about you. It’s about me too.”
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The silence between us was louder than any rumor.
⸻
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment from the dance to today. Jason was reckless, fearless, untouchable. But me? I wasn’t built like that.
When the door creaked open, my heart jumped. Jason slipped in, closing it softly behind him.
“Olivia,” he said quietly.
I sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted, his eyes steady on mine. “But I had to see you.”
His presence filled the room, stealing the air from my lungs. “Jason… this is spiraling out of control.”
“Then let it,” he said simply, stepping closer. “I’m not letting them dictate how I feel. Not about you.”
The words lodged in my chest, terrifying and intoxicating all at once.
Because even as fear clawed at me, I knew the truth: I didn’t want him to stop.
And that made everything so much more dangerous.
- Writer
