14: Breaking Point
563 Words
By midweek, I felt like I was walking through fire. Everywhere I went, the stares followed me. In the library, in the cafeteria, in the halls—whispers chased me like shadows.
“She’s the reason Chelsea got humiliated.”
“Jason’s obsessed with her.”
“Imagine being that desperate for attention.”
Each word chipped away at me, until even Maya’s reassurances couldn’t glue me back together.
Jason, of course, seemed untouched. He strolled the halls with his usual arrogance, tossing smirks at anyone who dared to whisper too loudly. If anything, he seemed almost amused by the chaos.
And that was what made me snap.
⸻
It happened after class. I spotted him leaning against his locker, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. A group of girls lingered nearby, giggling, hoping he’d look their way.
I marched straight toward him, ignoring the curious stares.
“Jason,” I hissed, grabbing his arm. “We need to talk.”
He arched an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “Well, good afternoon to you too, Princess.”
“Not here.” I tugged him toward the empty stairwell, my heart pounding. When the door shut behind us, I spun on him.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
He slid his hands into his pockets, tilting his head lazily. “Living my life. Why?”
“Don’t play dumb, Jason.” My voice trembled, but I forced it stronger. “You’re making this worse. Every time you defend me, every time you sit with me, every time you look at me like that—people talk. And I’m the one they tear apart, not you.”
For the first time, his smirk faded. He studied me, his gaze sharp. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying this has to stop,” I whispered.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Jason stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space. “Stop what, Olivia? Stop protecting you? Stop sitting with you? Or…” His eyes darkened, his voice dropping lower. “Stop wanting you?”
My breath caught. “Jason…”
“You think I don’t hear them?” he continued, his tone fierce now. “You think I don’t know what they say about us? I don’t care. Let them talk. Let them choke on their jealousy. None of it matters.”
“It matters to me!” I burst out, my voice echoing against the stairwell walls. “I can’t breathe, Jason. I can’t walk into a room without feeling like I’m drowning in their judgment. And you—you just act like it’s a game.”
His jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. For once, the arrogance slipped, leaving something raw and wounded.
“I don’t see it as a game,” he said quietly. “I see it as the first real thing in my life.”
The words stunned me. My chest ached, my anger colliding with something far more dangerous—hope.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, though even as I said it, my heart betrayed me.
Jason’s eyes locked onto mine, intense and unyielding. “You already are.”
⸻
That night, his words replayed in my head, over and over.
Because maybe he was right.
Maybe I already was.
- Writer
