CHAPTER 6
856 Words
He didn’t sleep the night before. Not for any tangible reason. He just… didn’t. He lay there, starting at the ceiling of a ten million dollar house he didn’t ask to be born into, while the silence pressed down like a second mattress on his chest.
No dreams. No nightmares. Just noise. Inside his own head, the kind that never shuts up.
People say money buys peace and happiness, everything good. Maybe that’s true for people who didn’t grow up being raised by rich psychopaths. His phone buzzed twice. Group chat. Boys from school, talking s**t. Probably planning another party.
He turned his face down. Down the hall, a door opened. He heard the careful clicks of dress shoes. It was his father’s walk- even at 3:04 a.m., the man still felt like a threat. Jackson closed his eyes, not asleep just avoiding.
There was always something to prove in this house.
Eat like a Creed. Talk like a Creed. Win like a Creed.
God forbid you slipped. God, forbid you felt anything.
He rolled over, checked the time.
3:16 a.m.
Of course.
He hadn’t been truly asleep since middle school.
People said his life was perfect. And they weren’t wrong, technically.
He had the face. The name. The house. The car. The numbers. The kind of numbers that looked good on transcripts and even better on Forbes articles.
His father didn’t raise him to be human. He raised him to be untouchable. Let them think it’s natural. Let them worship you for it.
That’s what his father taught him.
And Jackson learned fast.
Because Jackson Creed wasn’t some tragic kid on a coming-of-age journey. He was the golden boy everyone wanted to be, that’s who he was.
The only time he ever got close to “real” was under the covers, pulling open the drawer beneath his bed. A pill or two.
Nothing dangerous. Nothing that would leave a mark.
Just enough to blur the edges.
Just enough to slow the thoughts. Blur the ache. Enough to make life bearable without losing his brand.
Tiara didn’t know. And if she suspected? She ignored it.
That was their whole thing -ignore what hurts, post what’s pretty.
She liked to say they were complicated.
He liked to say they were convenient.
Tiara fit the Creed lifestyle. Beautiful, rich, ruthless in the way that got you elected president of things. They weren’t dating. They weren’t not.
But everyone in school knew the rules: Tiara = Jackson. Jackson = Tiara. Untouchable.
And Jackson played along. Because if he stopped playing, what was left?
The truth?
The truth was- He didn’t even remember who he was before the world started deciding for him.
Until her. Until yesterday.
That girl- Avery. When She raised her voice.
She shattered something.
In front of everyone.
The look in her eyes wasn’t awe, no. It wasn’t fear, far from it. It wasn’t a crush, not at all.
It was rage. Pure. Honest. Unfiltered.
And the way she stood there, fists shaking, voice cracking, daring the world to keep looking at her like she was nothing-
That s**t did something to him. That was different.
Not like that. Not in a she’s different rom-com way. No. far from that actually. More like… she saw him.
He was drawn to it. More in the what the hell was that way.
Because no one ever talked to him like that.
Not the version he put on. Not the fake god they made him into. She looked at him like he was a fraud. And for a second?
He couldn’t tell if he wanted to punch a wall… or follow her out. He remembered the sting of her words. Not the words themselves, but the way they hit.
No one ever screamed at him before. No one ever looked him in the eye like they didn’t give a s**t who his father was.
Because for a second-a split, stupid second-he didn’t feel like Jackson Creed.
He felt like… someone else.
Someone less.
The only other person who ever made him feel that way was his father.
So yeah, he noticed her.
How could he not?
It wasn’t attraction.
It was confusion.
Annoyance.
But also… something he didn’t have the language for.
She didn’t know how much power she held at that moment.
And that pissed him off.
He’d stared at the gym doors long after she left, chest tight, lips parted, like someone had just slapped him in front of the whole school.
The whispers started the next day.
“She cursed him out.”
“She cried.”
“She ran.”
No one dared say anything to his face. They never did.
But still, the moment echoed. Played on loop.
He tried to shake it. To pretend it didn’t happen.
But something inside him wouldn’t let it go
Now here he was. Jumpy. Wired. Distracted. Thinking about a girl whose name he hadn’t even known yesterday morning.
But he knew it now.
Avery.
He’d said it out loud after she told him, let it roll around his tongue like a secret.
- Writer
