Unwritten Lines

Chapter 3: Caden - Scared Rabbit

Caden

I didn’t mean to trip her.

That’s what I f*****g tell myself. Over and over again. As if I say it enough, it’ll make it true.

The moment Lia hit the floor, papers flying, hair falling in her face, eyes wide and glassy, I didn’t look away. I watched. I didn’t help. I sure as hell didn’t stop Misty when she laughed loud enough for the whole hallway to turn. I just stood there, as I always do, hands in my pockets, smirking. As if I’m proud of it and none of it matters.

Josh claps me on the back as we cut through the quad between classes. “Bro, that fall? Ten outta ten.”

“Should’ve seen her face,” Declan adds, snickering. “I mean, who signs up for the lead when they look like that?”

I shrug. “Guess she wanted her fifteen seconds of fame.”

“She set herself up for that one,” Josh mutters.

I let them laugh, because that’s how it works here. You don’t show weakness. You don’t defend the girl everyone already decided doesn’t matter. Not when your girlfriend’s the one who wrote her name on that f*****g sheet to begin with.

I should’ve told Misty to cut it out. I didn’t.

Instead, I trailed behind her in the hall the way I always do, watched her scribble Lia’s name under the lead role in bold black ink. Probably one of those permanent markers she keeps in her bag, tucked away like a weapon. When she turned back, grinning, eyes lit up as if she just pulled the best prank of the year, I didn’t flinch.

That’s what’s bugging me now.

I head to the gym after lunch, not for a game, but to burn off some steam. The basketball hits the floor again and again, the squeaks filling the gym. My legs ache, shoulders burn, and none of it clears my head.

Lia’s eyes keep flashing in my mind.

She looked hurt, humiliated, and shattered. Her eyes lingered on me and not once did they flick to anyone else.

As if she expected something. Why the f**k would she expect anything from me? Who the hell am I kidding? She should expect it. I’ve been the one knocking her down for years.

The ball slips from my grip and bounces across the court. I don’t chase it. I skip class for the rest of the day. I stick around instead, pacing the back of the school. I pass the auditorium more than once, even though rehearsal hasn’t started yet. The lights are off, but I hear voices coming from backstage. Sutton and Jenna, maybe. They’re laughing, but I don’t hear her. She’s probably off somewhere alone, trying to figure out how to survive tomorrow without losing it.

You shouldn’t care. Walk away.

I don’t. Not yet.

Later that night:

I’m on my bed, phone lying flat on my chest. I’ve been staring at the ceiling for so long, I swear it’s f*****g moving. Misty won’t stop texting me: photos, updates, and a screenshot of some girl she’s targeting next. She always has a list, and now... Lia’s on it.

She shouldn’t f*****g be on that list. I can’t say anything though, because it would cause ten kinds of hell for me.

Misty’s tacky strawberry perfume lingers on my hoodie. It’s cheap and repulsive. I rip my hoodie off and toss it on the floor.

I don’t know why the f**k I care. I shouldn’t.

I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep, but it’s useless. My mind won’t shut off. It’s stuck on a f*****g loop. I see her again, she’s on the floor, scrambling to gather her things. Only this time, no one is laughing. Misty, Josh, and the others are gone. It’s just me, watching, and doing nothing. She looks up at me through watery lashes.

Her voice comes out broken. “Why do you hate me?”

I shoot straight up, heart racing. My room is pitch black. Not a single shade of light filters in.

She didn’t say that... she didn’t ask.

It doesn’t matter, though. The question is already eating at me.

Why do I hate her? I don’t. That’s the f*****g problem. I don’t hate Lia Preston. I notice her. I watch her. If Misty, Josh, or Declan ever found out, I’d be just as much of a target as she is.

There was this one time last year when I heard her in the auditorium, alone. Everyone else had already gone home. I was walking past and heard her rehearsing a monologue. She repeated it over and over again, trying to perfect it. I watched, hidden in the back for maybe ten minutes. I couldn’t believe how good she was, way too good to be invisible. There’s nothing I can do, so for now, I’ll keep playing the part. I’ll walk past her as if she’s not there, pretending not to see her. I do, though. I see her.

Weakness makes you a target, and caring gets you hurt. It's always been drilled in me to not be weak and not to care too much. Maybe I should’ve listened.

The girl I’m supposed to not give two damns about is stuck in my head. Tomorrow, she’ll have to walk into rehearsal as if nothing happened. She’ll have to pretend she’s okay with it. To make it worse, Mrs. Low posted the official cast list tonight. Guess whose name is sitting at the top, listed as the lead.

Lia Preston.

Misty’s name is buried under a minor role, not the lead.

Fucking great, she’ll never shut up about this tomorrow.

I stare at it for so long my eyes start to cross. My thumb hovers over Misty's message thread and I’m half tempted to text her. Give her a heads up and ask her why the f**k she signed Lia up in the first place. I don't, though. She'll spin it, saying the cast list is rigged, or that Mrs. Low is playing favorites. I drag a hand through my hair, jaw clenched.

Why the hell can’t I let this go? I need to stop thinking about her and caring, but I can’t.

I toss my phone onto the floor and sit up. My room is silent, the kind of silence that makes everything louder. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. I scoot off my bed and walk over to the French doors. I step out onto the balcony, lighting a joint.

I lean onto the railing, letting my elbows rest against the cool metal, and close my eyes. The longer I stand here, the more pissed off I’m getting. Misty’s going to drive me up a f*****g wall. I might skip school tomorrow, but if I do that, I won’t be able to see what happens in rehearsal. I have to watch, even if it’s from the back, hidden.

I take a long hit off my joint, lowering my head.

What if I don’t want to stand by anymore? f**k.

I can’t stand this. I feel so damn torn when it shouldn’t matter. I can’t act any different, because if I do... if I even hesitate for a second, they’ll notice. All of them. Declan, Josh, and Misty. I take one final hit from my joint, slowly exhaling, and flick it out. I walk back inside, closing the doors behind me. I flop back down on my bed, sinking into the pillows. My eyes scan the room as my mind drifts again. For now, I’ll stay quiet and play it cool. At least that’s what I tell myself as I pull the blanket over me.

Lia’s face pops into my head again, my d**k hardening.

She’s already under my skin, and I never gave her permission.