The uncle

chapter 10

Chapter 10

Thursday morning arrived with a sky smeared in gray, the kind that made everything feel slower — like the world was holding its breath. Betty stepped out of the car, shouldering her bag and pulling her hoodie up over her braids. She’d slept badly. Again. Dean’s invitation still echoed in her head, but it was Chris’s words from the night before that had settled in her bones like cold water.

She spotted Dean waiting by the main doors, leaned against a pillar like he had all the time in the world. His grin appeared the second he saw her.

“There she is,” he said, falling in step beside her as they walked in. “You survive yesterday? Or did the ghosts of private school try to convert you?”

Betty smirked. “Just barely. Someone tried to explain lacrosse to me for thirty minutes. I still don’t think it’s a real sport.”

Dean clutched his chest. “And I was starting to believe you belonged here.”

They made their way down the hall, dodging students and stray flyers. Somewhere behind them, a girl whispered Betty’s name — not loudly, but with just enough venom to notice. Betty kept walking.

At her locker, Dean leaned beside her. “So. Have you made your final ruling?”

“On what?”

“The party. Friday night. Yes or no?”

She hesitated, her fingers spinning the dial on her locker slowly. “I said I’d think about it.”

“You’ve had a whole twenty-four hours,” he said, mock serious. “The people need answers.”

Betty opened her locker and pulled out a textbook. “You’re very persistent.”

Dean grinned. “Only with things I really want.”

That made her pause. She turned slightly to face him, searching his expression for any sign of a joke. But he just looked at her, steady and playful, and maybe a little too sincere.

Before she could respond, movement caught her eye. Down the hallway, near the science wing, Chris stood by his locker. He wasn’t looking at her — not directly — but his eyes flicked up just as she looked his way. Their gazes locked for half a second before he turned back to his books like she didn’t exist.

Her stomach twisted.

She felt his silence all day.

In history class, he sat three rows ahead of her but never turned around. In the cafeteria, he passed by her table with Dean without stopping. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

And she hated that it did.

Just as Betty shut her locker, a familiar voice called out from behind.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you since second period.”

Tasha walked up, her braids pulled into a high bun, her bright green hoodie a splash of color in the gray hallway. She looped an arm around Betty’s and gave Dean a once-over with a sly smile.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Juice Box himself.”

Dean grinned. “You wound me, Tasha. I thought we had a bond.”

“We did. But then you started hogging my girl.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “He’s harmless.”

Tasha snorted. “Yeah, that’s what the raccoons say before they bite.”

Dean gave a mock bow and wandered off with a dramatic sigh. “I know when I’m not wanted. Later, ladies.”

Once he was out of earshot, Tasha nudged her. “Okay. Spill. You and Dean. Is this a thing?”

“No,” Betty said too quickly. “We’re just… friends. He invited me to a party tomorrow night, that’s all.”

Tasha’s eyes lit up. “Wait — Zoe’s party?”

Betty nodded.

“You have to go. That party is legit. Backyard lights, a bonfire, killer playlists. It’s like the only night this town doesn’t feel like a retirement village.”

Betty hesitated, the edges of her good mood shrinking. “I don’t know. Chris saw us talking again. He’s been weird all day.”

Tasha’s expression shifted slightly. “Chris as in… the step-uncle?”

Betty gave a small nod.

Tasha tilted her head. “Okay, first of all — the way he looks at you sometimes? Not very uncle-y.”

Betty opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn’t know how to answer that.

Tasha softened. “Look, I’m not saying he’s in love with you or anything. But something’s clearly going on. And whatever it is, don’t let it mess up your life.”

Betty leaned her head against the locker for a moment. “It’s already messy.”

“Then come to the party with me,” Tasha said gently. “Not with Dean. Not for him. Come for you.”

Betty looked at her, the quiet hallway buzzing around them. And for the first time, she didn’t feel quite so alone in it all.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll come.”

Tasha beamed. “That’s what I’m talking about. Now let’s find you something cute to wear.”

Friday night came faster than expected.

Betty stood in front of the mirror in Tasha’s room, holding up two outfits.

“This one says ‘cute and classy,’” Tasha said, pointing to the skirt and blouse combo. “The other one says ‘come ruin my life.’ Pick wisely.”

Betty laughed, tossing the second option on the bed. “Classy it is.”

Tasha, with her braids up in a high bun and a face full of glitter, leaned back on the bed. “So, this Dean guy... you into him, or are we still pretending you don’t care about a certain blue-eyed mood swing?”

“He’s just my step-uncle,” Betty muttered, applying gloss. “And I’m not into him.”

“Sure. And I only watch reality TV for the plot.”

Betty shot her a look in the mirror, but Tasha held up her hands in mock surrender.

“I’m just saying,” she added, “Chris stares at you like you owe him answers and a heartbeat.”

Dean was waiting outside when they came down. He greeted them both politely, handed Betty a single rose, and raised his eyebrows when he saw Tasha’s teasing grin.

“Don’t mind me,” Tasha said. “I’m just here to make sure she doesn’t trip in those shoes.”

The party was already packed. Music blasted, colored lights spun across the yard, and Betty immediately regretted the heels. But Dean was easy company — he introduced her to people, grabbed her a soda, and even held her purse when she needed to reapply lip gloss.

Tasha drifted into a group of friends nearby but kept casting Betty a knowing glance now and then.

Then, Betty felt it.

That unmistakable pull.

She turned, and there he was — Chris — across the room, leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand, his jaw tense, his gaze locked on her. He wasn’t pretending not to watch. He didn’t care if she noticed.

Betty took a deep breath and turned back to Dean.

She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the center of the crowd. “Let’s dance.”

Dean smiled and didn’t ask questions. They moved together to the music, easy and fun — but Betty could feel Chris watching. Burning.

Tasha appeared beside her briefly, dancing with a grin.

“Smile wider, girl,” she whispered, “he’s watching you like you just committed murder.”

Betty laughed louder than she needed to, letting her arm rest around Dean’s shoulder. Dean leaned in close.

“I don’t think your almost-uncle likes this,” he said lightly.

“He’s not my uncle,” she snapped — too fast.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Touchy.”

Tasha danced away with a smirk.

Dean added, his tone more serious, “You sure you’re not dancing with me to get a reaction?”

Betty met his eyes. “I’m not using you. I like being around you.”

That seemed to settle him. He smiled, and they kept dancing.

But a few minutes later, Betty glanced around — and Chris was gone.

Just... gone.

And somehow, that ruined the rest of her night.

She was so nervous when Dean dropped Tasha and her back home.

“ Goodnight.” Tasha got out of the car.

Dean rushed to open her door. He was so sweet. She smiled at him. “ Thanks, I had a good time.”

“ I hope the party impressed.” Dean smiled.

“I liked it.”

Tasha laughed “ I guess this is my cue to leave.” And she walked away.

Dean seemed uncomfortable.

“ I have to go in”. Betty said.

Dean leaned in and kissed her lips. It was a quick kiss. Betty just stood there, she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“ I am sorry.” Dean whispered.

“ Don’t be.” She leaned in and lightly kissed him back.

Dean smiled widely.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and walked to the house.

Betty closed her door gently behind her, the quiet click sounding louder than usual in the silence of her room.

She took two steps toward her bed and stopped cold.

Chris was sitting at her window.

The moonlight cast a pale glow across his face as he stared out into the driveway — the very spot where Dean had just kissed her. His jaw was tight, arms folded, one leg up on the seat. He didn’t turn when she entered.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, the words coming out harsher than intended.

Still, no movement. Just his voice, low and clipped. “So that’s what we’re doing now? Letting guys kiss you on the driveway like some teenage romcom?”

She folded her arms, the weight of the evening crashing down. “I didn’t realize my love life was your business.”

He finally turned to her. His eyes were darker than usual — unreadable but intense. “It’s not.”

“Then leave.”

Chris stood slowly, walking toward her with unhurried steps. “You think Dean actually sees you?” he asked. “Really sees you? Or does he just see some girl who makes him feel like a hero?”

Betty stiffened. “And you think you do?”

He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze.

“I know I do,” he said, voice softer now. “That’s the difference.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Something shifted in his eyes — something vulnerable flickering just long enough to make her chest ache.

“I don’t like you,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“I know.”

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed or mocking — not this time. It was slow, searching, like he hated himself for wanting it but couldn’t help it anyway. His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as his lips moved over hers like he meant every second of it.

It was nothing like Dean’s kiss. Dean’s had been sweet, safe.

This was something else entirely.

By the time he pulled back, Betty’s heart was pounding in her ears. Chris looked at her for a long moment, then stepped away.

“Don’t read into it,” he said quietly. “It didn’t mean anything.”

But he couldn’t look at her when he said it.

He walked out, leaving her standing there — lips tingling, knees weak, and completely unsure of everything she thought she

knew.