Chapter 45
656 Words
Lucas’s POV
By the second day, the whispers started dying down.
Turns out, even the drama-hungry students at Ridgeway had a short attention span. A new couple got caught kissing behind the gym, someone spilled milk all over a teacher’s laptop, and just like that—boom—spotlight off us.
Good. Because even though I joked about it, I didn’t like the way they looked at Alice.
She didn’t deserve it.
She worked too hard, kept to herself, and somehow managed to stay unbothered even when people were loud.
But I noticed things.
How she walked faster in the halls. How her eyes flicked away every time someone laughed too loud behind her.
So I started saying things. Loud things.
Not about her—about everything else.
I mocked the popular guys’ haircuts. Teased Henry about his broken shoelace. Picked on myself just enough to keep the attention *off* her.
They got the message.
The next few days were quieter.
Alice didn’t say anything, but when I passed her a stack of notes before class—"for the project," I said—she actually looked at me for more than two seconds.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“Sure,” I replied. “That’s what friends do, right?”
She rolled her eyes—but the corner of her mouth twitched again.
And I realized something:
I didn’t need a crowd.
I didn’t need attention.
I just wanted her to keep looking at me like that.
Even if it was just for a second.
Even if it was just *secret friends.*For now.
Later that week, we were in the library again. Our “official” reason? The project.
But we’d already finished the hard part. All that was left was polishing lines and deciding who would read what in front of the class. Yet neither of us rushed to leave.
Alice was flipping through a copy of the play when I asked, “You okay?”
She looked up slowly, surprised.
“Why?”
“You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m always quiet.”
“Not with me,” I said, smirking.
That earned me a full eye roll, but she didn’t deny it.
She closed the book and sat back in her chair. “It’s just been a long week.”
“Because of the gossip?”
“Partly. But also... my dad.”
I tilted my head. “Is he okay?”
She hesitated, fingers tightening slightly on the book. “He’s trying to be. It’s been rough, especially since Mum passed. Sometimes he tries too hard to act normal, and I just wish he’d let himself rest.”
It was the most personal thing she’d ever told me.
No walls. No sarcasm.
Just truth.
I nodded slowly. “My dad’s... weird too, but in the opposite way. He always seems too calm, like nothing touches him. It drives me insane.”
That got a tiny smile out of her. “Yeah, but at least your family’s stable.”
I shrugged. “Stable isn’t always peaceful.”
There was silence after that—not awkward. Just quiet. Comfortable. The kind of silence where you don’t feel the need to fill every space.
She glanced at me, brows lifted. “Are you seriously being deep right now?”
I smirked. “Shakespeare’s rubbing off on me.”
Alice laughed softly, and it wasn’t guarded this time. It was real.
And for a second, it felt like we weren’t rivals. Weren’t pretending. Just two people who finally
stopped hiding.
I leaned forward. “Hey, Harper?”
She raised a brow. “What now?”
I tapped the script. “Next time, I’m picking the scene. Something tragic. So you can’t mock my
delivery.”
She smirked. “You *are* dramatic.”
“And you’re impossible.”
“But you still showed up,” she said.
“Every time,” I replied.
And I meant it.
- Writer
