LockwoodHighRoyalty
1707 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Not even for a second.
That stupid phone call replayed in my head all night like a broken record.
You really think Bryan loves you?
You should ask him where he was last Friday night.
Every single time I closed my eyes, I heard the girl’s voice again. Calm. Confident. Like she knew something I didn’t.
Which was ridiculous.
Bryan loved me.
Didn’t he?
I sat up in bed around three in the morning and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. My screen lit up instantly with dozens of notifications.
Instagram tags.
Cheer group messages.
Snapchat streaks.
And three unread texts from Bryan.
Bry ❤️
You alive, sleeping beauty?
Bry ❤️
Practice tomorrow after school. Don’t ditch me.
Bry ❤️
Love you.
I stared at the last message longer than necessary.
Then I typed back.
Me
Love you too.
But my fingers hesitated before pressing send.
That had never happened before.
Ever.
The next morning, Lockwood High looked exactly the same.
Rich kids laughing in designer clothes.
Luxury cars lining the parking lot.
Football players acting like celebrities.
Yet somehow everything felt… off.
Like someone had tilted my entire world slightly sideways.
I stepped out of my car and adjusted the strap of my backpack while trying to ignore the knot twisting in my stomach.
“Crystal!”
Before I could even turn around, Trish slammed into me dramatically.
“Why do you look like someone stole your inheritance?” she asked.
I forced a laugh. “I’m tired.”
“You’re always tired.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“That’s what best friends are for.”
Trish Beaumont had been my friend since sophomore year. Blonde, loud, chaotic, and allergic to silence.
People thought we were opposites.
They weren’t wrong.
But somehow it worked.
“You coming to Ashley’s beach party tomorrow?” she asked as we walked through the school entrance.
“Maybe.”
She stopped walking immediately.
“Maybe?” she gasped like I’d committed a crime. “Crystal Rodriguez skipping a party? Are you sick?”
“I said maybe.”
“Oh my God.” She touched my forehead dramatically. “You are sick.”
I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, a familiar arm wrapped around my waist from behind.
“There’s my girl.”
Bryan.
My heart betrayed me instantly.
Even after the weird phone call.
Even after the doubt.
One look at him and my chest still fluttered.
Pathetic.
Bryan kissed my cheek lazily before stealing my iced coffee.
“Hey!”
“You love me.”
“Give it back.”
He grinned before handing it over.
And just like that, people started staring.
Everywhere we went, attention followed us naturally. It had been that way for years.
Some girls admired us.
Others hated us.
Most people were simply obsessed.
“Power couple incoming,” someone whispered nearby.
“Goals,” another girl sighed.
Bryan smirked at me knowingly.
“You hear that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Your ego is already too big.”
“Says the cheer captain.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m actually humble.”
He barked out a laugh while Trish pretended to gag beside us.
“You two are disgustingly in love,” she complained.
Normally I would’ve laughed.
Normally I would’ve agreed.
But those words hit differently today.
Disgustingly in love.
Was Bryan really?
Or had I imagined everything?
First period dragged endlessly.
I barely heard anything my Literature teacher said as I doodled mindlessly in my notebook.
My thoughts kept drifting back to the phone call.
Should I tell Bryan?
No.
That would sound insane.
“Hey.”
I looked up suddenly.
Nick stood beside my desk holding a stack of papers.
I blinked in surprise.
Up close, he looked taller than I remembered.
Really tall.
His dark hoodie hung loosely over his lean frame, and his messy black hair kept falling into his eyes.
“You dropped this yesterday,” he said quietly.
I looked down.
My notebook.
“Oh.”
I hadn’t even realized it was missing.
“Thanks.”
He nodded once.
Then started walking away.
“Wait,” I called before thinking.
He paused.
“You’re Nicholas, right?”
Most people called him weird. Quiet. Invisible.
But standing this close, he didn’t seem weird at all.
Just… guarded.
“Nick,” he corrected softly.
“Right. Nick.”
An awkward silence stretched between us.
“I didn’t know we had Literature together,” I admitted.
That sounded rude the second it left my mouth.
His mouth twitched slightly like he was trying not to laugh.
“Most people don’t notice me.”
Something about the way he said it made guilt crawl through me.
Before I could respond, the teacher cleared her throat loudly.
“Miss Rodriguez. Mr. Pitcher. Sit down or continue flirting outside.”
The entire class burst into laughter.
My cheeks heated instantly.
Nick muttered a quiet “sorry” before heading back to his seat near the window.
And for some reason…
I watched him the entire way there.
By lunchtime, the hallway buzzed louder than usual.
Football season was approaching fast, which meant Lockwood students suddenly acted like the world revolved around touchdowns.
Spoiler alert:
It did.
Especially if your boyfriend was Bryan Carter.
“You coming to practice later?” Bryan asked while tossing grapes into his mouth across the cafeteria table.
“Cheer practice?”
“No, underwater basket weaving.”
I kicked him under the table.
“Ow.”
“You deserved that.”
The football team laughed while Bryan rubbed his leg dramatically.
“You’re abusive.”
“You love it.”
“True.”
His eyes softened slightly when he looked at me.
And there it was again.
That warmth.
That certainty.
No way a guy could fake looking at someone like that… right?
I hated myself for even questioning it.
Suddenly, Ashley squealed loudly from across the table.
“Oh my God, prom committee applications are out!”
Instant chaos erupted.
Girls immediately started talking over each other.
“Prom theme better not suck this year.”
“If they choose masquerade again, I’m dropping out.”
“I swear if Crystal and Bryan don’t win prom king and queen—”
“Who else would?”
Trish snorted. “Exactly.”
Bryan leaned toward me smugly.
“You hear that, baby? We’re famous.”
“We already knew that.”
He laughed softly before kissing my forehead.
And for one tiny moment…
The doubt disappeared.
Cheer practice ended nearly two hours later.
I collapsed onto the bleachers dramatically while fanning myself with my shirt.
“I’m dying,” I groaned.
“You say that every practice,” Ashley replied.
“Because every practice feels like attempted murder.”
The girls laughed.
Coach Ramirez clapped loudly. “Again tomorrow! Sharp six a.m. Don’t be late!”
Collective groans filled the gym.
As everyone started packing up, my phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number.
My stomach dropped instantly.
I answered cautiously.
“Hello?”
Heavy breathing echoed softly.
Then—
“You should really stop trusting people so easily.”
My chest tightened.
“Who is this?”
Silence.
“Hello?!”
Click.
The call ended.
“What happened?” Trish asked immediately.
I forced my expression neutral.
“Nothing. Spam call.”
But my hands were shaking.
The football field lights glowed brightly against the darkening evening sky as I walked outside.
Practice was still ongoing.
Bryan stood near the center field laughing with his teammates while sweat clung to his skin.
God.
He looked unfairly attractive.
I leaned against the fence quietly, watching him.
Then suddenly—
A girl ran onto the field.
Long blonde hair. Tiny shorts. Red lipstick.
Katrine Woods.
My smile faded instantly.
Katrine and I had never liked each other.
Correction.
Katrine hated me.
And she never bothered hiding it.
She walked straight toward Bryan confidently before whispering something into his ear.
He laughed.
Then she touched his chest.
My stomach twisted.
It wasn’t even the touch that bothered me.
It was Bryan not moving away.
“You okay?”
I nearly jumped.
Nick stood beside the fence holding a duffel bag.
“I’m fine.”
His eyes flickered toward the field briefly.
Toward Bryan.
Toward Katrine.
Then back to me.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m okay.”
The sharpness in my voice surprised even me.
Nick raised both hands slightly. “Alright.”
Guilt hit instantly.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m just stressed.”
He nodded quietly.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then—
“You deserve people who don’t make you question yourself.”
I froze.
“What?”
But before he could answer—
Bryan jogged over.
“There’s my favorite girl.”
His arm wrapped around my waist naturally while he kissed my temple.
Nick stepped back immediately.
The air suddenly felt weird.
Tense.
Bryan glanced between us.
“You know Pitcher?”
“We have Literature together,” I answered quickly.
Nick nodded once.
Bryan barely acknowledged him afterward.
“Coach wants us back,” he muttered dismissively before looking at me again. “You waiting for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Give me ten.”
He kissed me quickly and jogged back toward the field.
Nick watched him leave silently.
Then he looked at me.
Really looked at me.
Like he was trying to decide whether to say something.
“What?” I asked quietly.
He hesitated.
“You ever feel like everyone at this school is pretending?”
I frowned slightly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before he could answer—
Someone screamed from the parking lot.
Heads turned instantly.
A crowd had started gathering near the entrance gates.
“What happened?” I whispered.
Students rushed toward the commotion excitedly.
Nick’s expression darkened suddenly.
And then I saw it.
A giant poster taped across the school wall.
Bright red letters.
Huge enough for everyone to read.
My blood ran cold.
Because written across the center was:
ASK BRYAN CARTER WHAT REALLY HAPPENS AFTER FOOTBALL PRACTICE.
- Writer
