The Name Hayes
804 Words
The first thing Chloe noticed when she woke up was the rain.
It tapped softly against the dorm window, steady and gray, blurring the campus lights into glowing smudges beyond the glass. For one whole second, she almost let herself stay there beneath the blanket, warm and still, pretending the world did not expect anything from her.
Then her phone alarm buzzed.
Chloe reached out and slapped it silent.
“Rude,” she mumbled.
Across the room, her roommate, Mia, groaned from under a pile of blankets.
“If you go running in this weather, I’m reporting you.”
“To who?”
“The campus police. The weather department. A priest. Someone.”
Chloe pushed herself upright and rubbed her eyes. “It’s just rain.”
“It’s sky water with an attitude.”
Chloe snorted, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
Mia peeked one eye open. “You have a problem.”
“I have practice.”
“You have a deep emotional attachment to suffering.”
“That too.”
Mia buried herself back under her blanket. “Tell Lucas I said he’s also insane.”
Chloe paused halfway to grabbing her running shoes. “Why would I tell Lucas?”
“Because he’ll be there.”
“You don’t know that.”
Mia’s blanket shifted just enough for one suspicious eye to reappear. “Please. That boy would run through a tornado if you were waiting at the other end with coffee and emotional unavailability.”
Chloe felt heat creep up her neck.
“I’m not emotionally unavailable.”
Mia laughed so loudly Chloe threw a sock at her.
“Go run, Clo. Denial burns calories.”
Chloe muttered something unkind under her breath, but she was smiling as she pulled on her shoes.
By the time she reached the athletic center, the rain had turned into a misty drizzle that clung to her hair and lashes. The track glistened beneath the stadium lights.
Lucas Bennett was already there.
Of course he was.
He stood near the bleachers with his hood up, shaking rain from his sleeves like a deeply offended cat.
“You look miserable,” Chloe called.
He looked up. “I am miserable.”
“You could’ve stayed in bed.”
“And let you think you’re tougher than me? Never.”
“I am tougher than you.”
“Tiny, but delusional.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Call me tiny again and I’ll trip you.”
Lucas grinned. “There she is.”
They started jogging together, their shoes splashing softly against the wet track. For a few minutes, neither spoke. The rain filled the silence, and Chloe let herself sink into the rhythm of breathing, running, moving.
Lucas eventually glanced at her.
“You okay?”
She hated how easily he asked that.
Not casually.
Not politely.
Like he actually wanted the answer.
“I’m fine.”
“That means no.”
“Maybe it means fine.”
“With you? Never.”
She huffed. “You’re annoying.”
“Known fact.”
They rounded the curve.
Chloe kept her eyes forward. “My mom called again last night.”
Lucas slowed half a step. “About the scholarship?”
“Yeah.”
“What did she say?”
Chloe swallowed.
The conversation had been short but sharp. Victoria had not yelled. She rarely needed to. Her voice had been controlled, clipped, polished like a blade.
“Chloe Elaine, I’ve thought about it, and I don’t want you attending that reception.”
Not “I’m worried.”
Not “Let’s discuss it.”
I don’t want you attending.
As if Chloe were still a child sitting at the kitchen table, hands folded, waiting to be told what she was allowed to want.
“She said I shouldn’t go,” Chloe said.
Lucas’s jaw tightened. “Why?”
“She said it wasn’t practical.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“She said people like Hayes don’t care about students like me.”
Lucas stopped running.
Chloe made it three more steps before she realized and turned around.
He stood in the rain, expression dark.
“What?” she asked.
“People like Hayes?”
Chloe shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “Rich people. Powerful people. I don’t know.”
Lucas looked away for a second, something unreadable passing over his face.
“What?” she repeated.
“My family knows the Hayes family.”
The words landed strangely.
Chloe blinked.
“You know them?”
“Sort of. My dad and Alexander Hayes are friends.”
Her stomach dipped.
Of course.
Of course Lucas Bennett, with his polished manners and expensive running shoes and quiet confidence, would know people like Alexander Hayes.
Something sour curled beneath her ribs.
She hated it immediately.
- Writer
