Chapter Three
1280 Words
Some secrets don't stay buried—especially when the people keeping them would kill to protect them.
⸻
I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Skylar's lipstick—crimson, cruel—smeared across Reed Carter's throat like a bloodstain. I heard her moan, raw and breathy, bouncing off the cold metal beneath the bleachers. I felt his gaze sear into me—sharp, unreadable, like his eyes had carved something into my skin I'd never be able to wash off.
And then that look. The annoying yet signature smirk I was becoming accustomed to.
Like I'd just handed him a loaded weapon and dared him to pull the trigger.
Monday morning hit like a punishment from the universe.
I walked through the school gates with my heart still bruising against my ribs, every breath thick with dread. My limbs felt heavy, like I was dragging the weight of something no one else could see. Shame. Fear. Rage. All wrapped up and stuffed beneath my hoodie.
And there they were.
Reed stood by his locker—cool and careless, his usual throne of half-admirers circling like moths. He was all crooked charm and lazy posture, one foot crossed over the other, arms folded like he had all the time in the world. Skylar hung on the arm of his best friend, Cameron, her perfect curls bouncing with every laugh, her smile so rehearsed it hurt to look at. Like nothing happened. Like her lips hadn't just ruined everything.
And me?
I was the girl who knew too much. The glitch in Willow Ridge's carefully curated matrix. The one the walls had started whispering about. The one the floor tiles now seemed to follow, murmuring secrets in a language only guilt understands.
I kept my head down as I walked past them, my stomach clenched, my throat tight. At my locker, I fumbled the combination twice before the door creaked open.
Then I saw it. A single sheet of paper, folded cleanly down the center, placed neatly like a dare.
Come to the football field after last bell.
Don't make me come find you.
—R.C.
I froze.
R.C. Reed Carter.
My heart kicked up so hard it drowned out every other sound. I stood there for a full minute, the paper trembling in my grip. My eyes devoured the words again. And again. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
What did he want?
What was I supposed to do?
Every instinct screamed to toss it. Rip it up. Pretend I hadn't seen a thing. But my hands wouldn't obey. My body had already betrayed me by standing still.
I looked up—to find him watching me, maybe. But he was gone. All of them were.
⸻
By the time the final bell rang, my heart was already clawing its way up my throat. I walked through the empty halls like a ghost, nerves thrumming with every step, pulse thudding in my ears. The farther I got from the building, the louder the silence became.
The football field was drenched in gold sunlight. Empty. Quiet. The bleachers stood like looming judges in the distance, shadows stretching long and watchful behind me.
He was already there.
Reed stood near the edge of the field, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled to his elbows, shirt slightly wrinkled like he'd just shrugged off the truth and didn't care where it landed. His hair caught the light, making the darker parts of him look even darker.
He looked bored, like he wasn't the center of the storm. Like none of it mattered.
"Peteman," he called out without turning. "Didn't think you'd show."
"I almost didn't," I answered, my voice steady even though I wasn't.
He turned, slow and easy, with a smirk tugging at his lips. "But you did."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Is this the part where you threaten me?"
He took a step forward, expression unreadable. "No. This is the part where I save you."
I blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"
He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne—sharp, expensive, and wrong. It clung to the air between us like tension. Like trouble.
"You saw something you weren't supposed to see," he said. "Something that could ruin a lot of people."
"I didn't tell anyone," I said quickly, a little too quickly.
"Yet."
His tone dropped—low and lethal. "But let's say you slip. Let's say Skylar finds out you're the reason her boyfriend dumps her. Or her best friend turns on her. Or this whole place burns to the damn ground."
"I'm not the one who—"
"No," he cut me off. "But you're the one holding the match."
My breath hitched. The world narrowed until there was only him and the crushing air between us. I hated that he was right. That I was the liability here.
"I'm not here to threaten you, Zara," he said, voice soft now. So soft it made the hair on the back of my neck rise. "I'm here to make a deal."
My chest tightened. "A deal?"
"You stay quiet. You keep my name—and hers—out of your journal. In return..." He tilted his head, smirk still intact. "I make sure your little second chance doesn't turn into a third strike."
I stiffened. "What makes you think I need your help? And how do you even know about my journal?"
His smile widened, wolfish and slow. "Oh, Zara. I know everything about you."
I flinched at the sound of my name on his lips. His eyes glittered with amusement and something sharper—something crueler.
"The expulsion. The transfer. The party that ended in handcuffs. You think no one in Savannah talks? You're cute, Peteman, but you're not invisible."
My chest caved inward. I had done everything to bury that past. My family moved over 500 miles just so I could start fresh, so I could breathe without people whispering behind my back.
And yet, here he was—dragging it all out like it was common knowledge.
He took another step forward, and I felt myself shrink without meaning to. "And if you think Willow Ridge forgives girls like you, you've got a lot to learn."
My throat burned with words I couldn't say. He wasn't wrong. This school didn't offer grace. It offered gossip. It feasted on fear. And girls like me? We were the main course.
"So what's your offer?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
"Protection," he said. "Access. A clean slate. All you have to do is stay silent."
"And if I don't?"
He stepped back like it didn't matter. Like he wasn't holding my fate in his hand. "Then I can't promise the whispers won't start. That people won't know what you saw. That Skylar won't decide you're trying to steal her boyfriend."
"I'm not," I snapped, fists clenched.
"But you could be."
His words cut like broken glass, each one sharper than the last. Reed leaned in one last time, his mouth close to my ear.
"It's not about what's true, Zara. It's about what they believe."
And then—just like that—he turned and walked away, the sun catching on his back like it crowned him king of this cursed little kingdom.
I stood there alone, the paper still crushed in my hand, my heart thudding like it wanted out of my chest.
And that was when I realized—
I'd been dragged into a game I never agreed to play.
And the worst part?
I had no idea what the rules were.
- Writer
