Chapter 4
870 Words
I stood frozen in the center of my bedroom, the cool night air rushing in through the open balcony door, mocking me. The towel lay forgotten at my feet.
“f**k, I think I lied.”
His words echoed in the quiet room, loud and jarring. He had promised he wouldn’t touch me. He had promised he would look and be done. But the raw, unfiltered panic—or was it hunger?—in his eyes right before he vanished over the railing didn’t look like a guy who was "done." It looked like a guy who was coming apart at the seams.
Slowly, my knees gave out, and I sank onto the edge of my bed. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I pulled my knees to my chest, shivering as the adrenaline finally began to fade, leaving behind a hollow, confusing ache.
I hated Ryan Fitzgerald. I hated his arrogance, his casual cruelty, his perfect golden-boy life, and the way he let his friends treat me like a joke. So why was my skin still tingling where his lips had grazed my chest? Why did my bedroom suddenly feel entirely too empty?
Turning to my side, I grabbed my phone. No new messages.
I stared at the screen for a full ten minutes, typing out a dozen different texts. What is wrong with you? Stay away from my house. What did you mean?
In the end, I deleted them all, threw the phone onto my nightstand, and buried my face in my pillow. I didn't sleep a wink.
The next morning, the bags under my eyes were heavy enough to look like bruises. I wore an oversized, chunky knit sweater—swallowing my frame entirely—and pinned my hair back into a tight, no-nonsense bun. I needed my armor today.
When I walked through the front doors of the school, my anxiety was dialed up to an eleven. Every laugh in the hallway felt like it was directed at me. Every whisper made me want to turn around and sprint back to my car.
"Hey, Kay," Maxton's voice broke through my panic as he fell into step beside me. He looked at me closely, frowning. "You look like you got run over by a semi. Are you okay? Did that jerk Ryan do something after I left yesterday?"
"No," I lied quickly, keeping my eyes glued to the linoleum floor. "Just stayed up too late studying. I'm fine, Max."
"If he bothers you again, I'll—"
"Don't," I interrupted, a little too sharply. "Just... let it go, please. I have it under control."
Max didn't look convinced, but thankfully, he let it drop as we reached my locker. I spun the dial, my hands shaking slightly, and pulled the metal door open. I grabbed my AP English textbook, desperately wishing the day was already over.
"Well, look who it is. The invisible girl decides to show up."
My stomach dropped. I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. Sophie Lexington was leaning against the locker next to mine, a cruel, perfect smile plastered on her face. Her glossy blonde hair bounced as she tilted her head, inspecting her French manicure.
"I don't want any trouble, Sophie," I said softly, keeping my voice level.
"Oh, I know you don't. Piggies don't usually fight back," she chuckled, stepping closer until the scent of her expensive, sickly-sweet perfume filled my space. "I just wanted to give you a little reminder. Ryan told me about the tutoring thing. He thinks it's hilarious how pathetic you are, passing out over a little attention in class."
My chest tightened. He told her? Of course he did. Why wouldn't he?
"Just make sure his grades get up so he can stay on the field," Sophie sneered, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "But don't get any ideas. A guy like Ryan doesn't look at girls like you unless he's looking for a punchline. Remember your place."
She patted my shoulder condescendingly and sauntered away, her cheer skirt fluttering.
I stood there, the familiar sting of humiliation burning the back of my throat. I was an i***t. I had actually let myself think, even for a second last night, that there was something real happening in his eyes. He was just playing a game. It was all a twisted joke to him.
I slammed my locker shut, turning around to head to class—and froze.
Standing at the end of the hall, surrounded by his usual crowd, was Ryan. He was wearing his varsity jacket, laughing at something Tyler said. But the moment my locker door banged shut, his eyes snapped directly to mine.
The laughter died on his lips.
He didn't smirk. He didn't wink. He just stared at me, his dark brown eyes intense, heavy, and completely unreadable. The boy from the balcony was gone, replaced by the school's golden quarterback, but the tension radiating off him across the crowded hallway was suffocating.
I locked my jaw, forced all the emotion out of my face, and looked right through him.
If he wanted a game, I wasn't going to play it anymore.
- Writer
