CHAPTER 2
753 Words
Chris stormed across the court like a bullet released from a silent gun, his boots smearing the rose petals he had mopped around just minutes ago. He wasn’t thinking—he just knew he had to get Anna away from Franklin. Away from that kiss.
But halfway there, a hand slammed into his chest.
Logan Sykes, Franklin’s self-appointed bodyguard and certified ego-inflator, blocked his path. The guy was built like a vending machine, all bulk and zero intelligence.
SMACK!
The slap came without hesitation—louder, harder than before. Chris’s face twisted from the impact, a fresh trail of blood streaking down from his lip.
Logan glared down at him. “Didn’t I clearly explain this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment for Frank? You’re a cleaner, Elwood. A cleaner. You mop up our sweat. That’s your job. Not ruining a $20,000 proposal setup.”
The crowd gasped—probably more at the necklace in Franklin’s hand than the slap itself.
Chris straightened, slow and eerily calm, like a man who’d been hit enough to stop reacting. He wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his sleeve, staring up at Logan. “Even if I’m a cleaner, this gym’s my responsibility. You ruin it, I don’t get paid.”
Logan barked a laugh. “Dude, you get paid in crumbs and cafeteria coupons. Relax.”
Chris didn’t move. Didn’t yell. His eyes were calm, but something behind them flickered.
From the crowd, a voice giggled, “Wait—did he say he works here? Like… this is his job?”
The laughter spread like wildfire.
“He cleans for money?”
“Oh my god, Anna, is this the guy who’s been following you around campus?” someone sneered.
Anna stiffened. Her eyes darted across the sea of students. Some were already recording. She shifted behind Franklin slightly, her fingers tugging nervously at her skirt.
Chris turned to her. “Anna,” he said, voice low, “why are you here? With him? You’re my girlfriend.”
The crowd erupted again—this time louder, meaner.
“His girlfriend?!”
“No way.”
“Is this a comedy skit?”
Anna’s mouth opened, then shut. For a moment, her face twisted—regret? Guilt? But it vanished as fast as it came.
She exhaled through her nose and crossed her arms. “Chris… I never said yes to you. You were just there. I was nice to you because I felt bad. You’re always so… desperate.”
Chris blinked. “I bought you that bracelet yesterday. With my last paycheck.”
Anna raised an eyebrow. “It was fake silver. I gave it to my roommate’s cat to play with.”
The court howled. Franklin whistled dramatically. “Yikes. Even Garfield has better taste in jewelry.”
Chris’s jaw tightened, but his voice never rose. “So you used me.”
“No, Chris,” Anna said with a small smirk. “I ignored you. You imagined everything else.”
Someone shouted from the crowd, “Plot twist! The janitor’s got a soap opera going on!”
Franklin stepped forward now, puffing out his chest. “Look, Elwood. You’re embarrassing yourself and your… what, $8 sneakers? Seriously, did you get those from the lost-and-found box?”
Laughter again. Ruthless. Ugly.
Franklin then reached into his pocket and flicked a few crumpled bills toward Chris’s feet. “Here. That’s like, forty bucks. Go buy yourself a new personality. Maybe something in a more successful style.”
The money fluttered to the floor like discarded tissue.
Chris didn’t move.
He stared down at the bills. Then up—straight at Franklin.
His voice was quiet. Too quiet. “You think money makes you better than me?”
Franklin leaned in, mocking. “No. I know it does.”
Chris didn’t speak.
He just moved.
A clean, sudden motion.
CRACK!
His fist collided with Franklin’s nose, and the sound echoed like a firecracker.
The rich boy stumbled back, hands flying to his face, blood gushing between his fingers.
Screams. Gasps. Phones recording.
“OH MY GOD!”
“He hit him!”
“Is Franklin bleeding?”
Frank dropped to one knee, groaning. “You BROKE my NOSE!”
Anna backed away, covering her mouth in horror.
Chris stood over him, calm as ever. His fist was still clenched, but his breathing was steady. He didn’t look proud. He didn’t even look angry.
He looked… disappointed.
Logan lunged.
“YOU’RE DEAD, JANITOR!”
- Writer
