Chapter Four-The Things We Don't Say
1166 Words
Jaxon’s POV
The rumor had claws.
No matter how many times Jaxon told himself it didn’t matter, that people talked all the time, it did matter. Because this one wasn’t about basketball or grades or popularity — it had Aleeyah’s name in it.
And that changed everything.
He’d spent the past two days trying to track where it came from. The original post was anonymous, but the comments had a pattern — same emojis, same phrasing. Someone had started it intentionally. Someone wanted to see him fall.
By Tuesday night, he was in the locker room, alone, scrolling through his phone for the hundredth time.
Same post. Same thread. Same comments.
And that same tightness in his chest that wouldn’t go away.
Tyler walked in, tossing his duffel on the bench.
“You’re still on that?” he asked.
Jaxon didn’t look up. “It’s not just a rumor anymore. People are starting to believe it.”
Tyler sighed. “Bro, it’s college. People believe anything if it sounds messy enough.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want her dragged into it.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Her, huh?”
Jaxon glared at him. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying. You’ve never cared this much when they talked about you before.”
“This is different,” Jaxon muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s not like the others. She didn’t even want to talk to me, and now she’s stuck in this because of me.”
Tyler sat beside him, quieter now. “So, what are you gonna do?”
Jaxon looked at his phone one more time before turning it off. “I’m gonna find whoever started it. And I’m gonna make it right.”
---
Aleeyah’s POV
By Wednesday, Aleeyah had learned to walk faster.
It wasn’t like people were openly cruel — they didn’t laugh or point — but their looks said enough. The curious stares, the whispered questions, the pitying glances. She hated it all.
She’d thought she could ignore it, that it would die down eventually. But it hadn’t. Every hallway felt smaller. Every conversation felt like it might be about her.
Even Tessa didn’t know what to say anymore.
Sometimes, silence was worse than words.
That afternoon, Aleeyah escaped to the library — her favorite spot on campus. It was quiet, and quiet meant safe. She settled near the window, notebook open, pen tapping lightly against the page.
She wanted to write — about anything other than this. But her thoughts kept circling back to him.
Jaxon Miller.
The name itself carried weight. Everyone knew him. Everyone wanted to.
She hadn’t meant to get caught in his orbit, but somehow, she had. And now she couldn’t tell if she was angry… or curious.
She was still staring at her blank page when a shadow fell over her table.
“Hey,” a voice said softly.
Her pen froze.
She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Her pulse answered before her eyes did.
She sighed, finally glancing up. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I needed to talk to you,” Jaxon said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Please.”
The librarian shot them both a warning glare. Aleeyah sighed again, closing her notebook. “Fine. Outside.”
They walked to the courtyard behind the library, where the autumn trees hid most of the noise. She stopped under a maple tree, arms crossed.
“Say what you need to say.”
Jaxon looked… different. Not his usual confident self. He looked tired — and not just physically.
“I didn’t start that rumor,” he said quietly. “And I didn’t make any bet.”
Aleeyah studied him. “Then why does everyone think you did?”
“Because people expect the worst from me,” he said simply. “And maybe I made that easy for them.”
She blinked. “So you’re admitting you’ve done it before?”
He hesitated, then nodded once. “Yeah. I’ve done stupid things. I won’t lie to you. But not this time.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of rain.
Aleeyah looked away first. “It doesn’t really matter. The damage is done.”
“It matters to me,” Jaxon said firmly. “Because it’s your name in their mouths now. And that’s on me.”
Something in his tone made her chest tighten — that quiet sincerity she hadn’t expected.
“You can’t fix this, Jaxon.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But I can try.”
She shook her head, exhaling. “Why? You don’t even know me.”
He smiled faintly. “That’s kind of the problem. I want to.”
The air stilled.
Aleeyah’s breath caught — just for a second — before she stepped back. “Don’t say things like that.”
“I’m not saying it to mess with you,” he said softly. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
He looked at her then, really looked — not like she was some rumor, not like she was a challenge — but like she was a mystery he actually wanted to understand.
And that terrified her.
“Jaxon…” she began, but her voice faltered. “I just need some space, okay?”
He nodded, eyes unreadable. “Yeah. I get that.”
He turned to leave, then paused. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”
She didn’t reply.
He walked away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the weight of unspoken words between them.
Aleeyah stood there for a long moment, staring after him, her pulse still racing.
Something about the way he’d said it — quiet, without trying to convince her — made her believe him a little.
And that scared her more than the rumor itself.
---
Later that night, Aleeyah sat by the window in her dorm, watching the campus lights flicker in the rain. Tessa was asleep, her phone buzzing faintly on the nightstand.
Aleeyah’s notebook lay open beside her, a half-finished sentence on the page:
“Sometimes, the people we’re warned about are the only ones who see us clearly.”
She didn’t know why she’d written it. Maybe because it felt true.
She sighed, closing the notebook. But before she could switch off the lamp, her phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
> You don’t know me, but I think you should know the rumor wasn’t random. Someone started it on purpose.
It wasn’t Jaxon.
Be careful who you trust.
Aleeyah’s blood ran cold.
She stared at the screen, heart thudding, rereading the message again and again.
Outside, thunder rolled softly over Eastbridge.
And somewhere across campus, Jaxon lay awake too — staring at the ceiling, wondering how to prove something that words alone couldn’t fix.
Because sometimes, the hardest thing to defend… is your truth.
- Writer
