Glad to see you again...

Chapter 5

Trust is a gift—but once it’s broken, it’s nearly impossible to repair.

I wasn’t all that interested in prom, but Tia and Winnie were over the moon about it—it was our last big hurrah before exams. They both scored dates, and I wasn’t exactly eager to play third wheel. Not that it mattered much—no one asked me anyway. Apparently, being a massive nerd isn’t exactly a selling point. But then one day, Wesley strolled up to my locker. I narrowed my eyes, already bracing myself. What does he want this time?

"Are you going to say something, or are you planning to stand there like a statue all day?"

Then, without warning, the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"Do you want to go to prom...?"

I blinked. "What?"

He swallowed hard. "With me..."

It threw me completely. For someone I claimed to hate, Wesley had always felt… familiar. He was the only one who matched my ambition, mirrored my drive, challenged me at every turn. We were rivals, yes—but it was more than that. Every argument, every stolen glance across a debate stage or study hall, felt electric. Like we were speaking the same language no one else could hear. And somewhere in the chaos, I started to feel something I didn’t want to admit.

So when he asked, I said yes. My heart was pounding, my brain screaming, and I cursed my hopelessly romantic, hormone-fueled teenage heart. I still remember the way his face lit up the moment he heard me say yes—his smile was pure, unguarded, almost boyish in its joy.

Ever since the day he asked me to prom, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of shyness every time I saw him by his locker in the hallway. Whenever he caught me staring, he'd flash a shy smile back, and I couldn’t help but feel my heart race. Sometimes, in class, I’d catch him stealing a glance at me too.

For the first time in four years, I found myself genuinely excited for prom. I was the one to grab Tia and Winnie to the mall to hunt for the perfect dress. I tried on countless dresses, but nothing felt right until I slipped into the perfect one—a hot pink strap dress that hugged my curves, reminding me of Monica’s dress from Friends. I was planning to splurge on contact lenses and even straighten my hair for the big night.

But…all that went down the drain the day before prom.

The big debate was just around the corner, and this was my moment to shine—my chance to secure the final credits I needed to become the school valedictorian. As I made my way to biology, I passed by the boys' locker room on my way to the gym and overheard Tyler, Wesley's best friend, talking. They were discussing prom. And, to my horror, they were talking about me and Wes.

"You see... he's planning to sleep with her on prom night. And once he gets what he wants, he’ll ditch her like she’s garbage," Tyler sneered. "She’ll be so messed up, there’s no way she’ll be able to hold it together for the debate."

I felt my heart plummet, like it had dropped straight to the floor. Biting my lip to keep from breaking down, I couldn’t stop the tears as they began to slide down my cheeks. I had to get away—anywhere but here. My legs moved on instinct, carrying me far from the hallway, far from the laughter. They led me to the janitor’s closet at the far end of the school, a forgotten little space no one ever used.

It was cramped, cluttered with dusty, abandoned cleaning supplies—things long since discarded, just like how I felt at that moment. I sank to the floor and let the pain pour out. How could I have trusted him? How could I have been so naive?

Time blurred as I cried, alone in the silence. I skipped class. I didn’t care—I couldn’t face anyone like this. But something in me snapped. No. I wasn’t going to let him break me. I wiped my tears, pushed myself off the floor, and stood tall. I had to fight back.

That’s when I realized something was wrong.

The door wouldn’t open. I twisted the knob—it was stuck. Jammed. My chest tightened. Panic set in. "Hello? Is anyone out there? I’m locked in!" My voice echoed in the dark. The single bulb above me was dead, plunging the room into pitch black. My breathing quickened. I pounded on the door, shouting, fists slamming against the wood as terror rose in my throat. I checked my phone and there was no signal.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open. The janitor stood there, frowning. “What are you doing in here?”

I didn’t respond. I just bolted.

Lunchtime was approaching, so I ducked into the nearest girls’ bathroom and locked myself in one of the stalls. My heart was still pounding like it might explode from my chest. I had never felt so trapped… so helpless… so completely alone. Fear clung to me like a second skin. I doubled over the toilet and threw up, the sour taste of panic and humiliation burning my throat.

There was no way I could go back to class after that. My body felt weak, my mind spinning. The nurse took one look at me and sent me home to rest.

From that day on, I developed a deep fear of tight, enclosed spaces and total darkness. I couldn’t sleep without some kind of light on. But my mom, ever practical and frugal, refused to let me keep a lamp running at night—it was an unnecessary expense in her eyes. So I saved up and bought myself a flashlight, something small but bright enough to push back the dark. Just enough to help me sleep without fear.

I hated Wes for what he did—for planting this fear in me, for making me feel weak, like a coward. I never told anyone. I couldn’t bear the thought of being pitied. But deep down, I wanted revenge. The timing was perfect. Prom was a week before the debate, and I knew exactly what he was trying to do—manipulate me, use me, and then twist the moment I gave him something as personal as my virginity into a weapon against me. The very idea made my skin crawl.

But instead of confronting him or backing out, I decided to play along. I let him believe I was clueless, that I hadn’t heard a thing. I wanted him to think his little plan was working.

On prom night, I slipped into my hot pink dress with a quiet, burning resolve. Every move I made, every breath I took, was deliberate. This wasn’t just about looking good—it was about reclaiming something he tried to steal from me. I wanted Wesley to feel even a fraction of what I had felt—blindsided, discarded, humiliated.

When the doorbell rang, I paused by the window. There he was, standing tall in a sharp tuxedo, corsage in hand, eyes gleaming with confidence. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought that corsage was laced with poison. He looked so sure of himself—so smug. He thought he had already won.

But when I opened the door, I wasn’t alone. Dean, Tia’s older brother, stood beside me, his arm wrapped gently around mine. He was calm, kind, and exactly who I needed by my side.

Wesley’s expression cracked in an instant. His confidence shattered the moment he saw us together.

I met his eyes—those familiar, infuriating eyes—and without flinching, I said, “Don’t wait up for me.”

Then I turned my back on him, took Dean’s hand, and walked away. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to.

I left the porch light on. Call it mercy. Or maybe irony.

Wesley’s twisted game didn’t break me. It forged me. By the time the debate came, I wasn’t scared—I was unshakable. I walked onto that stage with my head held high and gave it everything I had.

I still remember Wesley’s face when my name was announced as the winner. But fate, in its strange sense of humor, made us co-valedictorians—he’d scraped enough points from his precious chess tournaments to tie with me.

Of course he did.