Not yours anymore
836 Words
“Report it,” Talia said , pacing the bedroom with her phone clutched tight like a grenade. “He can’t just post that. You could report it.”
I didn’t move. I sat at the edge of her bed, legs bouncing, heart cold. “No. Let it stay up.”
Talia froze mid-step. “Are you insane?”
I looked up slowly, my voice low but steady. “Let them talk. Let them see. The version of me they want to laugh at… she doesn’t exist anymore.”
Talia blinked, stunned. “Okay, wow. Who are you and what did you do with Nova Lane?”
“I’m done playing nice,” I muttered. “He’s poked the bear one too many times.”
Talia sat beside me, brushing her auburn curls behind one ear. “You know Ryder’s going to see it, right? Half the school’s already sharing it.”
I paused, anxiety twisting through my chest. “Let him. He doesn’t care what people think.”
“But you do,” she said gently.
I nodded once. “Not anymore.”
It was a lie. Of course I cared. But I’d bled enough in private. Cried enough under covers. Starved enough dreams.
If they wanted to paint me as the girl who got dumped and came back hotter—fine. Let them. I’d write the rest of the story myself.
And Jace? He wanted a reaction.
He was going to get it.
****
The halls of West Ridge High were louder than usual. Not in volume—just in eyes. Stares lingered. Whispers trailed behind me like perfume. But I didn’t flinch. I kept my shoulders back, my chin high, and walked through the storm like it was sun on my skin.
They wanted me to crack.
They’d be waiting a long time.
I reached my locker just as the bell rang. Students scattered like leaves, but one shadow stayed put.
Ryder leaned against the locker beside mine, arms crossed. Black hoodie. Silver chain. That same bored smirk playing on his mouth. But his eyes?
They weren’t bored.
“You’re trending,” he said.
I forced a shrug. “Guess I’m famous now.”
He tilted his head. “He’s trying to get in your head.”
“He failed.”
Ryder stepped closer. “I don’t like when people mess with what’s mine.”
My heart stuttered. “I’m not yours.”
His gaze flicked over me, jaw tight. “Maybe not yet.”
I didn’t have time to unpack that before the hallway quieted—like oxygen got sucked out of the room.
Jace was walking toward us.
He moved through the hallway like a storm in a bottle. Confident. Controlled. Rage in his eyes—but not loud. Dangerous in the way lightning is before it strikes.
He stopped just a few feet away, arms crossed. “Got a minute, Nova?”
Ryder shifted beside me, standing straighter. Tension coiled around us like wire.
I looked from one to the other. “What do you want, Jace?”
His smile was all teeth. “To talk. Alone.”
“I think I’m good.”
His gaze cut to Ryder. “You always let your project partner guard you like a damn dog?”
Ryder didn’t flinch. “Better a dog than a snake.”
“Funny,” Jace said tightly. “Last I checked, you weren’t even supposed to be here this semester. Expelled once wasn’t enough?”
Ryder moved forward, but I touched his arm, stopping him. “Don’t.”
He looked down at my hand on his sleeve. Then at me. And nodded.
Jace stared like he wanted to say more—but instead, he turned and walked off.
The tension didn’t leave with him. It stuck. Heavy. Crackling.
I turned back to my locker, pretending to fix my books, but Ryder didn’t move.
“You should stay away from me,” he said after a beat.
I stilled. “Why?”
“Because I’m not a hero. I’m not going to play nice. And if you keep standing next to me, people are going to start treating you like me.”
I looked over at him.
Hard jaw. Tattoo on his neck. Eyes that saw too much. Shoulders like he carried the weight of every secret in school.
“I’ve already been treated like garbage,” I said softly. “At least this time, I get to choose who I stand beside.”
He studied me for a moment. Then his smirk returned—but softer. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He pushed off the locker and strode down the hallway, every pair of eyes following his path.
I exhaled slowly, heart pounding.
But I didn’t regret it.
Not even a little.
As I turned back toward my locker…
I saw a letter.
Tucked inside.
No name.
Just one line: “You don’t know what he’s done. But you will.”
- Writer
