CHAPTER EIGHT: The Heartbreak Rebellion
Ella didn't cry.
Not when she got home.
Not when she stood under the cold shower for twenty minutes trying to forget how his lips felt on her skin.
Not even when her mom asked if she was okay.
Because crying would mean it mattered.
And if she let it matter, it would break her.
So instead, she rebelled.
****
The next morning, she walked into school with red lipstick, a leather mini skirt that screamed "trouble," and a confidence that was so obviously fake, it scared even her.
But it worked.
The moment she entered the courtyard, people stopped.
Whispers started.
Even the teachers gave her second glances.
Ryan saw her too.
Of course he did.
He froze on the stairs, watching her like she was a wildfire he couldn't put out.
She met his gaze.
Smiled.
Walked straight past him—and right up to Marco Diaz.
Tall.
Tattooed.
Trouble.
A senior known for sleeping with teachers' daughters and not giving a damn about rules.
She slid her arm into his like they were old lovers.
He raised an eyebrow. "You sure about this, baby?"
Ella smiled. "I want to forget someone. You look like you're good at that."
Ryan saw it all.
Every word.
Every fake laugh.
Every flirtatious touch.
And something in him snapped.
****
Later that day, Ryan cornered her after chem class.
"Marco?" he hissed. "Seriously?"
She didn't even flinch. "What's it to you?"
"You don't know what he's like."
"And you think you're better?" she laughed. "At least Marco didn't pretend to care."
Ryan's jaw clenched. "You're doing this to hurt me."
She leaned close. "Is it working?"
That shut him up.
Because yes—it was.
He hated the way she was acting.
He hated how much he missed her.
And he hated that he had no right to stop her.
Because he broke her first.
***
That night, Marco took her to an underground club two towns away. Loud music, strobe lights, and too many shots.
Ella danced like her heart wasn't shattered.
She kissed Marco like it didn't burn.
But it wasn't the same.
It wasn't Ryan.
And when Marco's hands slid up her thigh under the neon lights, something inside her screamed no.
She shoved him off.
"I—I can't."
He backed away, hands up. "Hey, I get it. You're not ready."
She blinked, surprised.
He smirked. "Just for the record though… Cortez? He's never looked at anyone the way he looks at you."
Then he walked away.
And left her standing there—
Alone.
Shaking.
Gutted.
*****
Back in his room, Ryan stared at the message on his phone:
"You lost her. And you deserved to."
It was from his best friend, Leo—the one who warned him not to mess with her from the beginning.
Ryan threw the phone across the room.
He didn't deserve her.
But he still wanted her.
God, he still wanted her.