--
English dragged on forever. My cut finger throbbed beneath the paper towel, and every time I wrote, the pen slipped against my grip. Ink smeared across the page, my notes a mess of lines and smudges. Perfect. Just perfect. Of course, Shelly leaned over and whispered, "Can I see your answers later?" I clenched my jaw, nodded, and tugged my sleeve farther down to hide the stupid cut.
History wasn't better. Halfway through the lecture, I dropped my textbook. It slammed against the floor like a gunshot. Heads snapped toward me. Heat crawled up my neck as I bent to grab it, muttering some excuse. The teacher glared like I'd committed a crime. I wanted to sink through the floor.
By the time lunch rolled around, I thought the universe might've been done with me. I was wrong. Tray in hand, I weaved through the cafeteria crowd, only for some kid to bump me. Juice splashed down my sleeve, cold and sticky. My appetite vanished instantly.
I sat anyway, plastering on my smile. Always smiling. Always fine. But inside? Seething. Why today of all days?
And then, as if the universe hadn't mocked me enough, I looked up.
Him.
Half-slouched a few tables away, eating like he couldn't care less. But his eyes… his eyes weren't empty. Sharp, studying. Like he could see right through every wall I'd built.
I didn't mean to stare. But I did.
And then his gaze lifted—straight into mine.
My heart lurched. I snapped my eyes back to my tray too fast, too obvious. Fingers tightened around my fork until my knuckles whitened. This is the second time he's read me like an open book.
Panic fluttered in my chest. Not again. Not him. I shoved my tray away, stood too fast. "Not hungry," I muttered, weaving through tables toward the exit.
But footsteps followed. Steady. Unhurried.
I shoved through the doors. The hallway swallowed me, but the echo of his shoes closed in.
Enough.
I spun, arms crossed tight. "Seriously? Why are you following me?"
He slowed, stopping just a few feet away. No grin, no sarcasm. Just steady eyes.
"You alright?"
The question knocked me off guard. "What?"
"You've been… off. Yesterday. And again just now." His voice was calm, annoyingly calm.
I barked out a bitter laugh. "Wow. So now you're keeping tabs on me?"
"Just noticed," he said simply. His gaze flicked to my hands. "You don't look fine."
I shoved my sleeve further down. "Newsflash—you don't need to check in. I'm not your responsibility."
"I know," he said, just as steady.
That calmness—it broke me. "Then stop asking! I don't need—" My voice cracked. My throat tightened. I snapped my mouth shut, chest heaving.
His eyes softened. He'd heard what I didn't say.
I turned to leave, but warmth suddenly wrapped around me from behind. His arms. Strong, steady.
My breath caught. My body locked up like I'd been caught in a trap. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Amara—" His voice was low, close, too close. "Just stop. One second."
I pushed against his arms. "Let me go!"
"Not until you hear me." His hold was firm, but not cruel. Patient.
"Why do you care?" I spat, my voice trembling.
He hesitated. Then—"Because you're not as untouchable as you act. And I think you know that."
His words cut deeper than the knife had that morning.
My chest rose too fast. My pulse raced too loud.
Then, slowly, his grip loosened.
I slipped free. No words. Just sharp footsteps against the floor as I stormed off.
But I could still feel his eyes on me. Watching. Knowing.
And worse—he'd seen it.
Damn it, Amara. Get it together.
--
Her footsteps echoed down the hall, sharp and angry, fading into silence. I didn't move. My arms still felt the ghost of her weight, the tension in her shoulders, the way she froze when I held her.
I should've let her go sooner. Or maybe I shouldn't have touched her at all.
"Adrian."
The voice broke through the fog in my head. Calm, steady—Jayden. He was leaning against the lockers a few feet back, arms crossed, watching me like he'd been there longer than I realized.
I turned, meeting his eyes. He didn't look surprised.
"What?" My tone came out harsher than I intended.
Jayden pushed off the lockers, walking closer. "You don't usually chase after people. What's different about her?"
I clenched my jaw. "Nothing."
"Liar." He said it lightly, but his gaze stayed sharp, steady. Jayden had always been like that—quiet, observant, calling me out without ever raising his voice.
I dragged a hand down my face. "She's… not what she wants people to think."
"And you figured that out in two days?"
Silence stretched between us. I didn't answer, because he was right, and yet… he wasn't.
Jayden sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever it is, just don't lose yourself in it."
I gave a dry laugh, no humor in it. "Too late."