Chapter 19
Lily's POV.
I bolted upright in bed, my heart hammering and sweat soaking my pajamas. My sheets were a tangled mess, and I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand as the echoes of my dream, intense, electric, achingly real, faded into memory.
It took me a moment to remember where I was. My breathing slowed as I sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at the soft glow of the nightstand lamp. It was only a dream, I reminded myself, though my pulse still raced with its heat. I swallowed hard. A dream about Joe Wellington, of all people. How was that even possible, when I had Mark by my side?
"You have a boyfriend, Lily. A good one. A sweet one. One who actually wants you."
Still, the disappointment was real. I hated that I had woken up just before the climax, literally and metaphorically.
With a low grumble, I swung my legs over the bed and stood, every muscle tense. My pajamas clung uncomfortably to my damp skin. My frustration flared, some parts of me ached to go back to sleep and relive that moment again, while another part scolded me for betraying Mark in my subconscious.
Dragging myself into the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face and stared at my reflection. My eyes were bright, my cheeks flushed. I shook my head, took a deep breath, and began dressing for school in my uniform, a crisp white blouse and navy skirt. Each button reminded me of last night's thrill and this morning's guilt.
After getting dressed for school, I trudged downstairs. My jaw nearly dropped when I saw the table.
A full-on three-course breakfast was laid out. Silver covers gleamed, and the smell of luxury wafted through the dining area. Mark sat at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone.
"You did this?" I asked, stunned.
He looked up and smiled, standing up to kiss my cheek. " Good morning. And no, I didn't cook. My chef, Victer did. But it's all for you. Figured you deserved something fancy after last night."
Guilt stabbed at me again.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "It looks… incredible. Thank you."
I sat down, trying to look enthusiastic even though half the things on the table looked like they belonged in a five-star Parisian restaurant. I wasn't even sure what one of the dishes was. Some kind of fish...maybe?
"This one is caviar," Mark said, noticing my expression. "You don't have to eat all of it. Just try it."
I smiled and nodded, carefully taking small bites and pretending like I wasn't completely out of my depth. Some of the flavors were strange and unfamiliar, but I swallowed them with forced grace.
"It's...interesting," I said.
He grinned. "That's what rich tastes like. You'll get used to it."
"Dig in, try the quiche. I know you like quiche."
I picked up the fork, my heart fluttering again. The quiche was surprisingly light, flavored with sun-dried tomatoes and basil. I took a cautious bite. "This is… amazing."
Mark sat across from me, watching me with that mix of pride and relief. "Happy?"
I nodded, biting into a blueberry scone. "Yes."
He beamed. I moved on to the salmon canapés, smoky and silky, passing the parfait after. Some of the dishes were foreign, tiny savory custards, a quinoa salad topped with edible flowers, but I matched Mark's enthusiasm, savoring each bite to keep him happy.
We finished breakfast, and he drove us to school like everything was normal. Like I wasn't battling a hurricane of guilt and confusion inside me.
Mark dropped me at the front gates.
"See you at lunch?" he asked, brushing a lock of hair from my face.
I smiled. "Definitely. Thank you for breakfast."
"Anytime," he said, then drove off with a final wave.
I took a deep breath and walked toward the main building, grabbing my backpack. The morning classes breezed by in a blur of notes and chatter.
After class, Sonia grabbed me by the wrist. "The coach wants us in the meeting room. Footballers and cheerleaders. Something about the next match. Come on, hurry up!"
I followed her, still lost in thought. We entered the packed meeting room, and I ended up standing at the back.
My heart jumped into my throat when I realized who was standing next to me.
Joe.
I didn't even have to look. My body recognized his presence before my eyes did. His scent. His energy. Everything.
We stood side by side, shoulders almost brushing, and yet we didn't say a word. Neither of us acknowledged what had almost happened the night before. We both stared straight ahead, acting like we were strangers.
My fingers curled around the hem of my skirt. Why did it feel like there was electricity in the air between us?
"Thanks for coming, everyone. The next big match is in two weeks, and we need all hands on deck. Football team, we'll practice playing in the east field. Cheerleaders, head to the north sidelines. But we're adding something new, a halftime routine with the football players."
Our coach rambled on about tactics and performance goals. I heard none of it. I was too busy trying to keep my breathing steady.
As the meeting ended, the groups split. Footballers to one field, cheerleaders to another.
Rehearsals started, and I just couldn't focus. I missed cues, forgot the steps, and tripped over my own feet twice. The coach's whistle shrilled.
"Lily! Are you even present today? If you're not going to commit, then leave. We don't have time to babysit you!"
I nodded quickly. "Sorry, Coach. I'll do better."
The rest of the team shot me annoyed looks, but I powered through. Somehow, I finished the routine. I was the last to leave the field, exhausted and embarrassed.
I dragged myself toward the locker room, needing just a few minutes of peace.
But peace was the last thing I got.
As I pushed open the locker room door, I froze.
Right in front of me, on the bench, was Joe.
And sitting on top of him, straddling his lap and locking lips with him like her life depended on it…was Avery, one of the most popular cheerleaders in school.
I couldn't move. My legs turned to ice.
He didn't see me. Or maybe he did, and just didn't care.
My heart felt like it had been stomped on, crushed, and burned, all in one breath.
I slowly stepped back, closing the door without making a sound, my hands trembling.
It was just a dream, Lily.
Right?
But this?
This was very, very real.