I kept telling myself it didn't matter.
One night. One stranger. One cold morning.
I scrubbed my skin until it stung, threw the torn panties in the bin, and pulled on my uniform like it could protect me. I would forget him. I had to.
But every time I blinked I felt his mouth on my neck, his fingers digging into my hips, the way he groaned when he came inside the condom. Then the other words slammed back: easy, pathetic, mistake. My stomach turned over and over.
At school I walked with my head down, eyes on the floor. Steve was leaning against my locker, hair messy, looking like he hadn't slept.
"Grace, please. Just five minutes."
I stared past his shoulder. "I have class."
"I know what I did was disgusting. I was drunk and stupid and—"
"I don't care anymore." My voice came out flat, like someone else was speaking. He reached for my arm and I jerked away so fast I almost dropped my books. "Don't touch me. Ever again."
He looked like I'd slapped him, but I felt nothing. The only face stuck in my head was the stranger who threw me out like garbage.
I turned the corner and my heart actually stopped beating for a second.
There he was.
Laughing with a group of seniors, one hand in his pocket, the other pushing his hair back. Same green eyes, same mouth that had kissed me everywhere. Same body that had pinned me to the bed. He was wearing our school tie now, sleeves rolled up, looking like he belonged here all along.
I heard someone shout, "Dayton, you coming to practice?"
Dayton.
He was a senior. We went to the same school this whole time and I never noticed. We probably passed each other in the halls a thousand times.
His eyes flicked toward me for half a second. No warmth. No flicker. Nothing. He looked straight through me like I was invisible. My chest cracked wide open again.
The rest of the day I moved like a ghost. Teachers talked, friends waved, but everything sounded underwater. All I could think was: he's here every day, and he wants me gone.
When I finally got home, Mrs. Henderson was rushing around in pearls and panic.
"Grace, change into the black dress, the nice one. The chairman of C&K Group is coming with his son. Lilian's fiancé. We need everything perfect. Steak, roasted vegetables, those little chocolate cakes with the gold leaf."
My hands moved without me thinking. I cooked, I plated, I set the table with the good silver. I just wanted the night to be over.
The doorbell rang.
I carried the tray of drinks into the living room and the glasses almost slipped from my fingers.
Dayton stood there in a black suit that cost more than everything I owned, shaking Mr. Henderson's hand. Next to him was an older man, tall, silver at the temples, expensive watch catching the light. Jordan Knight, the chairman himself. The second I stepped in, his eyes locked on me. Cold. Sharp. Like he was peeling my skin back layer by layer. I felt naked and small.
Lilian floated over in a tight red dress, kissed Dayton's cheek, and looped her arm through his like she'd been doing it forever. He smiled down at her, small, polite, nothing like the hungry smile he gave me in that hotel room.
Jordan never stopped staring. Every time I refilled water, every time I passed the bread basket, his eyes tracked me. He barely blinked. It made my skin crawl. I swear he hated me, but I couldn't figure out why.
Dinner was torture. I stood in the corner like furniture, ready to jump if anyone lifted a finger. Lilian laughed too loud, touching Dayton's arm every chance she got. He never once looked my way.
When I slipped into the kitchen for more wine, a hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me into the dark hallway.
Dayton.
His grip was tight enough to bruise. "Listen to me," he whispered, voice rough. "Pretend you don't know me. Don't speak to me. Don't even look at me tonight. Understand?"
I stared up at him. The hallway smelled like him, clean soap and warm skin. My throat closed up.
I pulled my wrist free. "Don't worry," I said, keeping my voice steady even though my heart was shattering all over again. "I don't know you. Never seen you before."
His jaw clenched. Something flashed in his eyes, real hurt, gone as fast as it came.
"Good," he muttered.
I stepped closer so only he could hear. "Actually… I already forgot everything about last night. Happens when the guy calls you easy and kicks you out before the sun's even up."
His face changed. The mask slipped. Pain, sharp and clear. Then the ice slammed back down.
"Grace—"
I walked away before he could finish. My chest felt full of broken glass, but I lifted my chin, carried the wine back in, and smiled at the room like nothing had happened.
Jordan Knight was still staring. His eyes never left me the rest of the night.
I smiled sweeter, bowed my head, and prayed the clock would move faster.