I tighten my grip on the box, straighten my shoulders, and keep walking across the bridge toward his room. Because the truth? I need to see him. I need to know I didn't just imagine all of it.
Yeah, yeah, I know I sound like a broken record. Deal with it.
So I keep walking.
His balcony door is ajar, which is weird, but okay. At least I don't have to knock. And I can already hear his voice.
Oh good, he's awake.
Weekends after hockey season ended meant one thing: Zach turned into a hibernating bear. Sleeping until late afternoon, wandering the house shirtless, raiding the fridge. Lazy Saturdays were his thing. So, him being up at this time? Rare.
I step closer, the boutonniere box pressed tight against my chest like armor. Through the crack in the doorway, I catch a glimpse of him.
Headphones on, controller in hand, legs stretched out as he sits on his bed, eyes glued to the TV. The familiar glow of his PS5 screen reflects off his face. Of course.Elden Ring.
He's laughing at something. Talking trash into his mic. Which means—yep—it's Jacob on the other end. They've been obsessed with that stupid game for weeks.
I'm about to step inside, maybe scare him a little—just to see him jump and yank off his headphones like a dork—when I freeze.
Because then I hear it.
The words.
The ones that will split me wide open and leave me bleeding.
"Dude, trust me, you don't want to tap someone like Caroline."
My whole body goes rigid.
"She's way too out of your league. I mean, come on... she's not worth your time."
The room tilts. The box nearly slips out of my hand.
He pauses, listening to whatever Jacob says, then chuckles. Chuckles. Like this is all just some casual locker room banter.
"No, man, I don't swing that way. She's just my friend. Nothing more in there. I'm only going to prom with her becauseit's... expected, you know? Our parents want the whole 'last high school dance together' thing. And, come on, she didn't really have anyone else asking. Well—besides you, I guess. But that was already too late."
He laughs again, like it's the funniest damn thing.
My ears ring. My chest caves.
And then—he goes in for the kill.
"I don't see her that way. I never will. She's not... girlfriend material. You know me. You know the girls I go for. I don't date fat chicks."
Silence.
The kind that crushes.
The kind where you can literally hear your own heart splitting, splintering into a thousand shards.
I stumble back a step, pressing a fist to my mouth to keep from making a sound. Because if I let it out, if I scream, sob,anything, he'll hear me.
My world—our world, the one we built since we were kids—crashes down all at once.
This isn't Zach. NotmyZach. My Zach doesn't talk like this. My Zach doesn't laugh at me behind my back.
Did I... step into some alternate universe? Is this another Zach Westbrook, some cruel twin who stole his voice and face?
