I actually have to pull over for a second on the side of the road just to breathe.
Because part of me is proud as hell.
Part of me is sick with jealousy.
And all of me is in love with her in a way that feels less like a feeling and more like a chronic condition.
Thanksgiving is three days away.
Something in my gut says that’s when everything is going to snap.
The Royal Oaks parking lot is already packed by the time I pull in. SUVs, hybrids, sports cars — all lined up like a dealership for rich kids.
Phones are out everywhere.
Everyone is watching something on their screens, showing it to someone else. I don’t even need to guess what it is.
As I get out of my car, I catch my name in the wind.
“…Leo’s ex…”
“…that video…”
“…she called out the whole system…”
“…turned down six figures…”
I slam my door a little too hard.
Steady. Breathe. Walk.
Inside, the halls are buzzing like a live wire.
Girls huddled together whispering.
Guys pretending not to care but clearly scrolling Jade’s social profile on their phones.
Teachers watching everything with that wary, controlled expression that says “legal is breathing down my neck.”
And then there’s her.
First period, end of the main hallway, just outside the student lounge.
Jade.
She sees me.
Of course she does.
Her gaze slides over, lands on me for half a second. It’s like looking into a bonfire.
My steps falter for one beat. Just one.
Her expression doesn’t change. Not a millimeter. No smile. No softening. No flinch.
Then she looks right past me like I’m just another student.
I feel that.
