It’s just an image — from the cliff walk. The leather jacket, the wind, the eyes. Text below:
“They didn’t break me. They revealed me.”
Sponsored by some teen mental health non-profit Tristan’s PR team hooked up with.
I pull over again.
I get out and just stand there on the sidewalk, staring up.
Cars pass. People walk by. Someone nearby points up at the screen and says, “That’s that girl from TikTok.”
I shove my hands in my pockets.
“I fucking love you,” I say under my breath.
The words taste like truth and defeat at the same time.
She has no idea I’m standing here, looking up at a ten-foot version of her. She’s living a life that’s expanding every second.
And here I am.
Staring at a billboard.
Trying to figure out how to be worthy of even talking to her again.
That night, I end up at Xavier’s place because being in my own house feels like trying to breathe underwater.
His den is chaos as always. Music on low, snacks everywhere, a game muted on the TV.
Mindy’s at the dining table with her laptop and a pair of noise-canceling headphones, analyzing engagement and reach like she was born doing this. She gives me a little salute when I walk in. Tristan is already there drinking something that looks old and illegal.
“Star-crossed idiot,” she says. “Welcome.”
“Traitor informant,” I reply.
She grins and goes back to work.
Tristan tosses me a drink — soda, not beer. He knows better than to give me alcohol in this state.
X pats the couch. “Come suffer with us.”
I drop down, stretch my legs out, and stare at nothing.
“Thanksgiving weekend,” Tristan says. “Your parents doing the big ridiculous dinner?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You?”
“Flying to Aspen right after,” he says. “But not until Monday. My mom has to be seen giving to the ‘less fortunate’ first.”
X smirks. “We’re hosting three other families. It’s going to be a nightmare. Mindy is coming as my plus one of course.”
They both look at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Jade’s parents are coming in, right?” X says.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “They’re driving up.”
