The idea keeps looping in my mind.Should I thank him for it?
But the other voice kicks in.The one that reminds me of what he did—how the bet was real and how he let me fall without stopping it when it mattered most.
I grab my keys from the counter and slide into my car, the engine coughing to life.The drive to school feels longer than usual, even though I hit every green light.My mind’s too busy.Every turn of the wheel brings another thought I can’t quiet.
I keep thinking about how he did the entire thing without asking for anything in return.
By the time I pull into the parking lot, my hands ache from gripping the wheel too hard.I sit there for a minute, engine ticking, watching students stream into the building like it’s just another normal day.
The day is endless.
In first period, I don’t absorb a single word the teacher says.I keep running through fake conversations in my head—all the different ways I might say it.
“Thanks for the project.”
Or, “You didn’t have to do that.”
Or even, “I saw what you sent.”
But nothing seems right.Every version of me seems too fragile to risk breaking in front of him.
By second period, I am exhausted from overthinking.
And between second and third period, I see him.
He’s standing by his locker, laughing at something one of the guys says.A few team members are gathered around him, exchanging their usual bullshit.He’s leaning against the door, relaxed and effortless.
I pause for a second.
As if sensing me standing there, his eyes flick to me.They hold for a moment before moving away.
I swallow hard, fingers gripping the strap of my bag as I step forward.
I should say thank you.It’s two simple words.But I don’t.
I walk past without stopping, and whatever I was going to say slips away.
Nicole catches me between classes, stepping into my path.There’s a bruise blooming high on her cheekbone from her fight with Tia, but she wears it like a trophy.Her hair is freshly straightened, lips glossed to the max, and that crocodile smile is plastered on her face.
“So…” she drawls, voice syrupy sweet with a bite beneath it.“How’s it feel to be someone’s prize, Sam?”
“Get fucked, Nicole.”
She smirks, flicking her hair over one shoulder.“Already have.But thanks for the advice.”
I walk past her before I do something I’ll regret because if I open my mouth right now, I might scream until the walls crack.I might claw at the ache in my chest until it finally lets me breathe again.
She’s not worth it.None of them are.
The rest of the day drifts by in fragments.I’m in class, but I am disconnected.Floating.Hollow.Moving through rooms filled with noise I can’t grasp.Every hallway echoes with pieces of him.Every corner I turn seems like he might be there, until he’s not—and it’s the same lockers and the same reminders that I’m still carrying all of this alone.
Even Lola’s usual chaos doesn’t break through the fog.She tries.God, she tries.Pulls ridiculous faces in math, writes dirty things in the corner of my notebook to see if I’ll crack a smile.Whispers that Nicole’s hair looks more fried than her personality today.
But I can’t laugh.
Not today.
The final bell rings, but I don’t head to the gate.My feet seem to have a mind of their own, dragging me somewhere I know he’ll be.
