“You don’t have to. I can get the bus.”
“You could,” he nods. “Or I could pick you up. I want to see you. That okay?”
The certainty in his voice and the way he leaves space for me to say no, does something to me. Something warm and dangerous. “Yeah. Pick me up.”
He smiles, and then he’s leaning in to kiss me again. It’s quick but firm, a promise pressed to my mouth. When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against mine.
“If she posts anything else,” he murmurs, “tell me. I don’t check her socials so I won’t see it unless she tags me again. I don’t want you handling any of that alone.”
I hesitate. “I don’t want to drag you into drama, she’ll get bored if you carry on ignoring her.”
“You’re not dragging me anywhere,” he says. “I’m choosing to be in it with you.”
The words settle deep.
I pull away reluctantly. “Go. You’ll be late.”
“Worth it.” He squeezes my hand once more before letting go.
He waits until I’m fully inside the building before driving off. And when I take the stairs to my lecture, two floors up, I realise my chest feels lighter. Like something unclenched.
But that peace doesn’t last long.
By midday, my phone buzzes with another notification. Another post. Another curated little dagger from Talia. This time, it’s a throwback from a Panthers charity gala, with her arm looped through his.
Funny how some people confuse attention with affection.
No names. No tags. Nothing directly aimed at me.
But it doesn’t have to be. I see my own photo liked by a handful of new strangers; girls from the fandom. A few comments. Little barbs laced with fake niceness.
Meanwhile, you’re just… there. Some girls will settle for being second choice.
I close the app, palms sweating. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, but it absolutely does. And my heart sinks. By the time my lecture ends, my stomach is in my shoes. When Callum texts thirty minutes later my breath catches in relief.
Cal: Out front. Take your time.
He’s leaning against his car when I step outside of the building, his hair is damp with drizzle, and hands tucked in his pockets. When he sees my face, his expression sharpens instantly.
“Rose?”
I shake my head quickly, forcing a smile. “Long day. That’s all.”
He doesn’t buy it. The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Get in. Please.”
Once I’m inside his car and the doors are shut, the world softens again. He doesn’t drive off immediately, he just watches me, with his brow furrowed. “Did she post again?” I swallow and he sighs softly. “Show me.”
I hesitate only a second before handing him my phone. His brows pull together as he scrolls. Then he goes still. Completely still. “Of course she did,” he mutters. “Christ, Talia…”
I open my mouth, but he beats me to it.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says firmly. “You hear me? None of this is your fault.”
“I know, I just?—”
“No.” His voice drops. “I mean it.”
I look at him and see the frustration simmering under the controlled surface. I see the softness he uses only on me, and the way his hand instinctively finds my thigh, grounding me.
