“Fine,” I say. “Teach me something, Bells.”
Chapter Three
Lola
It was nice talking to Jace.
I’d never admit it out loud. Not to Sam or Aubrey, and definitely not to myself if I could help it—but sitting across from Jace Cooper again felt less like opening an old wound and more like pressing on a bruise that hadn’t faded yet.
It was strange how easily I slipped back into the rhythm.
One minute he was smirking at me over an Oreo, and the next I was reminding him that Shakespeare didn’t give a fuck about whether Juliet was hot.
He laughed. I laughed. And for a moment, it didn’t feel like we hadn’t talked in weeks.
He struggled, nonetheless.
Not in the typical lazy-ass, to-cool-to-care way most people assume.
No, this was different. He squinted at the pages, rubbed at his temples like the words were moving too fast, slipping sideways before he could grasp them.
He’d try to make it a joke by calling Romeo a dumbass or asking if Juliet was into knife play. But there was something else behind it. Something tight in his jaw when I made him read aloud. Like he was ashamed.
And that affected me somehow.
Because Jace Cooper isn’t easily embarrassed.
He fucks girls in bathroom stalls, flips off teachers, and walks through the world as if nothing can touch him. But the way he blinked at the words—trying, failing, trying again—it made me wonder if no one ever noticed. Or if they did, they didn’t care enough to call it what it was.
Maybe it’s something undiagnosed, like dyslexia. I didn’t know he had that problem, but I could see it. And I wasn’t going to be the next person to ignore it.
Next time we meet, I’ll tweak the lesson Ms. Mallory gave me. Less reading aloud, more visuals, shorter passages. I’ll even highlight the key parts in different colors.
This morning already feels like it’s been a lot.
Dad went all out with breakfast. Not the grab-and-go kind, but the sit-down, plates everywhere kind. We sat at the counter longer than usual and actually talked. I told him how I’ve been feeling a little left out lately. How Sam and Aubrey have their own gravity now and sometimes I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. He listened. Then he told me to hang in there, kid. That friendships stretch and bend but they don’t snap that easily. That Sam and Aubrey will always be my friends.
I carry that with me as I pull into the parking lot and kill the engine. I get out of the car and head toward the front of the building, my bag heavy on my shoulder. Halfway there, I stop. Just a quick second. Long enough to get annoyed with myself.
Tia is up near the front doors with her little group huddled behind her. Smaller than it used to be. Thinner now, less impressive. Nowhere near as big as Nicole’s crowd. She doesn’t run the school anymore. Aubrey made damn sure of that.
And yet my feet hesitate anyway whenever she is around.
I hate that I pause, that my body reacts before my brain has a chance to catch up. Muscle memory is a cruel thing. It doesn’t care about logic, growth, or the fact that she doesn’t hold power here anymore. It simply reacts.
I hate that I even give her a sliver of space in my head after everything. After the cafeteria with the whole chocolate milk thing. Cold and sticky, soaking through my clothes, dripping down my hair while the whole room stared. While she laughed as my face burned, my stomach dropped, and the room spun.
That moment etched itself into me more deeply than I care to admit.
My brain still glitches there sometimes. Still stutters and short-circuits even when I know she’s been knocked off her throne.
I curl my fingers tighter around the strap on my shoulder, knuckles whitening, and straighten my spine. I force my feet to move even though every instinct wants to hesitate. I’m done letting old ghosts trip me up. I’ve got enough shit on my plate without dragging her name along with it.
I’m not that girl anymore. I survived that, survived her, and rebuilt myself piece by piece when no one was looking.
So I walk.
If she looks at me sideways today, I’ll survive that too. If she laughs or whispers, pretends I still matter enough to hate, I’ll get through all of it. Because she doesn’t get to own my mornings anymore.
