She keeps talking about needing to return a library book.
I lean against the doorframe and watch her.
“Ready?” she asks, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Yeah,” I say, with a nod. “Let’s go.”
We head to school.
The drive is quiet. Lola tries to fill the silence with conversation, mentioning something about the history assignment that’s due next week. She explains how she’s barelyhalfway through it and still needs to finish the research part before she can start writing.
“Maybe I should have done it at the hospital instead of just sitting there,” she says with a small laugh. “It would have at least been productive, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. Nothing else. Nothing more.
She goes quiet and I can sense her watching me from the driver’s seat. That confused, hurt look beginning to show on her face.
I don’t look back. I just stare out the window and let the silence sit between us.
She tries again a few minutes later. Something about a movie she wants to see this weekend. Some romantic comedy that sounds like absolute garbage.
“Cool,” I say.
Just that one word dropped between us with all the warmth of a brick wall.
By the time we pull into the parking lot, the tension between us is thick enough to choke on.
I get out before she even turns off the engine. The door slams louder than it needs to. The sound echoes across the parking lot.
I don’t wait for her. I don’t look back to see if she’s following or still sitting there trying to figure out what just happened. I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk ahead, cutting through the rows of cars with my head down and my jaw clenched. The mask slides back into place.
Some freshman kid steps into my path, too busy looking at his phone to pay attention to where he’s going.
“Fucking move, dipshit,” I snap.
His eyes widen behind his glasses as he scrambles out of the way, almost tripping over his own feet.
I don’t slow down. I keep walking toward the side of the building where the smokers gather before the first class of theday, where people know better than to ask questions or make small talk.
I pull the joint out of my pocket and light it. The first drag burns my throat and settles in my lungs. It’s familiar. Grounding. The smoke rises in front of me, drifting toward the gray morning sky.
This is who the fuck I am.
Not the guy who holds her in the kitchen while she wraps her arms around my waist. Not the guy who memorizes the way she smells, the sound of her laugh, or how she fits perfectly under my chin.
This… Standing behind a dumpster, smoking weed before class. Telling kids to get the fuck out of my way without a second thought.
This life is mine, and the sooner I return to it, the better.
Chapter Nineteen
Lola
Jace doesn’t look back. He just continues walking toward the school as if I’m not even there.
Through the windshield, I watch him cross the parking lot. His shoulders are tense, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, as that familiar careless swagger returns the closer he gets to the building. The asshole mask he wears so effortlessly—the one everyone at Eastern High expects from Jace Cooper. The one I thought he had taken off.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I mutter under my breath.
