I get home from the hospital late.
The house is dark as I pull into the driveway. No lights are on in the kitchen. No glow comes from the living room window. There’s no sign of life at all.
It feels wrong somehow.
I turn off the engine and sit there for a moment, staring at the front door through the windshield.
Jace hasn’t responded to my earlier text. The one I sent after school, telling him I was going to the hospital and asking if he needed a ride home.
The text was just marked as delivered. It’s sitting there in blue, mocking me with its permanence.
Message delivered. Person who gives a shit… Not found.
I didn’t see him for the rest of the day after Nicole followed him down the hallway.
All day, jealousy spiked through me like poison. I couldn’t concentrate in class or focus on anything except the image of her blonde ponytail bouncing as she walked after him. The smirk on her face. The way she moved as if she knew exactly where he was going and that she was invited.
I hate feeling this way, sitting here wondering if he hooked up with her, if he touched her the way he touched me.
I know who Jace Cooper is. But a foolish part of me still wants to believe he didn’t.
I searched for him everywhere after that incident—in the cafeteria, between classes, scanning like some desperate clingy girl who can’t take a hint. Even in the parking lot after the final bell, standing there like a fucking idiot while everyone else drove away.
He was nowhere to be found. Or perhaps he was somewhere and simply didn’t want to be seen by me.
This is what Jace Cooper has turned me into. A girl pretending she isn’t searching for the one jerk who decided I no longer exist.
I grab my bag and head inside, flipping on lights as I go—the kitchen, the hallway—each one making the emptiness feel even more obvious.
I drop my bag on the kitchen table and take out my phone, typing another message to Jace.
Lola:Where are you?
I hit send and watch the screen.
The tiny dots show up almost instantly, making my heart jump into my throat.
He is typing.
I wait.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
The bubbles disappear.
Nothing. No message. Just the cruel tease of almost communication and then silence.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I mutter to the empty kitchen.
I toss my phone onto the table and press the heels of my hands against my eyes until I see stars behind my eyelids.
I have really good news to share with him. News that made me smile the entire drive home like an idiot. The kind that had me rehearsing what I would say, picturing the look on his face when I told him. Imagining the way his eyes might soften. The way he might actually let himself believe that good things can happen to him too.
But now it rests heavy in my chest like a stone. Unsaid. Unwanted, apparently.
