Guess I’ll tell them later.
I grab my books from my locker and slam it shut harder than necessary. The metal clang echoes down the hallway, sharp and final, and I shoulder my bag before heading toward the first lesson of the day.
I don’t get far before I pass him.
Jace, leaning against the lockers, his posture lazy, confidence rooted in him. He looks up, eyes scanning me in a way that makes my skin prickle.
“Bells,” he says, voice low, slipping under my guard whether I want it to or not.
“Jace,” I reply, without breaking stride.
And fuck me if he doesn’t look stupidly hot today. Hair a mess in that effortless way. Shirt fitting him just right. I hate that my brain homes in on his mouth—that stupid mouth he never kisses anyone with. I catch myself wondering what it would be like if he did. If it would be rough and reckless or slow and careful. All heat and hunger or something softer I don’t want to admit I crave.
I shut it down and keep walking before the thoughts spiral out of control and mess with me.
I step into the classroom before the teacher arrives, the room already full. Sam and Reece are seated in their usual spots, knees angled toward each other. Noah and Aubrey are a few rows over, heads bent together, quiet laughter between them.
I hesitate for a moment, then head to the only empty table remaining.
Two seats over from them. Close enough to hear them if I lean in, but far enough to remind me I’m on the outside again.
I settle into the chair and put my books down. Once again, I’m sitting alone.
By lunchtime, I’m exhausted.
Not the tiredness you fix with coffee or a nap.
The other kind that settles behind your eyes and makes everything feel heavier than it should. Emotionally exhausted. Worn down. Too many silences stacked one after another. Too many damn reminders that everything has shifted, and I’m the one still trying to learn the new rules.
I drift into the cafeteria on autopilot, eyes flicking to the menu board out of habit, trying to decide whether I should eat the leftovers I packed today or cave in and grab whatever they’re serving. Today it’s chicken wraps and fries. I actually like the wraps when they’re not dried to hell.
I grab a tray anyway and shuffle to the end of the line, staring at the back of someone’s hoodie while my mind keeps doing its thing.
I glance towards our usual table.
Sam is curled into Reece’s side, legs tucked in close, stealing fries straight off his plate while he talks about something and she laughs into his shoulder. Aubrey is turned toward Noah, voice low, fingers brushing his wrist as she talks. Intimate. Easy. Like this is the most natural thing in the world.
They look happy.
I stand there with the tray in my hands and feel that familiar hollow open up in my chest. The one that keeps telling me I’m about to sit down and disappear again. Smile. Nod. Eat quietly. Be background noise in a room that doesn’t notice when I leave.
I don’t think I can do that today.
I set the tray back on the pile, and turn away before I can change my mind. I push through the doors and walk out, letting the noise of the cafeteria fade behind me.
The library is practically empty, which is just what I need.
No boys draped over their girls. No couples tangled up in each other as if they’ll stop breathing if they aren’t touching. Just the quiet hum of the air vents and the familiar scent of old books and floor polish. Safe. Predictable.
I head to the back corner and drop my bag onto the same table where I tutored Jace yesterday. The chair scrapes softly as I pull it out. I take a deep breath before sitting.
I pull out my lunch. Leftovers. Creamy pasta with bacon and tomato. Dad’s specialty when he’s trying to prove he can cook something that didn’t come from a jar. I eat it cold straight from the container, twirling the noodles slowly and carefully, like if I take my time with it I won’t have to think so hard.
I flip open the battered paperback of Jane Eyre I shoved into my bag this morning. The spine is cracked, and the pages are soft from too many rereads. Comfort disguised as literature.
But I’m not really reading.
I wish I could tell Sam and Aubrey how strange this all is now. How everything shifted so quietly I didn’t notice it happening. How they’re orbiting new planets now, pulled into lives that revolve around someone else, while I’m still spinning in my own little galaxy, watching it all change from afar.
