10

MAYA

"Just leave me alone."

Pushing past his broad frame, my boots hit the carpet of my dorm room with heavy, frantic thuds. Tears burned the back of my eyes, hot and sharp. A violent shudder ripped through my spine. The adrenaline crash from the roaring bonfire, the brutal fistfight, and the raw heat of that cabin all hit me at the exact same time. My chest tightened until drawing a simple breath felt like swallowing crushed glass.

Davies stepped inside and kicked the heavy wooden door shut. The loud click of the lock echoed in the quiet room, sealing us inside.

"Maya, look at me." His voice held a rough, steady edge. He reached out, his large palm hovering near my trembling shoulder. "The idiot is gone. You are safe."

"Don't touch me!" Smacking his hand away, a broken sob tore from my throat.

He dropped his arm, but his dark eyes stayed locked onto my face. He refused to step back. His messy hair and bruised jaw made him look dangerous, yet his gaze held genuine concern. That concern only made my stomach twist tighter into painful knots.

"We are talking about this right now," Davies ordered, his tone firm and leaving no room for escape.

"There is nothing to talk about!" Grabbing a throw pillow from my bed, raw anger spiked in my veins. "This is a total mess! Everything is moving way too fast."

Crossing his arms, his chest stretched the fabric of his ruined flannel shirt. "What exactly is moving fast? You handled Nathan fine out there. You stood your ground and let him make a fool of himself."

"Us!" Tossing the pillow onto the mattress, sheer frustration boiled over. "We signed a fake dating contract two days ago. Two days, Davies! And tonight we... we did that in the cabin. We hooked up. We crossed a massive line. This was supposed to be business. A simple PR stunt for the media to save your draft stock. Not whatever the hell that was!"

Silence stretched between us. He watched me pace the narrow floor. A slow, arrogant smirk soon spread across his handsome face. He leaned back against the closed door, trapping me inside my own room with his imposing frame.

"Maybe things moved fast because you liked it," he taunted, his voice dropping into a dark, rough rumble. "You were not complaining when your nails were digging into my back. You were begging for more. You wanted it just as bad as I did."

Asshole.

Heat scorched my cheeks. My jaw clenched tight enough to cause a dull ache near my temples. Hearing him say it out loud made the memory flash behind my eyes. The feeling of his skin against mine. The overwhelming pleasure. It terrified me.

"Go to hell, Davies."

"You took me there tonight, sweetheart."

"You arrogant jerk!" Snatching my denim jacket off the desk chair, my heart pounded a frantic, erratic beat. "I wish I never signed that stupid paper. I wish I could opt out right this second and never see your cocky face again."

His smirk vanished. A cold, hard mask fell over his features, freezing the air in the room. He stared at me for a long, silent second. His jaw ticked. Then, he stepped aside, leaving the doorway clear.

Without a single glance backward, I barged past him. My shoulder clipped his chest on the way out, but he did not budge. The heavy door slammed shut behind me, the sound vibrating down the empty hallway.

Cold night air bit at my exposed neck as my boots hit the concrete sidewalk. Streetlights cast long, yellow shadows over the empty campus paths. The bass from the distant bonfire still thumped in the air, a faint reminder of the chaos I just escaped.

My chest felt hollow. An aching emptiness settled deep in my stomach.

Revenge was supposed to taste sweet. Watching Nathan eat dirt in front of half the school should have felt like a massive victory. Having the hottest guy on campus punch my toxic ex in the face should have fixed my broken pride.

It fixed nothing.

Davies was actually a cool guy. Underneath his arrogant hockey captain persona, he checked on my boundaries. He made sure I gave clear consent before doing anything in that dark cabin. He shielded me from Nathan's violent rage without a second thought. He proved to be ten times the man Nathan ever was.

Yet, the whole situation felt wrong. Using him to get back at my ex made me feel cheap and vindictive. The fake contract weighed like an iron chain around my neck. I traded one toxic mess for a complicated, fiery disaster. My life was spinning out of my grasp, and catching feelings for a guy who was just using me for good PR was a fatal mistake.

A sharp buzz vibrating in my pocket pulled me out of my dark thoughts.

Taking out my phone, the cracked screen lit up with a new text message. It was from Dr. Aris, sent an hour ago while I was distracted in the woods.

*Your mother is recovering well from the afternoon treatment. Vitals are stable. You can visit tonight.*

Relief washed over me, raw and powerful. That tiny string of words was the only good thing to happen all week. Shoving the device back into my pocket, my pace quickened into a jog.

The hospital sat twenty minutes away from campus. Taking a bus felt like a waste of precious time. I needed to see her. I needed an anchor to ground my spinning mind. The walk gave me time to clear the lingering scent of Davies’s wintergreen cologne from my senses.

The familiar smell of bleach and stale coffee hit my nose the second the automatic doors slid open. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly white glare over the shiny linoleum floors. Walking past the front reception desk, a tired nurse gave a brief nod of recognition.

Room 412 sat at the far end of the quiet hallway.

Pushing the heavy wooden door open, the steady beep of a heart monitor greeted my ears.

Mom lay on the narrow hospital bed. She looked frail. Her skin held a pale, grayish tint, and dark purple circles bruised the delicate skin under her eyes. Clear tubes snaked from her thin arms, connecting to a loud machine near the wall. The chemotherapy drained the life from her, leaving a fragile shell behind.

Despite her weak exterior, her eyes snapped open. A sharp spark of life danced in her dark brown irises.

"Look who decided to show up," she rasped, her voice dry like old sandpaper. "I was starting to think you cashed in my life insurance early."

A startled gasp left my mouth. "Mom! Do not say things like that."

"Why not?" She shifted on the thin mattress, wincing as a plastic wire tugged her arm. "If I kick the bucket tomorrow, you get a fat payout. You could buy a nice car. Maybe one of those little red convertibles. Leave this miserable town and run off to the beach. Live a little."

Walking over to the cheap plastic chair beside her bed, a heavy sigh escaped my lips. Sitting down, my fingers gently wrapped around her cool, fragile hand. "I do not want a car. I want you healthy. Dr. Aris texted. He said your treatment went well today."

"Dr. Aris is a liar in a white coat," Mom shot back, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "He said the needle would just be a little pinch. A pinch! It felt like a hornet with a personal vendetta stabbed me in the spine. I almost punched him right in his perfect teeth."

"You cannot assault your oncologist."

"Watch me." She squeezed my fingers weakly. "Next time he comes in here with that stupid clipboard, I am tripping him. Put it on my tab. The hospital can bill me for the damages."

A genuine laugh bubbled up from my chest. It felt foreign. After days of crying, screaming, and fighting, the sound of my own laughter echoed like a strange, beautiful melody in the sterile room.

Mom smiled. It was a small, tired curve of her cracked lips, but it held so much warmth.

"There is that smile," she whispered, her eyes softening into a tender gaze. She studied my face for a long moment. "You look like you have been through a war zone, Maya. Your jacket is buttoned wrong, your hair is a bird's nest, and your lipstick is smeared somewhere near your chin. What is going on?"

Glancing down, heat rushed to my face in a fresh wave. She was right. In my frantic rush to escape Davies and my own spinning head, my clothes were a total disaster.

"Long night," offering a weak excuse, my hands fixed the denim jacket quickly. "Just dumb college drama. Nothing important."

"Drama," she repeated, raising a skeptical, thin eyebrow. "Does this drama have a name? Or a mugshot? Because if you are dating a criminal, make sure he has enough money to pay for my medical bills."

"Mom!"

"What? A dying woman has to secure the bag, Maya. It is basic economics. Tell me you finally dumped that whining loser, Nathan. He always looked like a wet rat."

"Yes," a small, honest smile touched my lips. "I dumped him. It is over."

"Thank God," she let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "I was worried I would have to haunt him from the grave. So, who is the new guy? The one who smeared your lipstick?"

"It is complicated. We are just... figuring things out."

"Figuring things out," she mocked gently. "Just make sure he treats you right. If he acts up, bring him here. I still have enough strength to hit him with a bedpan."

"I will keep that in mind."

"Good." She closed her eyes, her eyelids drooping slightly from sheer exhaustion. "Now let me sleep. Being this funny is exhausting work."

My chest shook with another bout of silent laughter. The dark, morbid humor was her ultimate defense mechanism. It always had been. Growing up poor with an absent dad, she taught me how to laugh when the world was burning down around us. She found the joke in the tragedy.

Sitting in that cold room, holding her frail hand, the heavy emptiness in my gut finally started to fade. The drama with Nathan, the confusing heat with Davies, the viral videos, the fake contract—none of it mattered in here. This was real life. The outside noise went silent.

"I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, kid," she mumbled, her breathing evening out into a steady, calm rhythm.

Watching her rest, a genuine smile stayed fixed on my face. For the first time in days, I felt like I could actually breathe.