INICIAR SESIÓNClifford is a bright, athletic high school senior with a stubborn grin behind his reading glasses and a future in finance waiting on the other side of graduation. He’s popular enough to feel seen, yet in the shadow of a relationship that looks flawless but is anything but. Clair, his girlfriend, is the town’s sweetheart. Beautiful, charming, and suspiciously aloof about Clifford’s growing unease. His world tilts when he meets Tyler, the school’s enigmatic star player: tall, quick witted, and radiating danger and charm. Tyler’s circle knows his truth, even if he won’t broadcast it, and his gaze keeps finding Clifford across crowded halls and quiet classrooms. A party spins everything into questions when a game of spin the bottle sends a spark that neither can ignore. A kiss, sudden and charged, shatters Clifford’s certainty and ignites a dangerous longing he’s afraid to name. As rumours swirl and pressures, mount from grades, parents, and old loyalties. Clifford must decide what kind of man he wants to be. Is desire a betrayal of the life he’s planned, or the doorway to his truest self? With Leonard’s sci fi wisdom and Tara’s fearless energy on the sidelines, Clifford discovers that growing up isn’t about choosing one path, it’s about finding the courage to follow the right one, even when the future isn’t clear.
Ver másFor a while, neither of us moved. The closet felt smaller than before, smaller than physics should’ve allowed. Like the shelves had shifted inward and the hanging coats were trying to suffocate me. My skin was too hot. My hands were trembling. My lungs couldn’t work out how to process air. Tyler’s breathing was rough behind me, uneven enough that some distant, insane part of my brain registered it with satisfaction. Then the rest of my brain remembered Clair. Clair laughing, saying my name, saying I was safe, stable and smart. How she mentioned my families money, my goal of a high paying finance job, her options on the side and how oblivious I was to almost everything. My stomach turned so sharply I thought I might be sick. Tyler’s hand left me carefully, like he’d suddenly realised I wasn't there. The absence of it made me feel exposed. Cold, wrong in a way I couldn’t explain without wanting to punch a hole through the nearest wall.
I should have left the closet. I was acutely aware of how small the closet was. There was barely enough room to stand without our chests brushing. Shelves pressed in on both sides, cardboard boxes stacked high overhead, and hanging clothes dragged across my shoulders every time I breathed too deep. The door had barely clicked shut before Tyler had me backed against the wall, one hand planted beside my head, the other already sliding low on my hip like he owned the space between us.And fuck, he did. I was already breathing hard, pulse hammering in my throat. Not from the stairs, or from the party downstairs. From him. From the week of constant teasing, the locker room brushes, the library table stares, the way he’d smirk like he could see straight through every lie I told myself about Clair. From the fight still burning under my skin and the sudden, humiliating certainty that I’d followed him up here anyway.Tyler looked down at me, blue eyes dark in the thin strip
I left the bedroom before I said something I couldn’t take back. The hallway outside felt cooler, darker, easier to breathe in than the room I’d just walked out of. Behind me, I could still hear the tail end of Clair’s voice sharp, offended, furious that I wouldn’t just do what she wanted and stop making everything difficult. I didn’t look back. My jaw was tight enough to hurt. The whole argument was still burning through me in ugly fragments. I hit the stairs too fast, one hand brushing the wall as I took them, and nearly walked straight into someone at the bottom. A hand caught my shoulder before we collided properly. “Easy, Hayes.” Of course it was Tyler. I looked up too quickly and found him standing right there in the half light of the hall, one hand still on my shoulder, expression already halfway amused. “You trying to break your neck?” he asked. “I’m fine.” He gave me one
By Friday, I had made the mistake of thinking I understood how bad things were. That was on me. I had my grades pulling back into line, or at least wobbling in the right direction. Leonard had stopped looking at me like I was one badly formatted spreadsheet away from collapse. Tara had gone from calling me haunted to calling me “annoyingly mysterious.". Even Clair had been easier with me for a couple of days. Less sharp, less suspicious and more openly affectionate in the hallways like she was reclaiming territory she thought had started slipping. It should have felt like relief.Instead it felt like standing on thin ice and hearing cracks under the surface every time Tyler came too close.Which was often enough to be a problem. He’d brushed his hand against my back near the lockers that morning when a crowd of juniors jammed the corridor, and my body had reacted so stupidly fast that I’d had to pretend I was coughing just to cover the hitch in my breathing. Later,
The car ride home should’ve been easy. Clair was in a good mood, half turned toward me in the passenger seat with one leg tucked under herself, talking about who had worn what, who had embarrassed themselves and who was definitely hooking up with who by the look of it. She was bright and animated
I should’ve left the second I saw the bottle. That’s the easiest version of the story to tell now. The clean one. The one where I stand up, laugh it off, drag Clair out with me, and spend the rest of the night making fun of Tara for having the emotional maturity of a fourteen year old with a ligh
By Friday afternoon, I had already said no to Tara three times.The first no happened before homeroom, when she cornered me at my locker and informed me that “attendance was mandatory” in the tone of someone announcing military service.The second happened at lunch, when she sat on the edge of our
I liked routines because routines made promises. If I got up at the same time every morning, packed my bag the night before, checked my deadlines twice, and kept my notes in order, then things stayed manageable. Predictable. The world didn’t exactly become easy, but it became something I could sort






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