Chapter 2

Avery's pov

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

My eyes flung open and locked onto the face hovering above me. Sharp jawline. Dark, steady eyes. Wet hair pushed back like he’d just stepped out of the water himself. For one dizzy second, the only thought that formed in my head was purely stupid.

Am I in heaven?

Is this utterly breathtaking man the angel sent to accompany me to God?

I mean…take me home sugar daddy.

Then reality came crashing back into me like a freight train as my eyes caught the familiar background.

I looked down. 

My clothes were completely soaked, clinging to every curve. The thin white top might as well have been invisible. My nipples stood out hard against the fabric, impossible to miss.

My eyes went wide.

“You fucking pervert!” I scrambled upright so fast my head spun.

The guy blinked fast, his eyebrows raising in confusion. “Pervert? What the fuck are you talking about? I literally just saved you.”

“Shut—shit—what did you do to me?” My voice cracked. “Did you fucking touch me?”

He rolled his eyes so hard it was almost impressive. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. I save a life and this is what I get. Great. Just fucking great.”

He turned and started walking away without another word.

“Hey! Hey, don’t you dare walk away from me!” I shouted after him, water still dripping down my legs. “Heyyy!”

He never slowed, never looked back.

I stood there dripping, chest heaving, and hissed under my breath, “Why’s everyone walking out on me today?”

The second the words left my mouth, the full weight of everything crashed down. 

Ethan’s voice, the laughter, the scrapbook hitting the floor. The way he’d looked at me like I was nothing more than a long-running punchline. 

My knees went soft and the pool lights blurred. I wrapped my arms around myself and just…stood there feeling completely alone.

*****

“Wait. Let me get this straight.” Lucille sat cross-legged on my bed, eyes locked on me like she was watching the best reality show of her life. “You mean you were saved by a literal demigod and instead of thanking him you accused him of touching you?”

I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. “In my defense, I had just woken up from something traumatizing and my head was not screwed on straight.”

Lucille burst out laughing, loud and shameless. Then her expression darkened. “Ethan. That jerk. I’d crush him if I had the fucking chance.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary,” I said quietly. The anger was already hardening into something colder. “I’ll do the crushing myself. First by attending the hockey season house party happening this evening.”

Lucille’s grin stretched wide. “Go girlllll.”

“I’ll show the bastard that I’m far better than his piece-of-shit girlfriend.” I said, my lips widening into a determined grin.

“We better be getting ready then.”

I managed a small smile, stood up, and headed for the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later we were both done—hair perfect, makeup sharp, outfits chosen to kill. I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back. She looked like someone who wasn’t still drowning.

Lucille checked her reflection one last time, then froze.

“I think…” she started, her voice carrying across the room. “I think I want to poo.”

“Right now?” I stared at her, my eyebrows raising slightly. “Of all times?”

She waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Go without me.” Then she rushed back inside, already tugging at her dress.

I sighed, grabbed my bag, and hailed a cab alone.

The house party was already loud when I arrived. 

Bass thumped through the walls. Bodies were rocking other bodies, lots of dick pressing unto butts, shits that would have been considered sexual harassment on a normal day but since it's an house party. Oh well, anything goes. 

I forced myself onto the dance floor, hips moving, smile fixed in place like armor.

Then the front door opened.

I felt it before I fully registered the movement—some shift in the air, a sudden dip in the music like the whole house had inhaled at once. 

My body knew before my mind did.

Ethan walked in.

For half a second the sight of him almost felt ordinary. 

Same confident stride, same easy smile he wore when he knew people were watching. The same boy I’d spent two years building an entire future around.

Then my eyes dropped to the hand linked with his.

Lucille.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at them.

Brunette.Journalism.Captain of the debate club.

The words from the hallway slammed into me so hard I actually staggered a step. 

No. It couldn’t be.

Not Lucille.  

My lungs forgot how to work. The bass from the speakers turned into a distant throb under the sudden roaring in my ears. 

I had been so stupid.

My feet moved before any conscious decision formed. I pushed through the crowd, bodies parting around me like they could feel the heat rolling off my skin. People were still dancing, still laughing, still living in a world where the floor hadn’t just disappeared.

I stopped right in front of them.

“What the fuck, Lucille?” My voice came out sharper and thinner than I expected. “What’s going on here?”

Ethan smiled, the kind of smile that said he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“I believe you guys have met,” he said, almost gently, “so there’s actually no need for too much introduction. Avery… this is my girlfriend, Lucille.”

The floor dropped out from under me.

Not metaphorically. It felt physical—like the ground had simply ceased to exist and I was suspended in pure freefall. 

My stomach lurched. My vision narrowed to Lucille’s face, to the bright, familiar eyes that were looking at me without a single trace of guilt.

“No… no, Lu…” The words scraped out of me. “That’s not possible.”

Lucille burst into laughter.

It was the exact same bright, cocky, unrestrained sound I’d heard a thousand times—in my room, in my car, over shared fries at 2 a.m. 

“How long?” I asked, my voice shaky as hell. “How long has this been going on?”

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with something almost playful. “Longer than you can count.”

Ethan stood beside her like a man who’d just been handed a trophy. The pride on his face was open, almost glowing. He wanted me to see it. He wanted me to understand that I had never been the real choice.

I forced my shoulders back even though every muscle wanted to fold in on itself.

“You know something, Ethan?” My voice shook, but I kept going. “I always knew you were a jerk. And I’m glad this pathetic relationship is over.”

He chuckled, soft and mean, the sound sliding under my skin like ice.

“Aww. Look at her acting strong. Like she isn’t going to bawl her eyes out the second she gets home tonight.”

The words landed exactly where he meant them to. Because part of me already knew he was right. Part of me was already imagining the quiet of my room, the way the silence would press in once there was no more anger left to hold me up.

My gaze flicked past his shoulder, desperate for anything else to look at.

And there it was.

A massive promotional poster dominated the far wall—Luca Kingston, captain of the team Ethan had just joined, staring down at the entire party like he owned every soul in the room. 

“Actually,” I said, louder than I meant to, loud enough that a few people nearby turned, “speaking of plans tonight…”  

I lifted my hand and pointed straight at the poster.

“I have plans with my boyfriend. Luca.”

The silence that followed stretched out for an eternity.

Lucille’s laugh came out sharp this time, almost delighted. “There’s no way in hell Luca Kingston would agree to date someone like you.”

Ethan smirked, clearly enjoying the show. “Right, Luca?” he said, his gaze focusing directly behind me.

I turned back and my eyes widened.