MINE TO BULLY

Ezra's pov

Ezra Monroe hated the cafeteria.

Every student at Ashford Academy seemed to have a place there. The athletes claimed the center tables like kings holding court. The cheerleaders occupied the tables closest to the windows. The drama club gathered near the stage. Even the quiet kids had their own corner.

Ezra had a table too.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t by choice.

It was the table everyone left for him.

Not because they were being kind. Quite the opposite.

Nobody wanted to sit with the fat kid.

The joke.

The embarrassment.

The son of Senator Monroe.

Ezra stabbed absentmindedly at his lunch while pretending not to hear the whispers drifting from nearby tables.

“Did you see him in gym today?”

“I swear his shirt looked like it was fighting for its life.”

A few students snickered.

Ezra kept his eyes on his tray.

Years ago, those comments would have ruined his day.

Now they barely made him blink.

Or at least that was what he told himself.

The truth was they still hurt.

They always would.

No matter how many times he heard them.

No matter how many times he pretended otherwise.

The cafeteria doors suddenly swung open.

The room immediately grew louder.

Ezra didn’t need to look up to know who had arrived.

His body recognized the reaction before his mind did.

The tightening in his chest.

The nervous flutter in his stomach.

The ridiculous hope that maybe today would somehow be different.

It never was.

Jace Ryland walked into the cafeteria surrounded by half the football team.

Laughter followed him.

Attention followed him.

People practically moved out of his way.

Jace carried popularity as naturally as breathing.

Dark hair, sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and the kind of confidence that couldn’t be taught. Everything about him seemed effortless.

Ezra hated that he noticed.

He hated that after three years of humiliation, his eyes still searched for Jace the second he entered a room.

Most of all, he hated that he was in love with him.

The feeling was pathetic.

Humiliating.

And completely impossible to kill.

“Look who it is.”

Ezra’s stomach dropped.

The voice came from directly above him.

He slowly lifted his head.

Jace stood at his table.

Three teammates lingered behind him, already grinning.

The show was about to begin.

It always began this way.

Every single day.

“Hey, Monroe,” Jace said casually.

Ezra forced himself to meet his gaze.

“Ryland.”

The boys behind Jace laughed immediately.

One of them nudged another.

“Aw, he knows your name.”

More laughter followed.

Ezra looked away.

Jace pulled out the empty chair across from him and sat down without invitation.

The entire cafeteria seemed to perk up.

Students were watching now.

Waiting.

Nobody wanted to miss the daily entertainment.

Jace leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“You’re eating alone again.”

Ezra stared at his tray.

“So?”

“So it’s kind of sad.”

His teammates laughed.

Ezra’s jaw tightened.

“Then don’t sit here.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

A dangerous mistake.

The laughter instantly died.

Several nearby students looked shocked.

Nobody talked back to Jace.

Not unless they enjoyed suffering.

Jace raised an eyebrow.

For a moment, Ezra thought he had genuinely surprised him.

Then the familiar smirk appeared.

“There he is.”

“What?”

“The personality.”

His friends burst out laughing again.

Jace pointed at him.

“I was starting to think somebody replaced you with a cardboard cutout.”

The table erupted.

A few students at neighboring tables joined in.

Ezra felt heat creep into his face.

He hated this.

He hated them.

He hated himself for sitting there and taking it.

Most of all, he hated the tiny part of him that still wanted Jace’s attention.

Even when it came like this.

Especially when it came like this.

Because attention was attention.

And some twisted part of Ezra would rather be noticed cruelly than ignored completely.

“Tell me something,” Jace continued. “How many lunches do you eat?”

The boys behind him nearly choked with laughter.

Ezra felt his stomach twist.

There it was.

The weight jokes.

Always the weight jokes.

The easiest target.

The favorite target.

Jace rested his chin on his hand.

“I’m genuinely curious.”

More laughter.

Ezra stared at his tray.

His appetite had disappeared.

Not that he’d had much of one to begin with.

Something cold settled inside him.

A familiar feeling.

The same feeling Jace left behind every time he walked away.

“You done?” Ezra asked quietly.

Jace blinked.

“What?”

“Are you done?”

The cafeteria grew strangely quiet.

Even the football players stopped laughing.

Ezra stood from his chair and grabbed his backpack.

“I know everybody thinks you’re funny,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “I just don’t.”

For a second, nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Jace’s smirk disappeared.

Not completely.

Just enough.

As if something about the statement had caught him off guard.

Then one of his teammates barked out a laugh.

The spell broke instantly.

“Jesus, Monroe’s got attitude.”

“Maybe he’s finally growing a spine.”

The cafeteria exploded with laughter again.

Ezra should have left.

Instead, he made the mistake of looking directly at Jace.

Their eyes met.

For one brief moment, neither of them looked away.

Something strange passed between them.

Not kindness.

Definitely not kindness.

But not mockery either.

It was gone before Ezra could understand it.

Jace leaned back in his chair.

“Careful, Monroe.”

The smirk returned.

Bigger this time.

“Damn.”

His teammates were already laughing.

Jace’s gaze never left Ezra’s.

“I almost thought you were interesting.”

The laughter hit harder than every joke before it.

Because somehow that one felt personal.

Because for a second, Ezra had thought he saw something different in Jace’s eyes.

Something real.

Clearly he had imagined it.

Embarrassment flooded him.

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

The laughter followed him all the way to the cafeteria doors.

He kept walking.

Kept his head down.

Kept pretending he couldn’t feel hundreds of eyes on his back.

Only when the doors closed behind him did he finally stop.

His chest hurt.

Not because Jace had humiliated him.

That wasn’t new.

What hurt was knowing that tomorrow he would walk into that cafeteria again.

Tomorrow he would see Jace again.

Tomorrow he would still be stupid enough to love him.

Back inside, conversations slowly resumed. Trays clattered, and students returned to eating as though nothing had happened.

The show was over, but Jace wasn’t paying attention to any of them. His eyes remained fixed on the cafeteria doors, on the place where Ezra had disappeared.

“You know,” Mason said, dropping into the seat beside him, “one day he’s actually going to punch you.”

Jace looked away from the doors and grabbed a fry from Mason’s tray.

“Doubt it.”

“You kind of deserve it.”

A few of the football players laughed.

Jace didn’t.

His gaze drifted back toward the exit.

For some reason, the look on Ezra’s face before he left wouldn’t leave his head.

It should have.

Jace had been messing with Ezra for years.

It was practically a tradition at this point.

So why did today feel different?

Why did it feel like he’d crossed a line he couldn’t quite see?

The question lingered long after lunch ended.

And for the first time in a very long time, Jace found himself wondering what would happen if Ezra Monroe finally stopped coming back.