I was still staring at my laptop screen when Naomi burst through my bedroom door without knocking, which was pretty much her signature move at this point.“Lily, I need you to—oh my God. You look like you wrestled with a ghost and lost.” She stopped mid-sentence, taking in my pajamas, my unwashed hair, the fact that I clearly hadn’t slept. “What happened? Did someone die?”“Just tired,” I lied, quickly closing the laptop. The last thing I needed was her seeing my college application or my midnight research spiral into supernatural folklore.“Uh-huh.” She didn’t buy it, but she was too distracted to push. “I was on my way to grab coffee with my mom, but I had to stop by first. A big one.”I rubbed my eyes. “What kind of favor?”Instead of answering, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her back pocket and held it out like it might explode. Her cheeks were already turning pink.“I did something stupid.”I rubbed my eyes. “It’s not even eight AM on a Saturday. How stupid could you hav
The gym lights were too bright against my eyes. I was sitting in my usual spot on the bench, my clipboard balanced on my knees, watching our boys warm up for the game. But something felt off. “You ready for this?” Coach Martinez asked, but his voice sounded distant, muffled. I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be ready for. The scoreboard showed we’d already won—28-26, 25-23, 25-21—but the game was still happening. Players were still moving across the court in a slow motion. Luca went up for a spike, his body arcing through the air. But when he came down, his landing was too hard and I heard that sickening crack again. Something was definitely wrong. “Luca!” I was on my feet, moving toward the court, but my legs felt like they were moving through water. He was on his knees, hunched over, his shoulders shaking. The other players backed away, forming a circle around him. Even from the bench, I could hear his ragged and desperate breathing. “What’s happening?
Tyler got reported for neighborhood disturbances so the party was at Jake’s house instead, his parents conveniently out of town for the weekend. By the time I arrived with Naomi, the celebration was in full swing. Everyone was either dancing, or trying to find someone to make out with under the excuse of “state champions.”,“I’ve decided,” she said, eyes sweeping the room. “Tonight is the night I finally get some damn action.”I didn’t even look at her. “That sounds like the start of a PSA.”“I’m serious, Lily. I’m riding this championship high all the way to someone’s mouth.”“Romantic.”Naomi ignored me, scanning the crowd. “Jake’s looking especially edible. Or maybe I should just say screw it and make a move on Luca. I mean, he did bleed all over the court. That’s practically foreplay.”I turned to give her a deadpan look. “Naomi.”She grinned, unbothered. “Relax. I’m mostly joking.”“Define mostly.”She shrugged. “It’s not my fault your mortal enemy’s kind of hot. You should’ve cl
The sound was sickening. Luca hit the floor hard, and the gym went silent. I was moving before I realized it. But the team medic was already there, kneeling beside Luca’s crumpled form. “Let me see,” he said. But when he cut away the fabric of Luca’s shorts, his face went white. The gash was deep, running from his knee to mid-thigh. Blood was everywhere, soaking into the court, pooling beneath him. It looked bad—the kind of cut that needed stitches. But as I knelt beside him, something made me freeze. The wound was… smaller than it should have been. He dabbed at the blood with gauze, then stopped. His face went pale. “What the hell?” the medic whispered. “This wound… it’s closing.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I could see the confusion in his eyes, the way he was trying to process what he was seeing. In another few seconds, he’d start asking questions. Not here, not now, not with hundreds of people watching. “He bleeds too much from little wounds,” I said, grabbin
The fake stomach flu lasted three days. Three days of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and pretending to be sick when really I was just… sad I guess. Maybe a bit depressed, but that gave me the break I needed to pull myself together. My mom brought me soup I didn’t want every single day. My dad checked my temperature with the back of his hand like I was seven again. And Luca… Luca stopped trying to corner me. I should have been relieved. This was what I wanted, right? So why did the silence feel worse than fighting? Last night , I heard him talking to my parents in the kitchen. “She’s just recovering,” he said. “The whole thing with graduation, the upcoming game… maybe she just needs time.” “I’m worried about her,” my mom said. “She’s been so withdrawn lately.” “She’ll be okay. She’s much stronger than you think.” I pressed my ear to the door, hating myself for eavesdropping but unable to stop. When had he started defending me to my parents? When had he started understan
I ignored it, pulling my pillow over my head. He tried again, more insistently this time.“Go away,” I called out, my voice muffled by the pillow.“Lily, please. I need to talk to you.”“There’s nothing to talk about.”“There’s everything to talk about. What I said—”“Was the truth. So congratulations, you finally said what you really think of me.”Silence stretched between us, broken only by the sound of my own ragged breathing.“That’s not what I think of you,” he said finally.“Isn’t it? Because it sounded pretty convincing.”“I was angry. I said something stupid.”“You said something honest. There’s a difference.”“Lily, please. Open the window.”“No.”“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”“Then I hope you’re comfortable out there, because I’m not opening this window. I’m done, Luca. Done with the fighting, done with the drama, done with pretending we can live in the same house without wanting to kill each other.”“You don’t mean that.”“I mean every word. Find somewhere else t