Chapter 4:Lily

By the time I make it to campus, first period is half over. I slip into English class with my sunglasses still on, ignoring Ms. Chen's disapproving look as I slide into my seat.

It takes approximately three seconds to realize something's wrong.

The whispers start immediately. Heads turn. Someone snickers from the back row. Beside me, Kara slides her phone onto my desk, open to someone's I*******m story.

My stomach drops as I stare at the screen. It's me, standing by the pool in nothing but my black bralette and partially unbuttoned jeans, looking very drunk. The caption reads: LILY GRAVES GONE WILD🔥🔥🔥

I scroll down. The next story shows me slapping Ethan, the sound of palm against cheek almost audible in the crystal-clear video. Someone's added a soundtrack "Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood.

I hand Kara's phone back,my face burning beneath the sunglasses.

"Everyone's seen it," she whispers, not unkindly. "And there's more. They're saying you and Luca Archer left together."

"We did not—" I start, then stop myself. Technically, we did.

"It's fine," I say instead, pulling out my notebook with shaking hands. "I don't care."

But I do care. I care very much.

By third period, the whispers have evolved into full-blown conversations that halt abruptly when I walk by. Someone's made a meme of my slap, with the caption "FINISH HIM" in Mortal Kombat font. Another edited my poolside photo onto the cover of Sports Illustrated.

I keep my chin up, my sunglasses on, ignoring the looks and the not-so-subtle pointing.

I spot Naomi waiting for me by my locker between classes, but turn in the opposite direction. I'm not ready to face her yet.

Instead, I hide in the bathroom during break, splashing cold water on my face and trying not to throw up again. My head pounds with every heartbeat, punishment for what I did last night's excesses. The lights in the bathroom are torture devices designed specifically to intensify hangovers.

"I heard she hooked up with three guys."

"No way, she left with Archer."

"But they hate each other."

"Maybe that's why they were keeping it secret."

The voices are coming in from the hallway. I freeze, hands dripping into the sink.

"I always thought there was something weird between them. They're like, too intense about hating each other, you know?"

"Well, they live together, right? My cousin's on the volleyball team saw them come out of the same house. Says they pretend not to know each other at school, but everyone knows they're like, step-siblings or whatever."

"That's so messed up. No wonder she went crazy when Ethan cheated. She's been cheating too—with her own brother!"

I want to burst out of the stall and correct them…he's not my brother, we're not step-siblings, we're nothing to each other except reluctant housemates. But what's the point? I can’t give them more fodder to feed on

Fuck it.

I grab a paper towel, wipe my face, and push open the door.

They’re standing by the lockers, all three of them, caught mid-laugh. The second they see me, their smiles falter and their mouths snap shut like guillotines.

I walk right past them, step between them and the mirror like they’re not even there, and start fixing my hair. I adjust a bobby pin, swipe on lip balm, and smooth my shirt like I’m prepping for a Vogue cover.

They shift awkwardly behind me. I let them squirm for a beat longer, then glance at their reflections.

“God,” I say softly. “No wonder you talk about me so much.”

I turn, meeting all three pairs of eyes.

“I’d be obsessed too if I looked like that.”

And then I’m gone.

Let them choke on it.

By lunchtime, I've perfected the art of looking unbothered while dying inside. I sit alone at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, picking at a salad I have no appetite for, when a shadow falls across my tray.

I look up, and my stomach lurches.

Ethan stands there, holding his lunch tray with both hands. He has a magnificent black eye, the skin around it swollen and purple. His nose is taped across the bridge, clearly broken.

"Can I sit?" he asks, his voice nasally through his injury.

I stare at him, too shocked to respond. Half the cafeteria is watching.

He takes my silence as permission and slides into the seat across from me, wincing as he moves.

"I, uh..." He clears his throat, looking down at his food. "I came to apologize."

I continue staring, my words failing me entirely.

"What happened with Megan... it was stupid. Really stupid." He scratches the back of his neck, not meeting my eyes. "I made a mistake. A big one. I know that."

"A mistake," I repeat flatly.

"Several mistakes," he amends quickly. "I was jealous, and insecure, and... I don't know. I took you for granted."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He flinches at my tone. "Because you deserve an apology. Because I was wrong. Because..."

His eyes dart nervously around the cafeteria, as if checking to see if someone's watching.

And suddenly, I understand.

"Someone made you come here," I say. "Who was it? Your coach? The principal?"

"No, I—"

"Save it." I stand, gathering my things. "I don't need your apology."

"Wait," he says, grabbing my wrist. "Please. I really am sorry. For everything."

For a moment, looking at his pathetic, bruised face, I almost feel sorry for him. Then I remember how he treated me. How he blamed me for his insecurities. How he made me feel like I was crazy for noticing the signs.

I pull my arm free. "How'd you get the black eye, Ethan?"

He drops his gaze. "I fell."

"Right." I shoulder my bag. "Well, I hope whoever you 'fell' into taught you not to cheat on your next girlfriend."

As I walk away, I hear someone whisper, "Damn, she's cold," and for once, I don't mind the gossip. Let them think I'm cold. Better than being seen as pathetic.

I make it through two more classes before curiosity gets the better of me. Ethan doesn't get black eyes from falling. Someone hit him hard and made him apologize to me.

There's only one person with both the nerve and the motivation to do that.

I'm heading to my last class when I pass the back stairwell and hear familiar voices. I freeze, then slowly backtrack, pressing myself against the wall just out of sight.

"—can't believe you told everyone," It’s Ethan’s voice. "That wasn't part of the deal."

"There was no deal." Megan's voice. "He broke your nose and said you'd get worse if you didn't apologize to her. That's not a deal, that's a threat."

My breath catches in my throat.

"Whatever. The point is, I did what he wanted. I apologized to Lily and made myself look like a total loser in front of everyone."

"You are a total loser." Megan sounds disgusted. "You're lucky he didn't do worse after what you said about his parents."

"Yeah, well, it's not over." There's something dangerous in Ethan's voice now. "I've got three guys from St. Regis waiting for him after school. Brett's cousin and his friends. They're gonna teach Archer a lesson about minding his own business."

"Ethan, don't—"

"Don't what? Let him get away with breaking my nose? Making me look like a bitch? The guy's had it coming for years."

"This is insane," Megan says. "You're going to get yourself expelled."

"Not if no one can prove I was involved." Ethan's voice lowers. "Look, all I'm saying is, if you see Archer heading toward the east parking lot after school... maybe don't warn him."

I hear shuffling, their conversation ending. I press myself into a doorway as they emerge from the stairwell, heading in opposite directions without noticing me.

My heart is pounding. Luca broke Ethan's nose. Made him apologize to me. And now Ethan has people waiting to jump him after school.

All because Luca defended me.

I should feel vindicated. Maybe even satisfied. Instead, all I feel is a cold knot of dread in my stomach.

Because despite everything despite ten years of rivalry, despite all the times he's made me want to scream in frustration, the thought of Luca getting hurt because of me makes me physically ill.