Chapter 6

Ella

I knew better.

That’s the worst part.

I knew better than to expect anything different.

And somehow—

It still hurts.

I keep my head down as I walk out of the hallway, gripping my books tighter than I need to. The noise of everything fades behind me, but it doesn’t really go away.

It never does.

It just… follows.

Echoes.

Replays.

Over and over again.

I could’ve stopped it.

That thought won’t leave me.

Because he could have.

Beckett Cross could have ended it in seconds.

One word.

That’s all it would’ve taken.

And he didn’t.

My chest tightens as I push through the doors and step outside, the cooler air hitting my face. I inhale sharply, like maybe it’ll clear my head.

It doesn’t.

Because now I can’t stop thinking about him.

Not the version everyone sees.

The version I see.

And that’s the problem.

Because I know things about Beckett Cross that most people don’t.

I know his dad is barely ever home.

I know he hates it when people bring that up.

I know he pretends it doesn’t bother him—just like I pretend things don’t bother me.

I know he stays up late. I’ve seen the light in his room at two in the morning when I can’t sleep either.

I know he doesn’t eat breakfast half the time because he’s always in a rush.

I know he’s not as effortless as everyone thinks he is.

I know—

He’s not always that guy.

And maybe that’s why this messes with me so much.

Because if he were just a jerk—

If he were just like Sean—

It would be easier.

Cleaner.

Simpler.

But he’s not.

He’s worse.

Because sometimes—

He’s almost… not.

I swallow hard, blinking back the sting in my eyes.

“That was stupid,” I mutter to myself.

Stupid to notice him.

Stupid to think there was anything more there.

Stupid to think that the way he looked at me yesterday meant anything.

It didn’t.

Today proved that.

Today proved exactly who he is.

Someone.

And I’m—

Nothing.

That’s how this works.

That’s how it’s always worked.

He has everything.

The attention.

The respect.

The power to decide how people are treated.

And me?

I’m the girl people laugh at.

The girl who gets picked.

The girl no one defends.

Not even the person who—

My thoughts stop short.

Because that’s the part I don’t want to admit.

Not even to myself.

I let out a shaky breath.

“He needed me,” I whisper.

The words feel wrong.

Because it shouldn’t matter.

But it does.

He needed my help.

Came to me.

Asked me.

Like I was worth something for once.

Like I had something he didn’t.

And then—

This morning—

He just stood there.

Did nothing.

Like I was exactly what everyone else sees.

Something easy to ignore.

Something easy to tear down.

My throat tightens.

“How can you do that?” I whisper.

How can you act like you see me one second—

And then act like I don’t exist the next?

It doesn’t make sense.

None of it makes sense.

Unless—

It does.

And I just don’t want to accept it.

Because the truth is simple.

He’s not confused.

I am.

He knows exactly who he is.

Exactly what he’s doing.

Exactly where I stand.

And I’m the one who keeps trying to make it something more.

Something different.

Something it’s not.

I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

“Stop it,” I say under my breath.

Stop thinking about him like he’s anything more than what he’s shown you.

Stop trying to find something better in him.

Stop—

caring.

Because that’s what this is.

And I hate that.

I hate that he gets to treat me like that—

And I still care.

I wrap my arms around myself, hugging them tight.

“You’re nothing to him,” I whisper.

The words sting.

But they feel true.

Painfully true.

Because if I mattered—

Even a little—

He would’ve said something.

He would’ve done something.

He didn’t.

So that’s my answer.

I stare out across the empty edge of campus, blinking back the tears threatening again.

“I’m so tired of this,” I say softly.

Tired of being the girl no one chooses.

Tired of being the girl who always gives in.

Tired of hoping for something different—

And getting the same result every time.

I exhale slowly.

Then straighten.

Because something inside me shifts.

Not big.

Not dramatic.

But enough.

Enough to make one thing clear.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” I whisper.

I don’t know exactly what that means yet.

I don’t know what changes.

I don’t know what I’ll actually do differently.

But I know this—

I’m done waiting for someone else to treat me like I matter.

Especially him.

If he wants my help—

If he wants anything from me—

Then he doesn’t get to stand there and watch while I get torn apart.

He doesn’t get both.

He doesn’t get me—

And his reputation.

My jaw tightens slightly.

“Not anymore.”

For once—

The words don’t feel weak.

They feel like something else.

Something steadier.

Something stronger.

Something that might actually matter.

Even if no one else sees it yet.

Even if he doesn’t.

Especially if he doesn’t.