The Breakup, the Fallout, and the SilenceJaxon – Senior Year, Age 18When he kissed her, he didn’t think it would change everything.It was raining. She opened the door, her eyes locking with his, and in that second, he stopped thinking.He just kissed her.No plan. No backup story. No excuses lined up for Kenzie. No excuses for himself.He kissed Harper Lane like he’d wanted to for too long—since before he had the guts to admit it. Since before he’d whispered that he loved her that night at the lake.And then he left.Because staying meant explaining.And he wasn’t ready for that.The breakup came the next night.Kenzie was already tipsy when he found her at the party, cup in hand, eyeliner smudging just slightly under the weight of the night. She was surrounded by people who loved the sound of their own voices, who loved watching the cracks in other people’s lives.He pulled her outside.Told her the truth—that it wasn’t working. That he was done pretending perfect.She didn’t cry
By Wednesday morning, Harper couldn’t walk down a hallway without feeling like she’d grown two extra heads.The stares weren’t subtle anymore. The whispers weren’t whispers.They were daggers with smiles.“She’s the junior he dumped Kenzie for?” “No way she’s just tutoring him or whatever. You know they’ve been messing around.” “I heard she’s been obsessed with him for years. Freak finally snapped.”Harper kept her head down. Hoodie up. Backpack gripped tight. She’d walked these halls for three years, practically invisible—and now she couldn’t breathe without someone dissecting it.And worse than the whispers were the eyes. Everyone looked at her differently now. Not just like she didn’t belong, but like she’d invaded some unspoken rule of high school hierarchy.All it took was a breakup, a party, a crying Snap story from Kenzie, and Jaxon’s kiss in the parking lot to turn her into a villain.She should’ve felt powerful. She felt hunted.Mia was at full DEFCON 1.“I swear, if one more
Chapter Thirteen: And Just Like That, It Was WarMonday started the same way every Monday did—gray skies, crowded hallways, Harper’s hoodie pulled up like armor, earbuds in even though nothing was playing. She moved through the building like a ghost.She hadn’t seen Jaxon since the night he kissed her in the rain. She hadn’t heard from him either. No texts. No knocks. Just silence.And she told herself that was good.Because the kiss had wrecked her.Not just the kiss—the way he’d looked at her afterward. Like he was deciding something. Like he was leaving something unsaid. And she hadn’t asked what, because she’d been too afraid of the answer.She didn’t tell Mia. She didn’t tell anyone. She’d locked it inside, pretending that if she kept it quiet, it would lose its weight.It didn’t.By third period, her phone buzzed against her leg. She ignored it. But it buzzed again, more insistent.Mia: Girl. Check Snap. Now.Harper’s stomach dropped. She opened Snapchat reluctantly.Kenzie Matt
It was raining.Not the heavy, dramatic kind you see in movies. It was the kind that lingered. The kind that settled into your bones, made everything gray, made the world feel like it was waiting for something to end.Harper sat in the living room wrapped in an oversized hoodie that swallowed her whole, the fabric still faintly smelling like her mom's old lavender detergent. The TV was on—an episode of some sitcom she could recite by heart—but the dialogue was just background noise to the storm inside her chest.Her sketchbook lay untouched beside her, pencil still tucked between the pages. She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t create. Couldn’t do anything but sit and exist in the ache she refused to name.She hadn’t heard from Jaxon in four days.Not since the art room. Not since she told him not to come back until he knew how to be honest—with himself, with her, with everyone.She thought he’d listen. She thought maybe this time, he’d choose to be better.The knock came just after midnight.
The whispers started the next day.They started soft. Tentative.“Did you see Jaxon talking to her?” “She told him off. Like, full on destroyed him.” “Wait, her? Hoodie girl?”Harper heard them. Of course she did.She’d spent most of her high school life perfecting invisibility, and now she was under a microscope. All because he looked at her like she was more than some girl. Because he cracked, right there in the hallway.And people wanted to know why.Mia tried to keep her cool, but Harper saw it—the tension in her shoulders, the twitch in her jaw. She was seconds away from making a PSA titled Mind Your Own Damn Business.At lunch, Mia slammed her tray down, her scowl heavy and loud. "They're all idiots."Harper pushed her food around her tray with her fork, not bothering to argue. "They're just bored.""No, Harp. They're nosy vultures. The second someone outside their stupid social bubble does something remotely interesting, they circle."Harper forced a smile, but it faded before
Chapter Nine: What You Deny,538The first sign something was off came during lunch.Harper was at her usual table—head down, earbuds in, pretending to scroll while Mia recapped some sophomore drama involving a bathroom selfie and a stolen hair straightener. Harper wasn’t really listening. She was too aware of the table across the quad.The football table.The table where Jaxon sat.Laughing, eating, blending in.Same as always.Except today... he wasn’t laughing much.He was watching her.Again.She felt it before she saw it.That subtle shift in the air. That quiet tug on her attention that always came with the weight of his gaze.She looked up, just once.His eyes were already on her.It lasted less than a second. A glance. A flicker.But it was enough.Enough for someone else to notice.Troy—not just Jaxon’s best friend, but also the team’s loudest mouth—followed the look and let out a low whistle.“Damn, bro. You been staring at quiet girl again?”Harper froze.Earbuds still in.