One Year Left

One Year Left

Harper felt the weight of it before she even looked up.

The stare.

That particular stare.

Sharp. Quiet. Watching. Daring her to flinch.

She didn’t flinch.

She looked.

And there she was—Kenzie Matthews, perched like a glossy vulture three tables away, one manicured nail tapping rhythmically against her pink Stanley cup. Her friends laughed around her, but Kenzie wasn’t laughing.

Kenzie was locked in on Harper like she’d already decided this year’s Homecoming crown came with a head to step on.

Harper pulled her eyes away, suddenly hyperaware of her hoodie, the awkward way her legs were crossed, the fact that she wasn’t even eating the damn fries in front of her. “Knows what, though? There’s nothing to know.”

“She doesn’t need facts, babe. She needs a vibe. And you’ve got Jaxon Brooks Vibe Disease all over you.”

Harper groaned, sliding her tray farther away. “I’ve literally done nothing.”

Mia gave her a look.

“I haven’t!” Harper hissed. “Okay, maybe there was... eye contact. And that one lab. And, okay, a DM. One.”

Mia arched a brow.

Harper relented. “maybe there’s more I need to tell you.”

Mia leaned across the table. “Harper. He has a girlfriend. The girlfriend. And you’re—”

“I’m nothing,” Harper cut in. “That’s the whole point. It hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s not going to.”

“Then why are you sweating like we’re on Judge Judy right now and later I want details?”

Harper glanced down at her phone. Jaxon hadn’t messaged her since the night before. Not after that half-confession about her being the first girl who ever told him no. Not after the memory about the birthday party. Not even after her silence.

She was glad.

She didn’t need him to.

Didn’t want him to.

But her fingers itched to check. To see if the typing bubble had appeared again. To see if he was still watching her from across the cafeteria like she was some puzzle he couldn’t stop trying to solve.

She tucked her phone under her leg.

Then pulled it back out.

And opened his DM.

Empty.

Good.

But not good enough.

She took a breath and started typing.

harperlane.art:

don’t message me again.

I’m not doing this, I was done this summer.

I’ve got one year left in this place and I’m not wasting it on someone else’s drama.

She stared at it.

Hovered.

Then hit send.

There.

Done.

She locked her phone and set it facedown.

Mia blinked. “Wait. You told him?”

“I told him.”

“Holy character development, Batman.”

“I don’t want to be part of this triangle. Or square. Or whatever shape this toxic mess is turning into.”

Mia leaned back, impressed. “Look at you, choosing peace over hormones. Growth.”

Harper tried to smile.

But her hands still shook a little.

Because saying no to Jaxon Brooks—really saying no—wasn’t easy.

Not when he looked at her like that.

Not when part of her still wanted him to look again.

The rest of the day dragged like a punishment. Every class blurred into the next. Harper didn’t see him. Didn’t want to. But she still found herself checking doorways and hallways like her brain didn’t believe her heart’s decision.

In AP Bio, he was absent.

That helped. A little.

Still, she caught whispers in the hallway. Saw sideways glances. A few heads turned when she passed.

Kenzie had said something. That much was obvious.

But Harper didn’t care.

She couldn’t.

She had a plan: survive senior year, get her art scholarship, move as far from Mississippi as possible, and finally stop living under the microscope of small-town high school life.

Jaxon Brooks was not part of that plan.

Not even the old, sweet memory of his five-year-old self with frosting on his chin could change that.

She headed to her locker after last bell with her shoulders squared and her jaw tight. She’d done the right thing. The mature thing. The only thing.

Her phone buzzed.

@jaxonbrooks is typing…

No.

She froze.

The bubble disappeared.

Then reappeared.

Then vanished again.

Her chest tightened. She gripped the edge of the locker with both hands.

He was going to answer.

He was going to ignore her.

She didn’t know which one would be worse.

The message finally came in.

jaxonbrooks:

I don’t care if it’s messy

I don’t care if it’s one year

I’m not done noticing you and wont ever be done noticing you.

Harper stared at the screen, her heart hammering so loud she swore she could hear it echo off the lockers.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t delete it either.

She just stood there, locked in place—half afraid, half aching, and fully aware that the thing she’d tried to stop had just grown teeth.

And it wasn’t letting go.