LOGIN
The world shrunk to the space between my locker and his chest. I could feel the cold metal of the locker door pressing into my back, a solid, unyielding reality against the dizzying panic swirling in my head.
My glasses, always a little too big, chose that moment to slip down the bridge of my nose. I clutched my camera to my chest like a shield, my knuckles turning white.
“I… I wasn’t,” I stammered, my voice a thin, reedy thing that barely carried over the thumping of my own heart. “It’s a misunderstanding. I wasn’t taking pictures.”
Jax Ryder let out a short, derisive sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. He leaned in closer, one arm braced against the locker next to my head, caging me in. His blond hair fell perfectly over his forehead, and his green eyes, usually sparkling with arrogant amusement, were now hard and cold.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop squeaking,” he said, rubbing a finger in his own ear as if the very sound of my voice had caused him physical pain. “It’s like listening to a stepped-on mouse. Now, try again. And use real words this time.”
I flinched, my gaze dropping to the scuffed toes of his pristine white sneakers. Jax Ryder. The heartthrob of Northwood Academy. The ace of the soccer team, even though he was in a sophomore year. With his looks, his confidence, his everything, he had every reason to be this cocky, this sure of his place in the world.
“I saw you,” he stated, his voice flat and certain. “Don’t even try to deny it. I was coming out of the weight room and I saw you, clear as day, with that dorky camera pointed right at the door to our changing room. Asher was right there, changing after practice. What were you doing, you little creep?”
“The lens cap was on!” I blurted out, the words tripping over each other in their rush to escape. I fumbled with the camera, holding it out as proof. “See? It’s on. I couldn’t have taken a picture even if I wanted to.”
He barely glanced at it, his dismissive snarl telling me how little my evidence mattered. “So you’re admitting you were staring, then? Just getting an eyeful? What’s your deal, huh? You one of those… art fags?”
The slur hit me like a physical blow, and I felt the blood drain from my face. My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
“Cat got your tongue?” he mocked, leaning in even closer. His voice dropped, becoming a low, threatening whisper. “Let me make this simple. I don’t know who you are. I don’t care. But I know what I saw. And what I saw was some nobody pervert spying on my captain. Asher’s a good guy, you know? A little too nice for his own good, maybe. Thinks the best of everyone. Thinks guys like you are just ‘misunderstood’ or some shit.” He said the last word with a roll of his eyes, a clear irritation for his captain’s perceived naivety.
“He… he doesn’t even know I exist,” I whispered, the confession torn from me in my desperation.
“Yeah, well, he’s about to find out,” Jax shot back, his eyes glinting. “He deserves to know what kind of… people are watching him. He thinks everyone’s as decent as he is. It’s annoying. Makes him blind to this sort of thing.”
The way he said “people” felt like a slap. He wasn’t just calling me a creep; he was putting me in a category he found disgusting.
“Please don’t tell him,” I begged, the words tearing out of me. The thought of Asher, kind, distant Asher, looking at me with that same revulsion was a pain I couldn’t bear.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Jax took a step closer, invading my space completely. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t march into that locker room right now and let everyone know there’s a guy sneaking pictures.”
“There are no pictures!” I insisted, my voice cracking. “I swear. On anything. I was… I was taking pictures of the light. For a project. The way it hits the old lockers in that hall…” It was a weak excuse, and it sounded ridiculously flimsy.
He stared at me for a long, silent moment, his expression a mixture of contempt and something colder. “You’re a terrible liar. And you’re sick. You know that, right? Hiding in the shadows, staring at guys who would never, ever look twice at you. It’s wrong.”
Each word was a precise, well-aimed dart. I felt the sting of tears and blinked rapidly.
“Asher’s a straight guy, as straight as arrow could get.” Jax continued, his voice low and intense. “He’s got a future. He doesn’t need some… some boy making him uncomfortable in his own locker room. He deserves to be able to change without worrying about some pervert’s camera.”
He straightened up, looking down at me from his full height. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to stay away from the team’s wing. You’re going to keep your camera and your… feelings… to yourself. If I see you near our locker room again, if I even think you’re looking at Asher for a second too long, I won’t just tell him. I’ll make sure everyone in this school knows. And trust me, they’ll all agree with me about what you are. Do you understand?”
I could only nod, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. The humiliation was a cold, heavy stone in my stomach.
“Good.” He gave me one last, sweeping look of pure disgust, then turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing confidently down the empty corridor.
He took an exit off the highway, the road narrowing and winding through darkening countryside. I caught glimpses in the twilight: the silvery flash of a stream, the dense outlines of trees, the gentle roll of hills. It felt a world away from the city’s constant hum.We turned onto a gravel lane, and he slowed, stopping in front of a pair of tall, wrought-iron gates. He fished a small remote from his pocket, clicked it, and the gates swung open silently.My eyebrows shot up. “Jax...”“Just look.”We drove up a curving driveway. The house emerged from the shadows. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was big, built of stone and warm wood, with a deep porch wrapping around the front. Lights were on inside, glowing gold against the night. The gardens were just shapes in the dark, but I could imagine them as wild and lush.He parked and came around to open my door before I could move. He took my hand, his fingers lacing tightly through mine, and led me up the path to the front door. It was unlocked
The world outside our bubble didn’t stop. If anything, it sped up, Jax dove headfirst into the storm. I didn’t see much of him in person.The first move was a lawsuits. Not just one. A battery of them.Against Mrs. Miller, for defamation and emotional distress. His lawyers, paid a fortune to be pitiless, dismantled her victim narrative with forensic detail: phone records, witness testimonies from other students about her behavior, financial audits suggesting she’d sought payouts from tabloids. They didn’t just want to win; they wanted to eviscerate. The settlement, when it came, was a financial and professional ruin for her.Against Mark Sable, for invasion of privacy, harassment, and intentional infliction of emotional distress. This one was more personal. Jax’s legal team proved Mark had not only leaked the photo but had actively shopped false stories to the highest bidder. The discovery process dragged every piece of Mark’s vendetta into the harsh light of a courtroom. Mark was lef
I pushed back inside. Orhan was gone, his door shut. Jax was still in the armchair, one hand cradling his now-cooling mug of coffee, staring into the middle distance.“What was that?” I asked, my voice low but firm. I walked over and stood in front of him, blocking his view of nothing. “Why were you interrogating him?”Jax’s eyes lifted to mine, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face. It wasn’t the icy smirk from before. This was warmer, more genuinely amused. “Because of your reactions,” he said, his tone teasing. “You were so flustered. It was adorable.”“Shut up,” I said, but there was no heat in it.“He likes you,” Jax stated, his voice dropping, matter-of-fact.I froze. A cold trickle of dread, mixed with a strange sense of guilt, ran down my spine. I turned away, busying myself by picking up Arman’s empty water glass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”A soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, Elliot. I’m not saying anything. I know you love me.” He winked, the arrogant bastar
“Orhan? We’re back.” I called out, my voice strangled.Orhan’s bedroom door opened, and he sauntered out, a textbook in hand. He looked at me, then at the two other men filling the space. He took in the scene with the unnervingly perceptive gaze of a kid who’d seen too much too young. “You’re back,” he said to me, dryly. “And gladly, not arrested.”Arman blinked, his confusion plain. I let out a laugh that sounded more like a choke. “Ha. Yeah. No arrests.”Orhan’s gaze swept past me, landing on Jax, who was now leisurely removing his sunglasses and unwinding the scarf, hanging it on the coat hook by the door. Orhan’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then his focus shifted to Arman, standing awkwardly by the sofa. Orhan’s eyebrow shot up. He looked back at me, one brow arched in a clear, sardonic 'what the hell is this?’I pretended not to see it. How could I possibly explain? That one is the love of my life (he already knows that), and the other is a sweet guy who has a crush on me and I’ve be
A week had passed. Jax spent most of his days on the phone, pacing the length of the wooden porch or standing by the large window, his voice a low murmur that I couldn’t make out. His publicist, his lawyers, his agent. The calls came in waves.One afternoon, I was chopping vegetables for a stew when his phone rang. He went very still, looking at the screen. He didn’t answer it at first, it rang out. A minute later, it started again, insistent.With a grimace that was more resignation than anything else, he swiped to answer and put it on speaker, setting the phone on the kitchen table between us.“Jaxon.” The voice on the other end was cold, and devoid of any parental warmth.“Father,” Jax said, his own voice flat. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the phone.“I saw your little performance.” A pause, heavy with disdain. “I have to say, for once, I’m almost… proud. You’ve spent your entire life creating messes. At least this time, you had the audacity to stand in the
I got in the driver’s seat, the engine growling to life. My hands were steady now. I pulled out my phone, my thumbs moving with a certainty that felt foreign and frightening.Me: Either you tell me where you are right now, or I drive straight to Mark Sable’s house. Choose.I hit send. I didn’t put the phone down. I held it, my gaze locked on the screen, the glow illuminating the tense lines of my face in the dark car. It was a threat, and I didn’t care. He’d used up all my patience.The three little dots appeared almost instantly. They pulsed, then stopped, then pulsed again. He was typing, deleting, typing. Arguing with himself. Good. Let him feel cornered. Let him feel a fraction of the desperation I’d been drowning in.The reply came.An address.A second text followed.Jax: Wait for me there. Please.Please. That one word, small and cracked, undid something hard in my chest. The anger bled out, leaving behind a raw, aching worry. I’d never known about this place. I typed the coord







