Chapter 3

Zach's POV

I was just about to let something cruel slip out from my mouth, something sharp and loud enough to wipe that damn smirk off Ryder’s face, but Ellis grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.

“Not worth it,” he muttered under his breath, steering me through the crowd like I was a balloon about to pop.

We ended up in one of the spare bedrooms. Ellis tossed me a shirt from his bag, a simple black tee, soft and freshly folded. Probably something he packed for later, but he offered it without hesitation.

“Change into this,” he said, already turning to leave.

I nodded stiffly and waited until the door clicked shut behind him. My hands were shaking. I peeled off my wet shirt and slammed it on the floor, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I hated this, like really...hated this.

The way my chest tightened. The way my skin buzzed like it was trying to break away from my bones. I tugged Ellis’s shirt over my head. My fingers were curling into fists before I even realized it.

I stared at the mirror. I didn’t see myself, I saw Ryder. Ryder standing there like he hadn’t wrecked everything. Like he didn’t hold the match that burned my entire life down in high school.

That day.... I still remember the silence. The hallway that felt like it stretched forever. The whispers that broke me endlessly.

Private messages. Things I wasn’t ready to say out loud yet. Things that felt fragile, like glass, stuff I thought was safe. Then one morning, boom. Everyone knew. Everyone was laughing. Avoiding me. Pitying me. Staring like I was some exotic animal behind a glass cage.

And Ryder? Ryder had my phone that week in the gym. He said he was checking a music app. He handed it back like nothing happened. Then days later, everything unfolded.

Coincidence? Hell no.

He watched it all unfold. The way my friends dropped me for being gay. The stupid rumors that I was shagging male teachers to maintain my grades. The graffiti on my locker. And he smiled. He looked at me with that same smirk he wore tonight, like I was some pathetic joke only he could enjoy.

I clenched my jaw, dragging in a breath through my nose before pushing the door open and walking back into the party.

Screw Ryder. Screw what he did. I wasn’t that scared, confused kid anymore. If he thought he could walk around like none of it mattered, he was wrong.

I grabbed a drink from the table. Then another. I was getting a little tipsy. But I didn't give two fucks.

_____

“Zach!” Ellis found me again, flashing a smile like nothing had happened. “Feeling better?”

“Not really,” I said, sipping. “But I am dressed. So that’s something.”

He eyed the shirt. “It suits you.”

“Shut up.”

We laughed, but it was hollow. My eyes found Ryder across the room almost immediately. Of course he was still here. Still loud, surrounded by people who didn’t know, or didn’t care about what he was capable of.

A girl hung on his arm. One of the jocks clapped his back. He laughed like a king, like he hadn't ruined someone's life and then moved on.

And I kept sipping from the cup, slowly getting more and more intoxicated by the alcohol.

“Can we talk about how Ryder Summers is still walking around like he’s God’s gift to this campus?” I said too loudly.

Ellis tensed beside me. “Zach....”

“No, seriously,” I continued, stepping forward, raising my voice without even trying. “He is a manipulative prick. Thinks because he is hot and rich and has a jawline, no one remembers how toxic he was in high school.”

A few heads turned.

I didn’t stop.

“Guy literally ruined people. But now he gets girls and parties and praise. What a joke.”

Laughter near the couch stopped. I met Ryder’s eyes across the room. He was no longer smiling.

“Are you done?” he asked, stepping forward slowly.

“Not even close.”

His jaw twitched. “Careful, Zach. That mouth is going to write a check you won't be able to cash.”

“I’m not scared of you,” I shot back.

That wasn’t true. I was scared. I was shaking. But I was also angry. And tipsy. And sick of being the quiet one.

“Good,” Ryder said, stepping even closer. “Then let’s go.”

We were face-to-face. Breath to breath. Heat and hatred radiating between us.

A hand grabbed my shoulder. Ellis, again, trying to hold me back. But I wasn't going to listen. I was going to give Ryder a piece of all those things he had been giving me then.

He stood inches from me now, jaw locked, his knuckles clenching like he’d already punched the air between us. His presence always had this way of suffocating me, like I was constantly inhaling smoke and trying to pretend it was oxygen.

“Still crying over high school?” he scoffed. “Grow up, Zach. People change.”

I let out a mocking laugh. “People don’t change. They just learn how to lie better.”

The tension was thick enough to choke on. Everyone had gone quiet. Curious eyes followed the tension between us, some probably hoping for a show.

“You think you’re a victim?” Ryder scoffed. “You’re not. You were just too weak to handle the truth being out there. I did you a favor.”

A favor.

He said that with a straight face.

“You humiliated me,” I said, my voice louder than I meant. “You stole my phone, shared my messages. You knew what that would do. You knew I wasn’t ready to be out, to be humiliated. You made sure they saw me as a joke.”

“You were a joke,” Ryder snapped. “Acting like you had this big, important secret. Please. Everyone knew. I just said it out loud.”

My blood was roaring now. I stepped closer, chest brushing his. “You didn’t just say it. You weaponized it. You used me like a punching bag, because deep down, you're just a miserable, insecure bastard who couldn’t stand the thought of me being happy with something you’d never understand.”

“Oh, please,” he barked. “You think I wanted to be you?”

“I think you were obsessed with making sure I hated myself.”

His hand twitched, like he wanted to shove me or hit me.

That did it. My hand pushed against my chest, hard. Not enough to send him flying, but enough to make it clear that I wanted a fight.

A group of hands grabbed us before things got worse. Ellis was shouting my name, someone else had Ryder’s arm, and suddenly we were being dragged apart like two wild animals caught in a cage match.

“You two are done,” someone yelled, maybe the main host. “Out. Now. Get the hell out.”

We were pushed toward the door, still glaring at each other like the fight hadn’t even started yet.