CHAPTER NINE

I woke up with light spilling softly through my curtains, the kind that makes you think the day is going to be good before you’ve even gotten out of bed. I stretched, still tangled in the blanket from last night, and then… realized something strange. My cheeks felt warm. My lips were curved.

I was smiling.

Had I fallen asleep like this? The thought made me want to laugh, because the only time I ever woke up smiling was on my birthday when I was eight and Dad surprised me with a kitten. But here I was, teeth still pressed together, my face already halfway to a grin before my brain was even awake.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

I rolled out of bed, brushing my hair away from my face as I shuffled into the bathroom. The mirror confirmed it, I wasn’t imagining it. My reflection stared back at me with that faint, ridiculously soft smile that I didn’t know I was capable of first thing in the morning. My hair was a mess, my eyes still half-lidded, but there it was.

The ghost of Damian’s arm around me.

The smell of his shampoo.

The way he’d said, I need you there.

I bit my lip and shook my head like I could shake away the memory, but I couldn't.

I brushed my teeth quickly, still catching myself grinning at the toothpaste foam like an idiot. Then I made my way downstairs, determined to get a proper breakfast before school. Pancakes felt like the right choice, quick, easy, and comfortingly familiar.

The batter came together in minutes, sizzling against the pan as the kitchen filled with that warm, buttery smell. I stacked them on a plate, drizzled a little syrup, and was just settling down to take a big, satisfying bite when my brain decided to remind me of something.

Homework.

The last question from last night.

I froze mid-forkful. “No, no, no…”

The smile that had been glued to my face since waking up drained completely. I pushed the plate aside, the pancakes staring at me in silent judgment, and bolted back upstairs. My math notebook was still open on my desk exactly where I’d left it, the problem almost, but not completely finished.

So much for starting the day with a peaceful breakfast.

I scribbled my way through the equations, my pen scratching frantically against the paper. When I finally set it down, my fingers cramped and my handwriting looking progressively worse with each line, I had just enough time to take a breath before realizing I needed to shower.

The clock on my dresser seemed to tick louder with every step I took toward the bathroom. I showered faster than humanly recommended, practically hopping out while the last of the conditioner still clung to my hair, and pulled on jeans and a light sweater.

Downstairs again, I glanced at the table. My pancakes were waiting, looking a little deflated now, syrup pooling lazily at the bottom of the plate. I checked the time. No way I could eat them in peace.

I sighed, packed them into a container, and grabbed my bag.

Outside, the air was cool enough to nip at my cheeks as I walked toward the curb. The waiting part was the worst. I hated not knowing how things would play out, if Damian would pull up alone or with… her.

The thought put a small crack in my earlier mood, but I tried not to let it spread. Yesterday had been too good to let this ruin it.

Sure enough, Damian’s car rolled into view, sleek and familiar. My chest lifted, until I saw her in the passenger seat.

She was laughing, head tilted toward him, and he was grinning like whatever she’d said was the funniest thing he’d heard all week.

I still smiled as I got in, because I wasn’t going to let them see me sulk, but it wasn’t the same smile I’d woken up with.

“Morning,” Damian said warmly, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

“Morning,” I echoed.

They went right back into their conversation, something about an inside joke from practice yesterday. My mind drifted almost instantly.

When was she going to stop riding in this car?

It wasn’t like I had the right to pick and choose who Damian spent time with. He wasn’t mine. But knowing she was the girl he had a crush on,well, it made every shared ride feel like sitting in the background of someone else’s movie.

Maybe I was being selfish. I didn’t care. I just hated it.

I turned my gaze to the window, letting the steady rhythm of the road dull my thoughts until we finally pulled into the school parking lot.

This morning, I made a conscious effort not to do my usual disappearing act. I didn’t dart away the second we parked. Instead, I walked just behind them as we made our way toward the main building, keeping enough distance so I didn’t look like the awkward third wheel trailing along.

Damian was so absorbed in whatever Marianne was saying that he didn’t even notice when I peeled off, slipping through the hallway and heading toward my locker.

The combination lock clicked under my fingers, and I swapped out the books I’d need for first period.

“Morning, Autumn.”

I turned to see Taylor leaning casually against the locker beside mine, a lopsided grin on his face.

His voice was bright, his expression easy. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same guy who had snapped at me the first time we met.

“Morning,” I said, smiling back.

For a second, I thought about that first encounter, how genuinely bad his mood must’ve been for him to lash out like that. Now, seeing him like this, I realized Taylor was one of those people who seemed to operate on sunshine. When he smiled, it felt like the hallway got a little brighter.

He tilted his head toward me, eyes flicking briefly to my face. “Your glasses are about to slide right off.”

Before I could push them back up, he reached forward in mock seriousness, using one finger to nudge them into place.

I laughed. “Thanks for the save.”

“No problem.” He glanced down at the stack of books in my arms. “Here, let me.”

I hesitated for half a second before handing them over. “You don’t have to…”

“Too late,” he said, tucking them under one arm with an exaggerated show of strength.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop smiling as we started walking toward class.

The hallway buzzed with the usual morning chaos, students laughing, lockers slamming, the faint hum of someone’s music spilling from their earbuds. And maybe it was just me, but the day felt a little lighter with Taylor walking beside me, chattering about some ridiculous thing that had happened in his chemistry class yesterday.

I nodded along, occasionally adding a comment, but mostly I let him talk. It was nice, in a way, having someone fill the space without expecting me to work too hard at keeping the conversation alive.

When we reached the classroom, he handed my books back with a mock bow. “Your delivery, milady.”

I smirked, taking them from him. “Thanks, Taylor.”

“Anytime,” he said, already moving to sit near the window.

I slid into mine, setting my books down and pulling out a fresh notebook. But as the teacher started the lesson, I found myself staring out the window more than at the board.