CHAPTER SIXTEEN

My ankle healed faster than anyone expected.

By Monday, the bruising had faded into faint shadows and the swelling was nearly gone. I still limped a little, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing pain that had kept me trapped in bed last week. For once, I felt grateful to walk down the halls of school again, even if the fluorescent lights buzzed too loudly and the chatter of other students pressed like static against my ears.

Taylor stuck close, carrying half my books even though I kept insisting I could manage. His only response was a shrug and a grin, like it was a personal sport to ignore me when it came to things like this.

“Locker looks like a crime scene,” he teased as I tugged the metal door open. The inside was a disaster, papers shoved carelessly, a sweater hanging half off the hook, and what might have been a granola bar fossilized in the corner.

“Don’t judge me,” I said, trying to shuffle through the mess for my chemistry notebook.

“Too late. I’m judging. Hard.”

He leaned lazily against the lockers beside me, arms crossed, his smile widening when I shook my head.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me. I was smiling. For the first time in days, it felt like my chest wasn’t weighed down completely.

I was so wrapped up in reorganizing my books, and hiding the granola bar deeper out of sight, that I didn’t notice the way Taylor suddenly went stiff. His voice cut through the hallway, sharp and loud enough to make me freeze.

“Damian!”

The name crashed against me before I even turned. My stomach twisted as I shifted slowly, eyes following the direction of Taylor’s glare.

There he was.

Damian.

And his hand was locked with Marianne’s.

She clung to him like she had a claim, her perfect smile tilting up at him as she leaned closer to whisper something. Whatever it was, it made his grip tighten on her hand, his jaw flexing before he turned his head sharply, dragging her with him as though the hallway wasn’t full of watching eyes.

My breath caught. I didn’t know what hurt more, the sight of their linked hands or the look in his eyes when he refused to even glance my way.

Taylor’s muttered words reached me, bitter and low. “Coward. Absolute coward.”

“Taylor,” I whispered, my throat tight.

“No, seriously. He ditches you when you can’t even walk, and now he…”

“Stop,” I cut in quickly, closing my locker with a snap that made him blink at me. My hands trembled, but my voice didn’t. “It’s not necessary. He’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to have anything to do with us.”

Taylor’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but the fight drained out of him when he saw my expression. He gave a short nod instead, his eyes still burning.

We walked to class together, his stride slowing every so often like he thought I might break apart if he went too fast. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

By the time lunch rolled around, I’d almost convinced myself I could breathe without thinking about him. Taylor and I sat at our usual table, trays between us, his voice filling the silence with some rambling story about a teacher’s weird obsession with staplers. I laughed, it sounded strange coming from me, but real enough to make him grin proudly.

Then, like a cruel twist of timing, he appeared.

Damian.

And this time Marianne was not with him.

The cafeteria noise blurred around me as I caught sight of him moving toward our table. My pulse jumped, my fork suddenly heavy in my hand.

Taylor noticed instantly, his shoulders straightening, his tone sharp as he muttered, “Well, look who finally decided to show his face. And, wow, look at that, Marianne isn’t trailing him like some lost puppy for once.”

I shot him a warning glance, but he didn’t back down.

Damian ignored him entirely. His eyes flicked around the room before landing on me. He looked tense, like every step closer was a risk. When he finally stood in front of our table, it was as though no one else existed except the three of us.

His voice was low, careful. “I came here to tell you something.”

I stayed quiet, clutching the edge of my tray, waiting.

He glanced back briefly, then back at me. “ Marriane doesn’t like you being around me. She’s not comfortable with it. So…” He hesitated, like the words themselves cut him. “You shouldn’t come to my house anymore. And I’d appreciate it if you deleted my number from your phone.”

My throat tightened, but I didn’t speak.

He went on, his tone growing firmer, colder. “From now on, act like I don’t exist. No one should call out to me in the hallway.” His eyes flicked to Taylor deliberately.

Taylor’s jaw locked, his glare burning.

Damian looked back at me. “It might be better if we stopped being friends altogether.”

The words landed heavy, like stones dropping into water.

I just sat there, staring at him as the last thread between us snapped clean.

When he turned and walked away.

Taylor shifted beside me, restless, like he was waiting for the explosion, for me to crumble, to fall apart right there in the cafeteria.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I’d already cried enough over him. My tears were gone, wrung out of me during long nights staring at my ceiling, phone clutched in my hand as I waited for messages that never came.

Now, all that remained was the hollow ache.

I picked up my fork again, stabbing at the food on my tray as though nothing had happened. My appetite was gone, but I forced myself to chew, to swallow, to act like the world hadn’t just shifted under my feet.

Taylor kept sneaking glances at me, worry etched deep into his face. Finally, he muttered, “He’s the biggest jerk I’ve ever met.”

I gave a small nod, not trusting my voice, and kept eating.

The rest of the day blurred by in a haze. Teachers talked, students laughed, pages turned in my notebook, but none of it landed. It was as though I moved through everything on autopilot, my mind stuck in the cafeteria, replaying his words over and over again.

You shouldn’t come to my house anymore. Delete my number. Act like I don’t exist. Stop being friends.

Each phrase carved deeper, but I held myself together with a strange, stubborn calm.

By the time the final bell rang, Taylor was still watching me carefully, like he expected me to collapse the second we left the building. I didn’t. I walked beside him, head high, steps steady, even if my chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside.

We reached the corner near my street when I finally spoke, my voice quiet but firm. “Taylor?”

He glanced down at me quickly. “Yeah?”

I drew in a breath, forcing my words past the weight in my throat. “Would you… like to do some intensive studying with me? For midterms. They’re in two days.”