The One I Can't Escape

I jolt awake, head pounding like someone took a hammer to it. The air reeks of bleach and something fake—air freshener, maybe—failing to cover up something worse. My eyes blink open, squinting against the dim light.The room is dull. Beige walls, a cheap wooden desk, a TV bolted to the wall. A hotel. My breath catches. How the hell did I end up here?I dig through my memory. The pub. Drinking. And that guy—the one who kept watching me. Tall, lean, built like someone who knows how to handle himself. Sharp features. Eyes that pinned me down all night.A noise snaps me back. The door swings open. And there he is—standing in the doorway in nothing but boxer shorts.I go rigid.Our eyes lock. He tilts his head, amused. I shift under the blanket, and cold dread grips my chest. I’m naked. Completely.My pulse kicks into overdrive.“What the—” My voice cracks as I bolt upright, yanking the blanket around me. “Where are my clothes?”He lifts an eyebrow, then nods toward the bathroom. No words,

I move with quiet precision, stepping into the kitchen as if I can blend into the background. The scent of fresh coffee lingers in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of something sweet—probably whatever Isabella has decided to fuss over this morning. She hums softly, swaying slightly as she moves between the stove and the counter, completely absorbed in her task.Dad is seated at the dining table, his posture rigid as he flips through a magazine. The way he’s holding it—like it’s more for show than actual interest—tells me he’s been waiting for me. But it’s Oliver, sitting at the far end of the table, who makes my breath hitch. He’s hunched slightly, scrolling through his phone, seemingly detached from the world around him.I want to believe that they are unaware of me, that I can slip out unnoticed, but the second my fingers brush the doorknob, Isabella’s voice cuts through the illusion.“Jude?”I wince, turning just enough to meet her curious gaze. “What’s up?”She wipes her ha

It’s Oliver.Of course it is.He doesn’t say a word—just stands there, arm still out, like he's offering me something I don’t deserve. Like I’m someone worth helping.And maybe that’s what makes it worse.I push myself up without taking his hand. My legs tremble, but I grit my teeth and force myself to stand on my own. Even if it hurts. Even if every part of me is screaming.Even if I want nothing more than to disappear.Oliver’s hand drops slowly to his side. His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes—like he wasn’t surprised I refused, but it still stung.Neither of us says anything.The crowd starts to drift off, bored now that the show’s over.And I walk away.Head down, heart pounding, shame stuck to my skin like glue.I don’t stop walking until I’m clear of the buildings and the noise and the stares. I find myself in the garden behind the campus library, half-wild and mostly empty this time of day. A few students lie sprawled in the grass with headphones o

The house is quiet when I step inside. Too quiet.I close the door gently, hoping it doesn’t creak, and slip off my shoes. The last thing I want is to be seen, much less heard. My only plan is to make it to my room, collapse face-first onto my bed, and pretend the day never happened.I cross the living room without turning on the lights, keeping my steps light.“Back early, aren’t you?”The voice slices through the silence.I freeze mid-step.Dad is standing by the kitchen counter, a mug in hand. Like he was waiting. Or listening.I straighten, not turning fully. “Didn’t feel like staying.”He watches me for a beat too long. “You’ve been distant lately.”I shrug. “Maybe.”“Is something wrong?”The question is soft, but it carries weight—too much of it. And maybe it’s the leftover adrenaline from the theater, or maybe I’m just too tired to lie convincingly, but I answer without thinking.“You already know what the problem is.”He frowns. “Jude…”I turn to face him. My fingers twitch at

As I approach the English building, footsteps echoing across the sunlit cobblestones, a voice cuts through the morning haze.“Jude!”I turn instinctively.Lea is jogging up the path behind me, one hand raised in a wave, the other holding something small and brightly wrapped. Her dark curls bounce with each step, cheeks flushed from the effort. She slows as she reaches me, catching her breath.“I was hoping I’d find you,” she says, offering the little box. “Happy birthday.”I blink at it, stunned. “You remembered?”“Of course,” she says, giving me a look like I’ve asked the dumbest question imaginable.I take the gift with a quiet “Thanks.” The wrapping crinkles under my fingers as I start to open it, but she stops me with a light touch.“Not now. Open it when you’re alone.”I nod, folding the box into my palm. A weird warmth blooms in my chest. “Thanks again.”She studies me for a beat, then her eyes gleam with mischief. “So... who put up that banner in the Commons?”I cringe. “Don’t