You Were My Plan. Not My Future

When I returned to the classroom, Ethan was talking to a girl beside his desk.

He looked up and spoke as naturally as ever, as if I had never heard what he said outside prom.

“Where are your sunglasses?”

I rubbed my aching temple. Afternoon sunlight poured through the windows, making my eyes sting and my stomach turn.

“I left them in the ballroom.”

I had suffered a concussion during soccer practice the previous fall. The scans showed no permanent damage, but the dizziness, headaches, and sensitivity to light had lingered. My doctor expected a full recovery. I simply needed more time.

Ethan frowned, stood, and lowered the blinds beside my seat.

“Wait for me after school. I’ll drive you home.”

I nodded. We had been making that trip together for months.

For a moment, the familiar arrangement was comforting. Then I remembered what I had heard at prom.

He was offering me a ride. That did not mean anything between us had changed.

After classes ended, someone appeared at the door and called Ethan away. Before leaving, he told me to wait in the classroom.

So I waited.

One hour passed, and the voices in the hallway faded. By the end of the second hour, only the rattle of a custodian’s cart disturbed the silence.

I reached for my phone to call Ethan, but the screen flashed once before going black.

The last teacher leaving the building found me.

“Avery? Why are you still here?”

She knew I was recovering from a concussion and sometimes became dizzy without warning. She offered to drive me home.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

When she called Ethan to let him know, he said he had just pulled into the parking lot. She stayed with me until he reached the classroom.

“I texted you. I told you to go home.”

“My phone died.” I put it in my bag. “I waited because you asked me to.”

He glanced at the empty desks.

“Come on. I’ll take you.”

He barely spoke during the drive. Most of the time, he was answering messages.

A faint scent clung to his jacket, something like citrus and crushed rosemary. It had not been there that morning.

I wanted to ask where he had gone, but I kept quiet.

As we reached my apartment building, someone called his name.

Several classmates waited near the entrance. I recognized Chloe Hayes, the student council president. She hosted the morning announcements, earned perfect grades, and seemed to know everyone at school.

When she walked closer, I caught the same citrus and rosemary perfume.

Ethan took a few steps toward them.

“What are you doing here?”

“The restaurant is around the corner,” Chloe said. “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“Give me a minute. I’m taking Avery inside.”

Mason glanced at the entrance only a short distance away.

“You already got her home. Does she really need an escort to the door?”

Another girl quietly explained, “She still gets dizzy sometimes.”

Mason gave a careless laugh. “She usually looks fine. Sometimes I wonder if she’s gotten too used to Ethan taking care of her.”

“It’s Chloe’s birthday,” another boy added. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

My fingers tightened around my backpack strap.

So Ethan had forgotten me because he was celebrating Chloe’s birthday.

When he returned, I forced my voice to remain steady.

“Go with them. I can get inside by myself.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I turned and entered the courtyard.

Behind me, Mason called jokingly, “Do you need to tuck her into bed too?”

Ethan’s voice hardened. “She’s still recovering. Don’t talk about her like that.”

“I was kidding.”

“She’s my friend. Stop making it weird.”

My steps faltered.

Hearing him defend me, I almost turned back.

Then I remembered his voice outside the ballroom. He had sounded just as certain when he complained about having me around. I kept walking, no longer sure whether he wanted to help or simply felt he had to.

The courtyard was well lit. I had not experienced a serious dizzy spell in weeks, and walking home alone should have been easy. After waiting for two hours, however, my temples were throbbing and my legs felt unsteady.

I moved carefully along the path while his words from prom repeated in my mind.

We had grown up across the street from each other. Ethan used to knock on my door every morning before school. He carried my practice bag and accompanied me to every appointment after the accident.

Whenever people said I relied on him too much, he insisted it did not matter.

When had those small acts become something that made him feel trapped?

A wave of dizziness hit without warning. My shoe caught on the edge of the grass, and I fell hard against the stone path.

Pain burned across my palm.

I remained on the ground, briefly disoriented.

Ethan would never have forgotten me before.

I had trusted him when he told me to wait. After all those months of him showing up, I hadn’t thought I needed another way home.

Next time, I would arrange one.

“Avery!”

Rapid footsteps approached from behind.

Ethan crouched in front of me. One hand steadied my shoulder while the other carefully examined my scraped palm.

“This is what you meant by saying you’d be fine?”

His voice was sharp with worry, but his touch remained gentle.

“Did you hit your head? Are you dizzy?”

“It’s only my hand.”

He helped me stand. Then he slowed his pace and walked beside me instead of returning to Chloe and the others.

He stayed until we reached my front door. Before leaving, he told me to clean the scrape and call him if my headache worsened.

For a moment, I wanted to ask him to stay.

Instead, I thanked him and went inside.

His concern still mattered to me. So did what he had said when he thought I couldn’t hear.