Lahat ng Kabanata ng To the two boys I like: Burn me the safe way: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

The house was deathly quiet when Elena finally slid her key into the lock. It’s funny how a place that usually feels like home can suddenly feel like a cage when you’re vibrating with a secret. She turned the knob slowly, holding her breath until the click of the latch echoed in the empty hallway. Her mom had clearly turned in hours ago. The only light was the dim, yellow glow of the stove clock in the kitchen, casting long, distorted shadows across the linoleum.Elena crept up the stairs, avoiding the third step from the top because it always groaned like a dying animal. She felt heavy. The silk of the blue dress felt tight now, itchy with the dried sweat of the dance floor and the lingering scent of Liam’s cologne. When she reached her room, she didn't even turn on the lamp. She just collapsed onto her bed, her face buried in the duvet, letting out a long, ragged exhale. Exhaustion was finally starting to win the war against her adrenaline.Then, the phone in her bag chimed.The s

The room was quiet, that heavy, thick kind of silence that only happens after a storm. Elena lay there, her head tucked perfectly into the hollow of Noah’s shoulder, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart. It was a grounding sound. She felt soft, almost liquid, like her bones had turned to honey. Every inch of her skin felt sensitized, humming with the ghost of his touch. This was it, she thought. This was that feeling everyone wrote songs about, the one she’d read in a thousand books but never actually understood until tonight.Noah was staring up at the ceiling, his fingers idly tracing circles on her bare arm. His eyes looked distant, reflecting the faint, flickering light of a streetlamp outside. "What are you thinking about?" she whispered. Her voice sounded small, raspy from everything they’d just been through.He didn't answer right away. He just turned his head, a slow, gentle movement, and pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. He stayed there for a second, his

Dusty pulled the car into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires with a sound that felt way too loud for three in the morning. He killed the engine, and suddenly the world was just heavy. The heater gave one last groan before dying out, leaving them in a cramped, dark space that smelled like old upholstery and the salt of Elena's tears. Dusty didn't move. He kept his hands gripped tight on the wheel, staring straight ahead at the darkened silhouette of her house.The silence inside the car was suffocating. Dusty looked over at her, his expression a mix of pity and a kind of helpless anger. He’d seen her at her party—polished, perfect—and now he was looking at a girl who seemed to be physically leaking her soul through her eyes."Elena, seriously," he muttered, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and genuine fear. "You can’t just go for a midnight run in a cocktail dress, call me sounding like the world ended, and then expect me to just drive away. What happened? Di

Noah didn't just walk into the cafe. He erupted through the door, the small bell above the frame chiming with a frantic, desperate sort of energy that didn't fit the sleepy morning vibe of the place. He looked like a wreck. His hair was a bird’s nest of dark hair, standing up at odd angles and falling to his eyes because he’d spent the last six hours running his fingers through it in frustration. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with a raw red heat that screamed he hadn't slept a wink.The air in the cafe was thick with the smell of roasted beans and burnt toast. A few early customers looked up from their papers, their coffee cups frozen halfway to their mouths as they took in the disheveled guy vibrating with barely suppressed rage in the doorway.Then he spotted her.Ashley. The waitress who’d served him and Elena that day they’d snuck out of school. The girl who had decided to light a match and drop it onto his entire life with a single, ten-word text. She was leaning over a corn

The school gates felt like a finish line, or maybe the bars of a cage closing behind them. When Elena climbed into Liam’s car, she didn't look back at the parking lot. She didn't look for the glint of chrome from a motorcycle or the familiar, slumped silhouette of a leather jacket leaning against a brick wall. She just buckled her seatbelt with a sharp click and stared at the dashboard, watching the digital clock flicker until the tires began to hum against the asphalt. Liam was talking—something about a new spot downtown with decent steak and better privacy—and Elena just nodded. She’d nod at anything right now if it kept the silence from moving back in and making itself at home.The restaurant was one of those places where the lighting is intentionally dim and the waiters move like ghosts in expensive suits. It was supposed to be romantic. It felt like a tomb.They sat across from each other, the white tablecloth between them looking like a sterile barrier, a vast snowy landscape