CHAPTER NINETEEN #11
"So... it's prom night." Jacob suddenly say. "You and Care are going together, right? Are you excited?"
I hold out a long sigh. Here we go again.
Jacob's been on my case about me and Caroline since January, ever since I publicly announced — although it was purely not intentional — that I was going with her.
And it's not just curiosity. He's been trying to figure us out for a while now — what the real deal is between me and my best friend.
I can't even count how many times he's asked if there's something more going on, like I'm hiding some big secret romance from him.
He bugs me about it so much it's practically become his favorite hobby.
And every time I shut him down, it feels like I'm hanging on by a thread — because there are moments I almost slip, almost blurt out the truth. That I'm in love with her.
But I catch myself. Every damn time. Because if anyone's gonna hear that from me first, it sure as hell isn't Jacob. It's Caroline.
And it's not just him being nosy. It's him fishing. Testing the water. Because deep down, I think I know why he's so curious about whether she's single or not.
"Yeah," I say, still focused on my respawn screen. "I'm excited about prom."
He snorts. "I don't mean prom. I mean prom with Care. You excited about that?"
"Mmm... it's okay."
I let it out flat, casual, like I'm talking about a math quiz instead of the one night I've been losing sleep over. That's the point. With the guys, I never let it sound like anything more than childhood-friend stuff.
Because if I ever made it obvious — if I slipped and showed just how much she means to me — they'd eat her alive.
She already takes enough shit just for being my best friend.
The whispers, the stares, the way girls shoot her daggers like she doesn't deserve to sit next to me.
It's nasty, cruel, and I've lost count of how many times I've had to bite back the urge to tell people to fuck off.
And that's just for being my friend. If everyone knew I liked her as more? They'd triple it. Quadruple it. Caroline would never get a break.
And beneath all of that, beneath every excuse I've ever used—there's the truth I could never say out loud:
I haven't had the courage to admit I'm in love with her, because I didn't know if she felt anything back.
And if I was wrong… if she found out…
I was terrified it would blow our entire friendship to pieces.
So, I play it cool. Pretend she's just "the girl next door." Childhood buddy. The one I grew up with. I act like prom with her is no different than prom with any teammate's little sister.
Meanwhile, inside? My chest's trying to cave in at the thought of holding her all night.
Jacob doesn't drop it.
"You sure you two are just friends?" he presses.
"Yeah," I say. "Been friends since forever. That's it." I keep my voice flat, easy, like there's nothing to read into. Then I toss it back, casual but pointed: "Why do you keep asking, anyway? You interested in her or something?"
I'm fishing too, even though I already know. And I'm stupid enough to hope he'll deny it.
Jacob doesn't even hesitate. His voice crackles through the headset, clear as day. "Yeah. I am. Always had a thing for Care. Since last year."
The words land like a cross-check straight to the ribs.
My grip on the controller goes tight enough I swear the plastic's about to crack. Heat spikes in my chest, sharp and sudden, like someone just lit a blowtorch inside me.
Heat spikes through me, restless and jagged, crawling under my skin like a swarm of hornets. My jaw locks, my teeth grind, and I can practically feel the boards rattling in my head, the same buzz I get right before a fight breaks out on the ice.
"I mean it, man. I've been wanting to ask her out for months. Just never found the right time. She's different, you know? Not like the other girls here. She's... I don't know. Real."
My controller vibrates in my hands, but I'm not even seeing the screen anymore. My jaw ticks, the muscle grinding so hard it hurts.
Jacob laughs nervously, filling the silence. "You think she'd say yes if I did? I mean, she's not dating anyone, right? She hasn't been seeing anyone?"
I force a chuckle, dry and flat. "Dude, trust me, you don't want to tap someone like Caroline."
"Why? Why would you say that?"
I scramble, heart hammering, brain reaching for anything, anything but the truth.
"Because, man... you don't really know her.
Like, sure, she's all sweet and quiet in public, but when you actually hang with her?
She's scary. Like, full-on terrifying. She's got this temper that'll cut you in half.
One wrong word and—boom—you're dead. She'll chew you up, spit you out, and not even blink. "
I let out a sharp laugh, adding fuel. "And don't get me started on how clingy she can be. Once she latches on, she's everywhere. Texts nonstop, shows up when you're trying to hang with the boys, always wanting more of your time. It's... a lot."
I hear Jacob scoffs. "Bullshit. That's just you trying to scare me off."
Well, he's not wrong about that.
"I don't care what you say, Zach. I like her. I should at least try, right?"
The words are out before I can stop them, sharp and defensive, tumbling past my lips in a rush. "She's way too out of your league. I mean, come on... she's not worth your time."
The second it leaves my mouth, my stomach bottoms out.
Feels like I just slashed my own tires mid-race. I don't mean it — not a word of it — but the lie sits there, sour and heavy.
There's a pause on the other end, just static and the faint sound of Jacob's TV humming through his mic. Then his laugh crackles in my headset, low and smug.
"Damn, man. You sound like you're gatekeeping her. What's the deal? You like her or something? Don't want anyone else asking her out?"
My grip tightens on the controller, shoulders stiff.
Jacob keeps going, playful, needling. "I mean, it's kinda obvious, isn't it? You don't like seeing Care with anyone else. That's why you jumped the gun and told everybody she was going to prom with you. Beat me to it before I could even ask her properly."
My pulse spikes, panic clawing at my throat. And instead of admitting anything — instead of telling him the truth — I double down on the lie.
"No, man, I don't swing that way. She's just my friend.
Nothing more in there. I'm only going to prom with her because it's... expected, you know?
Our parents want the whole 'last high school dance together' thing.
And, come on, she didn't really have anyone else asking.
Well—besides you, I guess. But that was already too late. "
Jacob chuckles into the mic, the sound breaking up through static. "Man, you're full of shit. You don't just drag your best friend to prom unless there's something there. Don't give me that 'parents made us' crap. You could've asked literally any girl in school, but you didn't. You picked her."
I force out a laugh, rough and hollow, like it's stuck in my throat. My chest tightens, heat crawling up my neck, because he's pressing too close to the truth I can't let slip.
"You act like it's nothing, but I see it. The way you look at her? You're not fooling anyone, bro. Just admit it—you don't want anyone else near her because you want her for yourself."
Instead of manning up—saying the truth, the thing clawing at my chest—I go full coward.
I don't know what the hell is wrong with me.
I've never wanted to punch myself in the face this badly.
My brain is screaming, Shut up. Stop talking. For the love of God, shut your mouth, but apparently my lips have decided they work for a different boss.
"I don't see her that way. I never will. She's not... girlfriend material. You know me. You know the girls I go for."
The words stumble out before I can stop them, sharper, meaner. "I don't date fat chicks."
And the second it leaves my mouth, it's like I've sucker-punched myself.
A live grenade detonating in my chest. Below the belt doesn't even cover it—this was nuclear. Outrageous. Cruel in a way I didn't even know I was capable of.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I don't mean it. Not one syllable. Caroline isn't that, not even close. But I said it. I fucking said it. And even though it's a lie, it's the only thing echoing in my head now, poison looping back at me.
I can't even explain why the hell I said it. Why I went straight for the cheap, coward move instead of just manning up, telling him the truth — that Caroline's off-limits because she's mine. Because I've liked her first, always have.
But no. I choke. I lie.
And it makes me feel like absolute shit.
A slow tap on my shoulder snaps me back to the present. I blink up, dazed, and Elijah's standing there, stick resting against his leg, brows drawn tight with concern.
"You alright, man?"
"Ye... yeah. I... I'm fine." The sigh that slips out after makes a liar out of me.
"You sure? You seem distracted."
He couldn't be more right. Distracted doesn't even cover it. I feel like the most hateful bastard alive, trapped in a mess I can't fix. Some screw-ups you can tape over.
This one? It's not a cracked stick or a missed shift you shake off. It's jagged, permanent, like a fracture that won't set right no matter how long it heals.
God, I can't even imagine what it felt like for Caroline — hearing those cheap, dirty words spill out of my goddamn stupid mouth. That look on her face last night flashes again, hitting me square in the chest.
Her eyes wide and wet, glassy with betrayal, every tear sliding down her cheeks like it weighed a hundred pounds.
And knowing I put them there? Feels like swallowing glass.
"Fuck..." I mutter under my breath, jaw clenching.
The anger spikes hot, wild. My fists itch, my knuckles already imagining the crunch of drywall splitting under them. I want to hit something, anything, until I can't lift my hands anymore. Till the skin splits and the pain drowns out the storm inside me.