CHAPTER TWENTY-seven #3
God, hearing myself say this out loud makes me feel like I'm seventeen again — all panic and hormones and ego — scrambling to look like I had it all figured out when really, I was just a scared kid trying not to drown.
Silence stretches between us, thick enough to choke on. She doesn't say anything right away, and I can see it — the way her jaw shifts, her brows pulling in like she's chewing on what I just said.
Finally, she speaks, quiet but cutting through the air. "And when you got here? Was it the same thing?"
I let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah. Same arrangement..."
"And they don't care that you don't feel anything for them?"
"They care about the image more than being with me."
Her head tilts, curious, but I catch the way her teeth catch her lower lip before she speaks again.
"And what about Taylor?" she asks, voice just barely above a whisper. "Is that... the same too? I mean, people talk, Zach. I've heard you two have been... seeing each other for months." Her eyes flick to mine, wary. "Or is it more than that? You two look... really good together."
For a second, I almost laugh — not because it's funny, but because of course she'd think that.
"Caroline," I say softly, letting her name sit there between us. "Me and Taylor? It's not what you think. I promise."
Her brows pull together, confused, and I shake my head, shoving a hand through my hair.
"Taylor and I have a deal," I explain. "We pretend we're hooking up — exclusive, whatever — just to make life easier. For both of us."
Caroline blinks, like she didn't expect that answer.
"Look, the puck bunnies here?" I let out a humorless laugh.
"They're relentless. And Taylor's ex is.
.. a nightmare. Guy's been stalking her, showing up to parties, trying to start shit.
So, we came up with this arrangement. If she's 'with me,' the guy backs off.
And if I'm 'with her,' all the girls who keep trying to.
.. you know—" I make a vague gesture, "—throw themselves at me, chill out. "
I shrug, meeting her eyes again, willing her to see the truth.
"That's all it is. It's fake. We hang out sometimes to keep up appearances, but there's nothing there. No feelings. Nothing. We really are just friends."
For a moment, she just looks at me, still and quiet.
"Doesn't that get... exhausting?"
I huff out a humorless laugh and nod. "Completely draining. But it kept the girls out of my life. It kept me sane."
She studies me for a beat, and I can feel the question coming before it leaves her lips.
"Then why not just date Taylor for real? Or find someone to actually be with — instead of going through all this trouble?"
I drag in a deep breath, eyes sliding away from hers then back. "How could I think about dating Taylor — or anyone else — when the only girl I wanted was you?"
Her gasp is sharp, tiny, but I hear it. I feel it.
Her lips part, soft and tempting, and all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss them, to drink in that sound like I've been dying of thirst.
She looks away, but I don't let her.
My fingers find her chin, tilting her face back toward me until our eyes meet again — until she's caught there, right where I need her.
"There's only ever been one girl I wanted," I tell her, my voice low, certain. "You. It's always been you. Every night I laid awake these last three years thinking about you. Missing you. Aching for you."
Her lips press together, the faintest line forming between her brows.
Like she's not sure she can let herself believe me yet, even if part of her wants to.
And damn it, that look makes my chest twist, because I hate that I put it there — that doubt, that hesitation — and I want nothing more than to tear it out of her head and burn it to the ground.
"I know you don't trust me right now," I add softly. "I get it. That's on me. I broke what we had. But I swear to you, I'll spend every second I have left trying to earn it back."
"I don't know if you can, Zach."
The words cut, but I see it — the flicker in her eyes that says she's lying. She wants to. God, she wants to. But she's scared.
Her throat bobs, her lashes fluttering like she's fighting not to break right there.
Goosebumps prickle across her skin — I catch them even in the low light — and then she exhales sharply, slipping past me toward the other side of the room like my nearness just scalded her.
Good.
God, that's good.
Because it means I still get to her. Still get under her skin, no matter how hard she tries to pretend otherwise.
"I know I hurt you," I say quietly, my voice rough. "I know I'm probably the last person you'd want to trust again. And maybe this is wishful thinking—maybe even mindless dreaming—"
I take a breath, "—but if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right. I'd lay my armor down if it meant you'd give us another shot."
I step closer, close enough to feel her breath stutter.
"And I know the idea of loving me probably feels dangerous. Like trusting me again would just blow up in your face. Like letting me in means setting yourself up for another heartbreak."
She narrows her eyes at me, like something just clicked in that sharp brain of hers.
I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the grin threatening to break loose — God, I probably look way too smug right now, but I can't help it.
"That with me, it'd be burning red. But it's not. This time, it's golden. Like daylight. And if you'd just let me..." My chest heaves. "I'll spend every day proving that to you."
Caroline just blinks at me, once, twice — and then her brow creases, her voice deadpans. "Are you seriously quoting Tay Tay right now?"
"Hell yeah, I am. You always said Taylor gets you better than anyone else—so I figured, if I'm gonna fight for my best girl, might as well let the queen do some of the talking. Who else could help me break through that Swiftie-coded firewall you built around your heart?"
Her arms cross over her chest, brow arched like she's seconds away from calling me out again.
"You really think quoting Tay Tay is gonna help you?"
Her tone's dry, but softer than before — and I catch it, that tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth she tries so hard to hide.
I grin, slow and shameless. Gotcha. "I mean... it's working, isn't it?"
I step closer, just enough to dip my head, dropping my voice like we're conspiring together.
"Don't fight it. I saw you smiling."
Her nose wrinkles, and she shakes her head, muttering, "I was not."
"Oh, yes, you were," I shoot back, leaning in just a fraction more.
She scoffs, but her mouth twitches again, betraying her.
"You're impossible," she mutters, rolling her eyes — but there's no real heat in it now.
I can't help it — I laugh, because damn, this is the closest we've been to us in three years.
And then it shifts.
She glances up at me, and whatever tiny smile was trying to form dies on her lips. We're too close. The air feels thick again. Charged.
Her arms uncross slowly, her breath hitching as her eyes dart from mine to my mouth and back like she hates herself for doing it.
"Sugarplum..." My voice comes out rougher than I meant, like it's scraping the edge of a plea.
Her throat bobs, and for a second, I swear she's not breathing either.
Then she steps back, just enough to break the spell.
"I can't promise you anything right now,"
I nod, a slow, careful motion, and let a small smile pull at my mouth.
"That's okay," I murmur, my hand coming up to cup her cheek with a gentleness that feels like it might shatter me if she pulls away. "If I have to start from the beginning, I will. Whatever chance you can give me—no matter how small—that's enough."
Her lashes flutter, and then she nods. Just once. A tiny, hesitant dip of her chin.
And then—God—she smiles. Brief, shy, but real.
It knocks the air right out of me.
"I should go," she says, barely above a whisper.
"Let me take you back to your dorm."
She shakes her head, her silver hair falling forward like a curtain. "It's alright, Zach."
I want to argue, to insist—but I bite it back. I've already pushed her enough tonight, already pressed every boundary she let me have.
So, I just nod, slow. "Okay."
When she finally slips past me and toward the door, I don't stop her. I just stand there, my palm still tingling from where it touched her, my heart pounding like it just learned how to beat again.
For the first time in three years, I feel it—hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ZACH
It's been a week since I last saw Caroline - that night she left my room after we finally had our long-overdue talk - and I'm starting to think... who am I kidding?
I know she's avoiding me.
How do I know? Well, let's just say she's been turning down everything - quick bites at the Co, drinks, late-night takeout runs, lunch dates. All of it. She keeps saying she's buried under classes and Acting Capstone rehearsals for their Winter Showcase.
At least she answers your texts now, dumbass, my inner voice chimes in - the same voice that sounds like my conscience if my conscience were a trash-talking teammate in the locker room.
Right. I should be grateful.
She finally let me out of the doghouse and unblocked my number. That's progress, right?
The day after our talk, I texted her on a whim, fully expecting to get slapped with that stupid error message like always. You know the one - the digital middle finger of rejection.
But when my message actually went through?
I swear my soul left my body for a second.
I just stood there, staring at the little Delivered checkmark like I'd discovered fire.
Then it hit me, and I lost it - let out this primal, "YES!
" that probably rattled the rafters, jumped off the couch, and broke into what can only be described as a crime against rhythm.
Arms flailing, hips swinging like a drunk uncle at a wedding, knees bouncing like I'd been possessed by the spirit of every bad boy-band dancer from the early 2000s.