Chapter 15
Sam
Isaw her.
Maya. Lip gloss smeared on too thick, tits stuffed into a glittery top like she was auditioning for a music video no one asked for. She swayed right up to him in the hallway, every move choreographed, as if she were auditioning for the world’s most obvious hook-up.
And Reece… he leaned against the lockers, that signature smirk pulling at his mouth. All charm and ego. A performance he’s perfected.
I saw her hand on his chest. He didn’t push her away; instead, he let her flirt, and I hated every second.
I didn’t stick around to watch her drape herself all over him. Liz was crying, clutching her phone, mumbling about plane tickets, leaving, and how the world had gone unreal around her. I couldn’t let her fall apart. Not after everything she’d done for me.
But it burned deep.
God, it burned so badly.
Not Liz, but the way my eyes refused to stop tracking Maya, even as I crossed the hallway. The way my chest tightened when I caught Reece’s expression. A part of me wanted to stay and watch, to see if he brushed Maya off or let her lead him somewhere out of sight.
But Liz needed me, and I couldn’t be the girl who let her own heartbreak come before someone else’s pain.
So I walked with her into that crappy school bathroom with the flickering light, the cracked mirror, and the paper towels that always runs out too quickly.
I locked us inside the last stall while she fell apart in front of me. I wiped her mascara-streaked cheeks with my hoodie sleeve and told her she’d be okay. I nodded through the ache in my throat because that’s what friends do. We bleed quietly. We break in silence so the other doesn’t have to.
But the whole time, my mind wasn’t in that stall. It was still out there. Trapped in that hallway. Stuck in the moment he smiled at another girl. Wondering if he’d go with her. Wishing he hadn’t. Hurting at the thought that he did.
Lola and Aubrey arrived shortly after I texted them.
By then, Liz had splashed cold water on her face, dabbed it dry with a paper towel that fell apart in her hand, and tried, bless her, to smile through the pain. She wasn’t fooling any of us, not with her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks.
So when Lola and Aubrey wrapped their arms around her shoulders, something settled.
We didn’t bother attending class.
The four of us bailed, piling into my car with the windows down, music low, and drove across town to that tiny ice cream place Lola swears has magic in every scoop.
Liz ordered bubblegum-flavored ice cream and made a face after the first taste. Aubrey took a bite anyway, insisting it was gourmet.
Lola got chocolate with sprinkles and shared her cone with Liz, aiming to make her laugh.
I got strawberry and only realized the cup was empty when my spoon hit the bottom.
We sat under the fairy lights strung above the outdoor tables, letting the sugar do its job.
Liz didn’t cry again. Not in front of us, anyway. But now and then, I’d catch her staring into the distance, eyes glassy, tongue worrying her bottom lip like she was trying to keep something in.
None of us spoke the words we were all thinking.
Sometimes life just fucking sucks.
The party is already feral when we show up. Bass shakes the floor, lights strobe hard enough to screw with your own heartbeat. Heat and hormones clog the air. Every couch has a couple draped across it, half-naked and not even trying to be subtle.
Jace notices us the second we walk in. He pushes off the wall, swagger in every step, plastic cup in hand, and that grin—the one that could make saints sin and good girls question their morals.
“Shots,” he says, loud enough to cut through the music. “Come on, Bells,” he turns his attention to Lola. “You’re the only girl here who hasn’t tried to fuck me yet. That clearly means you haven’t lived.”
Lola crosses her arms and stares him right in the eyes.
“It’s Bellamy, dickhead. My surname. Try using it correctly for once.
I know that’s a tall order with your limited brain function.
And maybe I don’t want to fuck you and catch whatever mix of herpes and bad decisions you’re walking around with. ”
Jace smiles, clearly amused.
“Oh, and before you get all offended,” she adds sweetly, “I know plenty of girls you haven’t fucked yet. Most of them are smart enough to run in the opposite direction.”
Jace clutches his chest as if he’s been stabbed. “You wound me, Bells. Truly. It’s not easy being this goddamn desirable.”
“Shut up,” Lola says, a smirk tugging at her mouth—the kind she doesn’t bother hiding.
He puts an arm around her shoulders and grins as if this is the best part of his night. “You’re alright, Bells. Total menace, pain in the ass, serial ego bruiser... but still alright.”
She doesn’t shove him away. Instead, she rolls her eyes, grabs the plastic cup from his hand, and downs the shot like water.
“Keep dreaming, Jace,” she says, wiping her mouth and leveling her eyes at him.
His grin widens, all teeth and trouble. “Oh, I will. Trust me, Bells, I’ll dream about you tonight.”
I stand beside Aubrey, watching this unholy fever dream play out in real time.
Jace Cooper, king of cocky grins and casual fucks, the guy who flirts as a goddamn sport and racks up girls faster than he remembers their names, has Lola tucked under his arm as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
She doesn’t swoon. No hair flips. No batting eyelashes to make him want her. She rolls her eyes, mutters “dickhead” under her breath, and drinks his shot like it’s her right.
And Jace consumes it eagerly. Which is crazy, because he hasn’t truly respected a girl since he figured out what his cock was for. But somehow, Lola Bellamy, the clever, nerdy girl with zero tolerance for his bullshit, has become the only girl in this room that Jace doesn’t see as a game.
And honestly? That might be the most fucked-up part of all.
I blink, and Aubrey leans in close, whispering exactly what I’m thinking.
“What the fuck just happened?”
“I have no fucking clue,” I reply.
Their friendship slowly developed over the past two months, strengthening in the quiet moments between Aubrey and Noah’s whirlwind. No one really saw this happening, least of all me. Jace is a complete asshole to the core.
Lola doesn’t let him get away with anything.
She calls him out when he’s being an asshole.
She laughs in his face when he tries to smooth talk her, but she also shows up with an extra sandwich tucked in her bag, plays it off as nothing, and tosses it his way at lunch while pretending the whole thing was an accident.
She knows he doesn’t eat much. He never talks about his home life.
But everyone knows about the trailer behind his aunt’s house, the roof that leaks when it rains, the front steps held together with duct tape and hope — the frosty nights and busted water heater.
The way Jace never asks for help, never expects anyone to care.
Aubrey told us more. Quietly. As if the truth was not supposed to be shared.
Lola just nodded and said nothing. The next day, she had a Tupperware container filled with leftovers and a witty comment about how she made too much. She told him he had to help her eat it in her own savage, sarcastic, eat-this-before-I-punch-you way.
And he lets her.
Because maybe, for the first time in a long while, someone is showing up without expecting anything in return. And that messes with him more than he wants to admit.
Jace never thanks her. But he never turns her down either. And for someone who acts like he doesn’t need anyone, who’s made a name for himself pushing people away, he definitely doesn’t push Lola away.
She understands him like no one else does. Her, sitting beside him, teasing him until he grins and calling him out when he pretends he doesn’t care.
And maybe that’s why he’s doing it.
She sees right through all the armor he’s built and doesn’t flinch at what’s underneath.
I keep talking with Aubrey and Liz for another ten minutes, pretending the walls aren’t closing in, that I’m not listening for any voice in the room that sounds like his.
Eventually, I can’t take it. I murmur something vague and slip away, weaving through the crowd, my pulse chasing something I won’t admit to.
The moment I step outside, the night air hits me instantly. Cool against my skin. I take a breath deeper than any I’ve had all night and lift my face toward the sky.
The moon hangs low over the trees, bleeding light into the backyard.
I close my eyes.
I try to breathe through the ache crawling up my spine. Pretend I didn’t spend the last half hour scanning every corner of that party, hoping for a glimpse of Reece. Just to see if he’s here. If he ever spares a thought for me, the way my mind can’t let go of him.
Behind me, the door opens and slides shut.
I don’t turn.
My spine straightens. Recognition hits me before I even think, a shiver racing down my back, skin prickling with awareness.
“Hey,” he says.
That one word opens something inside me.
I tilt my head just enough to see him standing under the moonlight, jaw glowing in silver-blue.
That face, all sharp angles and quiet chaos.
That messy hair falling into his eyes. And that mouth.
God, that fucking mouth. The one that left me yearning for more.
Without saying a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. His scent lingers on the fabric, brushing against my skin. Warm. Familiar. Intimate in a way I don’t quite know how to handle.
I freeze.
His smirk is faint, eyes flicking over me in a way that always sparks my nerves. “Relax, Red.”
I push the jacket back onto his chest.
“I don’t need your jacket.” The words come out sharper than I intend. I’m being a total bitch, but I can’t help it. I have no idea how to act around him anymore. Not after everything.
Before he kept his distance, before Aubrey and Noah changed the whole dynamic, I could handle it. I could watch from a distance, pretend he didn’t affect me, let the occasional glance suffice. It felt safe. Controlled.
But now?
Now I’ve let him in… let him fuck me. Now, every second around him feels exposed.
“Keep it,” he says, dropping his voice to something quiet that doesn’t match the cocky version of him everyone else gets.
We remain silent, the space between us humming. Each breath feels too loud. Time seems to stretch endlessly.
I stare at him, and all I can think about is Maya. Her hands on him. Her mouth. Did she make him forget about me?
“I saw you with Maya,” I finally say.
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t offer any slick excuse, and that hurts more than if he had.
I turn to face him, seeking an answer before I can stop myself.
“Why didn’t you tell Jace about the bet?”
“No one needs to know.”
“So it was nothing, right?” I forced the words past the lump in my throat. “Just another fuck.”
His eyes sharpened. “I think you made that clear when you walked away from me, Red.”
“What does it matter, Reece? You screw all the time.”
He flinches.
For a moment, I think he’s about to say something cruel.
But then he drops his hands in front of him, and I recognize the familiar motion.
He spins the silver ring on his thumb, the one he always wears.
I’ve seen that habit a thousand times when he’s anxious, but right now, the sight hits differently.
I brace myself for a brush-off, a cocky smirk, or some bullshit line to smooth over the sharp edges between us.
But it never arrives.
Instead, he slides the ring off his thumb and holds it, turning it over in his fingers. He moves closer and reaches for my hand.
My breath catches as he presses the cool metal into my palm.
“Keep it,” he says, voice rough and almost unsteady. “I had it on that night. When I—” His jaw clenches, eyes darting from my mouth to my eyes and back again, as if he can’t decide where it hurts less to look. “When I fucked you, Red.”
The words hit like thunder, but he doesn’t step back. He watches me, breathing heavily, his next words coming softer.
“Now I can’t wear the ring without thinking about you. About the way you looked at me as if I wasn’t some fucked-up, heartless piece of shit. So keep the ring. If you’re done with me, if nothing meant anything to you, take it. That way, I can try to forget that this ever happened.”
My fingers curl instinctively around the ring, but he keeps going, eyes blazing now, with no smirk in sight.
“But don’t stand around and pretend nothing mattered. Not when you broke the second I touched you, or the way you said my name, because I haven’t forgotten. Not for a second.” He takes a breath and then adds, almost under his breath, “And no. I didn’t fuck Maya because I didn’t want to.”
I stare at him, mouth parted, heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. He doesn’t say another word. He turns and walks back inside, leaving me there in this fucked-up mess of air and feelings, still wearing his jacket.
The silver ring rests in my palm, heavy as hell for something so small. Scratched, worn, nothing pretty. My fingers tighten around the ring in my hand.
Now it belongs to me.
And I hate that it signifies something.
Stupid. Sentimental. Real.
This really shouldn’t matter.
But it does.
My heart’s pounding against my ribs as if it has something to say. My head’s a jumble of unfinished thoughts.
Reece Wilson doesn’t talk like that. He hooks up, he pushes people away with that confident mouth and never sticks around for the consequences. But now I’m standing here holding his ring, and nothing makes sense.
I feel unsteady, like I’ve stepped off the edge of the world and haven’t hit the ground yet. Everything inside me is tilted toward him, and I don’t know how to claw my way back.
I open my hand.
That ring sits there like it damn well belongs to me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, throat dry.
Part of me wants to throw it after him, slam it into his chest, and demand answers I’ll never accept.
But my fingers close instead. Then I shove it into my pocket as if I’ve already made a choice, even if I don’t know what the hell it is.