CHAPTER 25
Silence.
I’ve been craving this silence since I walked through the double doors of Crestview.
It’s rare, almost impossible to find here, where the halls are always buzzing with chatter, the classrooms filled with whispers and the occasional burst of laughter.
But now, sitting in this empty stairwell, away from the chaos of the rest of the world and the suffocating weight of everything else, I finally have a moment to breathe.
The faint hum of voices drifts from somewhere far off, muffled by the thick walls, but it doesn’t reach me here. This little pocket of stillness feels like my own secret corner of the world, a place where I can exist without the expectations, the stares, or the reminders of Hayes Griffin.
I lean my head back against the cool metal railing, closing my eyes.
I inhale the smoke from my cigarette, filling my lungs with nicotine, as I exhale the puff of smoke through my nostrils and mouth.
The quiet wraps around me, soothing and steadying, as I try to untangle the mess in my head.
But, of course, silence isn’t as empty as it seems. It’s full of the things I’ve been trying to ignore—the memory of Hayes’ smirk, the way his eyes lingered on me, and the heat in my chest when I refused to look away.
I let out a sharp breath, trying to will the thoughts away, but they cling stubbornly. It’s not just Hayes, though he’s a big part of it. My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the stillness. I pull it out and glance at the screen: a text from Seth.
Seth: How’s it going? Do I need to come rescue you?
I smirk despite myself, my fingers hovering over the screen as I consider my reply. Seth’s always been my lifeline, the one person I can count on to cut through the noise. But even he doesn’t know the full extent of what’s been happening lately—not yet, anyway.
Me: I’m good. Just needed some air.
I hit send, knowing it’s only half the truth. The phone buzzes again almost instantly.
Seth: Air? Or a break from Hayes?
My stomach twists at the name, even in text form, and I lock my phone without replying.
The silence feels heavier now, pressing down on me as I let my head fall back against the railing again.
I pull the bud of the cigarette and toss it to the floor, dragging my shoe across it to put it out.
I pull out another cigarette and slip it in between my lips as I light the end.
I take a long drag before exhaling the smoke through my parted lips.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps, followed by curses, and I quickly look up.
I can’t tell who it is from where I’m sitting, but it’s obvious this person is about to disrupt my quiet sanctuary.
The footsteps grow louder, echoing against the walls, and I catch a glimpse of heels clicking against the stairwell floor.
Whoever it is, they’re not in a great mood, judging by the string of muttered curses that follows.
I sit up straighter, my heart sinking. Of all the places in Crestview, this stairwell has always been my escape, my refuge. And now, someone’s about to barge in and ruin it.
“Dakota?” A voice calls and Shay steps into view.
Her white dress shirt is missing its tie, and the top two buttons of her blouse are left unattended. She's not wearing her blazer as she walks down the steps. Without an invitation, Shay sits down next to me, letting out a heavy sigh as she stares at me.
“You mind?” She asks, pointing at the cigarette in my mouth. I shrug, taking it out of my mouth and passing it to her. She takes the cigarette and slips it between her lips and I watch her take a drag, inhaling the smoke down her lungs, and exhaling it through her nose and mouth.
“I didn’t know you smoke,” I say, starting a conversation a part of me isn’t willing to start in the first place.
Shay Cassidy is a girl born with a silver spoon.
I haven’t been to her house but I’m sure as shit it’s luxurious.
The way she carries herself, it’s like she’s got everything figured out.
Poised, well mannered. I know she’s a bitch, but she always tries to act like she’s above it all—like the petty drama of Crestview doesn’t touch her.
Her confidence is always unnerving, like she knows she can always get what she wants without even asking.
So now you understand why I’m surprised she’s hiding out in a stairwell smoking with me.
She shrugs as she leans back against the stairwell wall, her eyes half-lidded and distant.
She exhales another plume of smoke, her movements practiced, like she’s done this a hundred times before.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Dakota,” she says, her voice low and dry, carrying a hint of something I can’t quite place—bitterness, maybe.
I lean back as well, glancing sideways at her. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you were the type to hang out in stairwells and steal other people’s cigarettes, either.”
She smirks faintly, taking another drag. “There’s a lot you don’t know about a lot of people.”
Her words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning I’m not sure I want to unpack.
I don’t know why she’s here, why she’s talking to me, or what she expects to get out of this, but I can’t bring myself to ask.
Instead, I let the silence stretch, watching the smoke curl around her as she stares ahead.
“I heard you grew up in this town before moving to New York,” Shay says, her gaze focused on me as she smokes my cigarette.
“Yeah,” I reply, leaning back against the railing, trying to sound indifferent. “Born and raised here. Left when I was fourteen.”
She nods, exhaling a slow stream of smoke, her expression unreadable. “What was it like? Growing up here, I mean.”
I glance at her, unsure of where this sudden curiosity is coming from. Shay doesn’t strike me as the type to care about anyone’s backstory unless it benefits her somehow. “It was fine,” I say with a shrug. “Same as it is now, I guess. Small town, small minds.”
Her lips twitch, like she’s amused by my answer. “But now you’re back,” she says, her tone soft but probing. “Why?”
I hesitate, my jaw tightening as memories I’d rather forget bubble to the surface. “It wasn’t my choice,” I admit, keeping my voice even. “My mom wanted to come back. Said it would be good for us.”
Shay raises an eyebrow, taking another drag of the cigarette. “And is it? Good for you, I mean?”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “Not even close.”
She hums thoughtfully, flicking ash onto the floor. “So, what’s the deal with you and Hayes?” she asks at once, her voice casual, but her eyes sharp. “You’ve got history, don’t you?”
I freeze, the question hitting harder than it should. My first instinct is to deny it, to brush her off, but the way she’s looking at me—like she already knows the answer—makes it clear that won’t work.
“What makes you think that?” I ask instead, keeping my tone neutral.
Shay smirks, leaning in slightly. “The way you two look at each other,” she says, her voice low. “Like you’re either about to kill each other or…” She trails off, her smirk widening. “Well, let’s just say it’s intense.”
I swallow hard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but the words feel hollow, even to me.
“Maybe,” Shay replies, leaning back and exhaling another plume of smoke. “People always think since I'm blonde, pretty, and from a rich home, I’m automatically dumb. But I’m good at reading people, Dakota. And whatever’s going on between you and Hayes, it’s not nothing.”
Her words hang in the air, thick and unsaid. For once, I’ve got nothing—no snark, no clever retort. Just silence as I stare at the faint curl of smoke drifting upward, wondering how the hell someone like Shay Cassidy sees right through me.
“Are you two fucking?”
The question slices through the quiet, catching me off guard. I snap my head toward her.
“Excuse me?”
She shrugs, like she didn’t just lob a grenade into the conversation. “Just an observation. If you’re not already screwing each other, it’s only a matter of time.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
She tilts her head, her blue eyes sliding over to meet mine. There’s something piercing in her gaze, like she’s trying to dissect me, to pull me apart piece by piece. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know?” she says simply. “The way you look at him. The way he looks at you.”
I stiffen, my jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but you’re wrong.”
“Am I?” she asks, arching an eyebrow as she hands the cigarette back to me. Her tone is infuriatingly neutral, like she’s just stating facts, not accusing me of anything. “Because from where I’m sitting, it seems like there’s something between you two. Something… unresolved.”
I take the cigarette from her, more to give my hands something to do than anything else. I bring it to my lips, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out in a long, slow stream. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say finally, my voice quieter.
Shay doesn’t respond right away. She just watches me, her expression unreadable, before leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees.
“Maybe,” she says softly, almost to herself. “But if I’m wrong, then why does he always look at you like you’re the one thing he can’t figure out?”
I freeze, her words cutting through me like a blade. My grip on the cigarette tightens, and I can feel the heat of her gaze on me, waiting for a response I can’t give.
“I don’t know,” I say eventually, my voice barely above a whisper.
She studies me for a moment longer before sighing and leaning back against the wall.
“Everyone’s talking about it, I mean the guys from the hockey team. The tension between you two, that’s not nothing. One would think you two have been at each other’s throats since middle school.”
I scoff, my gaze steady as it lingers on Shay. “Why do I have a feeling you already know what happened?”