Chapter 11 The Bracelet’s Weight #2
My mind went back to May and Amy at our high school graduation party.
May wore that brave face she’d perfected when her mother got sick—chin up, smile fixed, eyes bright with something that wasn’t quite joy.
Amy had held her hand under the table the whole time, fingers white-knuckled, while May smiled for the camera.
Luz had sat on May’s other side, close enough that their shoulders touched.
Not saying anything. Not trying to fix the ache of the loss May or Amy felt.
Just there. She offered the kind of presence that didn’t need words.
She’d stayed by their side, through the cake and the forced laughter and the moment May’s smile finally cracked in the bathroom afterward.
She always stayed.
Even when her own mother had walked out the door when Luz was four and never looked back. Even when staying meant watching people break and not being able to stop it. I couldn’t fight the smile as I watched Luz hold Amy’s hand in her silent show of comfort and support.
We had somehow found each other. And somehow, we’d survived.
“You know what would really make me feel better?” Amy said, a spark of mischief flickering back into her tired eyes.
Luz narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say tequila.”
Amy grinned. “No. If Mel would finally admit that whatever’s happening with Professor Broody is way past regular attraction.”
Heat shot straight up my neck. “It’s not—”
“Oh, it is,” Amy countered, pointing at me with the empty trail mix bag. “You get this look now whenever he’s around, like you’re trying really hard not to feel something.”
Luz barked out a laugh. “She’s right. You looked like you were going to combust during that entire lecture on consent. Very subtle.”
I groaned, covering my face. “I’m not—it’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh,” Luz said, grinning. “So you’re telling me you don’t think about him? At all?”
My silence was answer enough.
“That’s what I thought,” Amy said smugly.
“I was taking notes!”
“On his face,” Amy added.
“We’re done,” I cut in, yanking my hood up over my head like it could hide the burning in my cheeks. “This conversation is over.”
They both cracked up, Amy coughing into her laughter until Luz passed her the water bottle again.
Even as I tried to brush them off, my chest tightened. Because maybe they weren’t completely wrong.
That was a thought I wasn’t ready to face.
By the time my shift ended at the café that evening, my legs ached, and my head buzzed from too much caffeine and too little sleep. I walked back toward my dorm, the autumn air biting at my cheeks.
The campus was quiet; most students were already gone. I heard footsteps behind me, just slightly out of sync with mine, and the hair on the back of my neck prickled.
I turned onto the smaller path between buildings, a shortcut I’d taken a hundred times. It was a mistake this time.
Xavier stepped into my path with precision that felt wrong, pupils blown so wide they swallowed the color.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Fun-Size,” he said, voice low and controlled.
“Not today, Xavier,” I huffed, attempting to step around him.
He moved in my path, glowering down at me. “I’ve known you a long time. Since we were kids.”
“Move.”
“I’m just wondering what changed.” He tilted his head, studying me. “What is Ward offering that you’re not getting from me?”
“Nothing is going on between the professor and me,” I huffed, glaring up at him. “But at least he treats me like a person.”
His expression hardened. “I treat you fine.” He stepped closer, hands clenched at his sides. “You’re just being difficult.”
The word hung between us, the insinuation making my skin crawl. The bracelet on his wrist was identical to Amy’s. My blood went cold.
“That bracelet,” I said, unable to stop myself. “You’re in that study too?”
He glanced down at it and shrugged, tugging his sleeve down. “Yeah. So?”
“How long have you been going?”
“A couple of weeks. Why do you care?”
“Do you feel different? Since you started?”
His expression shuttered. “It’s helping me. Making me see things clearly, understand what I deserve.” He stepped closer, something feral flashing in his eyes. “What’s mine.”
The way he said ‘mine’ made my blood run cold.
“I’m not yours,” I hissed, backing up a step. “I’m not anyone’s.”
“You think he would want you?” Xavier’s voice rose, anger bleeding through the eerie calm.
“He doesn’t want you, Bubble Girl. I do.
” His hand came up, not to grab me, but to brace against the wall beside my head.
Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that I couldn’t slip past without touching him.
I moved to slap him, but he was faster. My wrists were pinned before I could process it. His fingers dug in so hard I knew there would be bruises.
“Get off me!” I shouted, trying to twist away. He held on, his breath hot and sour against my cheek.
“You can fight all you want,” he said, his grin nearly manic. “I’ve been patient, Fun-Size. So fucking patient. You’re supposed to be mine.”
I slammed my heel down hard right onto his foot.
Xavier yelped and staggered back, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench free and bolt, shoes pounding against wet pavement. My chest burned, but I didn’t stop.
I made it maybe twenty yards before I heard him behind me again. Running. Gaining.
“You can’t just run from me, Fun-Size!” he shouted, voice cracking with something unhinged.
I rounded the corner and collided with someone solid. I looked up to find Kian staring down at me in surprise.