Chapter Two
I sighed as I shifted my backpack higher on my shoulder, squeezing past a group of freshmen clustered around a phone. And then I nearly halted as I spotted Paxon.
He leaned against his locker like it was the only thing holding him up.
His usually short blond hair had grown out slightly, brushing lightly against his forehead.
He flipped through a battered notebook, everything about him exactly as it always had been.
The same easy slouch, the same calm presence, but none of it felt the same at all.
Three months had passed since he asked for space. Three months of vague texts and short, clipped conversations. It might as well have been two lifetimes.
He looked up. Just once. Stormy grey eyes met mine, and my stomach flipped in response.
I was just about to flash him a small smile when he looked away, clearing his throat as he pulled a book free from his locker like it was more important.
Not a word. Not an attempt at a smile. Just a confusing ghost of the boy who used to make me feel safe and comfortable.
The boy who used to walk close enough that our hands brushed. The boy who used to whisper jokes in class to make me laugh, especially in moments when I had wanted to cry.
Now he stood still, like distance was safer than even trying and that little moment made it impossible for me to walk forward. To do anything. My feet were superglued to the vinyl flooring.
“Cadence!”
I jumped. Micah appeared, grinning as usual, holding a package a little too close to my face. I jerked back, looking down at the wrapping.
“Pop-Tart? Last strawberry one. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
“You didn’t,” I said, but I was able to smile as my body was once again able to move.
“Sure did.” He ripped the wrapper open dramatically and shoved it at me. “Only for you. Had to fight off like three other kids for that one. They got stuck with that weird s’more flavor one.”
I took it, rolling my eyes. “Your girlfriend is going to be mad that you’re giving it to me instead of her.”
He shrugged. “She’s already mad,” he said solemnly. “But only because she thinks I don’t spoil you enough.”
I laughed, and it felt strange in my throat, like an old muscle I hadn’t stretched properly in a while, which was a little silly considering I always had to warm up my vocals in order to sing correctly. None of my clients mentioned me sounding like a bullfrog, so I must have been doing fine.
We walked into the cafeteria together, but Micah veered off to meet with his girlfriend and their friends.
I weaved between tables until I found the guys. Toby and Justin were mid argument. Bryan was half-listening with a frown, more focused on his phone. Paxon beat me to the table and sat at the far end, staring down at a textbook.
I slid into a spot, and Justin’s eyes flicked over to mine. He gave me a small smile, quiet but certain, reminding me I wasn’t alone and they hadn’t abandoned me. Yet.
“Cadence,” Toby said, pointing a finger at me. “Settle this. Which one of us is the worst at cooking? Justin or me?”
“Hey,” Justin protested. “You literally set toast on fire last week.”
“That was the toaster’s fault!”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Pretty sure it’s a tie.”
The table erupted in groans and mock arguments, their voices climbing over one another until the noise filled every corner of my head. For a moment, it was almost enough to drown out the ache in my chest.
Almost.
I risked a glance down the table.
Paxon simply sat there. He wasn’t arguing or laughing. Just sitting, quiet and withdrawn. Our eyes managed to meet and they softened.
But only for a second.
Then his jaw clenched, and he looked away.
The weight in my chest pressed down harder.
This was the boy who used to lend me his beanies, who texted me about Calvin as if his little brother was his entire world. The boy who once made me believe I belonged.
And now he was just far enough away to remind me that maybe I didn’t anymore.
I turned back to Toby and Justin, forcing a laugh at their bickering.
The first bell rang, cutting through the cafeteria. Voices rose as everyone in the room got up and shuffled out the doors to get to their classes.
I stood, slinging my backpack onto my shoulder. Bryan fell into step beside me, his tall frame easy to spot even in the crowd. He towered over most of the other students, broad shoulders filling the space. His black hair was neatly brushed back, though a few strands kept falling into his face.
“You look miserable,” he said bluntly, adjusting his glasses.
“Wow,” I muttered. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Just calling it like I see it.” His dark brown eyes flicked toward me, sharp but not unkind. He smelled faintly of something rich and spicy. “I’m guessing Paxon?”
I didn’t answer. They all knew at this point what was going on, but I guessed they were leaving it to the two of us to figure out.
Though there wasn’t much figuring out happening currently.
And how long were they going to give us before they were forced to take sides.
I knew it wouldn’t be in my favor. They had known each other forever, and I was just the girl who came into their lives only at the beginning of this school year.
“You don’t have to say anything.” Bryan sighed and rested his hand on my lower back, staying at my side as the other students pressed against us the closer we got to the doors. The other guys were already gone in the crowd, heading to their own classes. “He’s been off. We all see it.”
My chest tightened. “I don’t want to talk about it.” At this point, I didn’t even know what there was to talk about.
“Then don’t.” He shrugged. “You’re still one of us. Don’t forget that. Paxon’s insecurities don’t mean we all feel the same.”
I nearly froze and only Bryan and the moving crowd kept me walking. “Since when do you say nice things like that?”
“Now that I know half my playlist are songs written by you, now those songs have a different meaning. You ruined my playlist.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “I didn’t ruin them. I elevated them.”
“Please. You absolutely ruined them. Now I can’t listen to half of those tracks without thinking about you.”
Heat crept into my face. I ducked my head as we reached homeroom.
“I guess I’m trying to say I know you’re hurting. Paxon’s being a dick. He’s been told as much. Even I don’t know what to do to get him to pull his head out of his ass and see what a dick he’s being, and I hate what it’s doing to you. We all care about you, Cadence. Even Paxon.”
Emotions clogged my throat. The conversation was beginning to spiral into territory I wasn’t ready to touch.
Bryan could tell his words hit me hard and didn’t push. He just shouldered the door for me, letting me step through like he always did. I had never understood chivalry until meeting the guys.
The hum of voices filled homeroom when we finally got there. A few kids were slouched over their desks, earbuds in, while others clustered near the back, laughing.
I took my usual seat near the windows with Bryan taking the desk to the right of me. He stretched out his long legs as he dropped his bag onto the desk with a soft thud.
Shortly after, Mr. Barlow came in, droning through names for roll call.
I tried to focus, tried to let the steady routine of school lull me into something that felt normal.
But my thoughts kept drifting back to grey eyes.
I felt too much like I teetered on the edge of something as it broke and didn’t know how to stop it.
My pen tapped against the desk. Once. Twice. I forced it still.
There was a sharp knock on the classroom door.
The teacher paused and looked over at the open door. A student stood there and held out a slip of paper, handing it over to Mr. Barlow. He looked down at it before turning to the class with a slight frown, scanning the room and then stopping on me.
“Cadence Wiles,” he said.
My stomach dropped.
Mr. Barlow nodded toward the door. “Principal’s office. Take your things.”
Whispers rippled through the room as heat crept up my neck. I shoved my notebook into my bag and stood.
Bryan raised his brows at me, his expression halfway between curiosity and concern.
I forced a shrug, though my chest tightened. “Guess I’m in trouble.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said simply, though I caught him reaching for his glasses to clean them. His telltale sign that he was nervous.
I gave him a small smile and turned toward the door.
The hallway stretched ahead, suddenly too quiet, too long.
Whatever the principal wanted, it couldn’t be good.