39 RYAN
RYAN
I honestly lost count of how many lies I told the last couple weeks
“Are you sure you’re good?” Noah’s voice cuts in.
Fuck, if I knew.
“Yep,” I say, giving Noah the quickest nod ever.
I glance up from my desk, still half stuck in my own head. The instructor is explaining chain of custody and evidence contamination, writing bullet points on the board, but it’s all just background noise at this point.
I didn’t sleep one minute last night. So when my alarm went off this morning, I wanted to throw the damn thing out the window. But I got my shit together and managed to get to school.
I just couldn’t get her out of my head. And what she said in the car last night.
I still don’t understand what the hell happened.
What switched? Two days ago we were kissing.
And then yesterday she just said we should stop the fake dating—which, for the record, stopped being fake for me a long time ago—and go back to being friends. Friends.
Fuck that.
But maybe none of it meant what I thought it did. All the talking. All the laughing. The way she looked at me. The goddamn kisses. Maybe it meant nothing to her.
But that doesn’t make sense. It felt real. She felt real.
But whatever it was—it’s done now. And God, it hurts like a bitch.
Kiara, sitting on the other side of Noah, tilts her head and studies my face. “You don’t look good.”
“Geez. Thanks.”
“Honey,” she says, not even a little sorry, “those bags under your eyes make you look like you slept in mascara.”
Shit. Is it that bad?
There’s a small pause. The teacher keeps talking, marker squeaking against the board, but none of us are paying attention anymore.
Then Noah says, quieter this time, “Maddy told us what happened.”
I take a slow breath in through my nose. “Yeah,” I manage. “I figured.”
Neither of them says anything right away.
“We’re good, though,” I add, forcing the fakest smile I’ve ever faked. “Didn’t fight or anything. It’s just better like this.”
Biggest fucking lie ever to leave my mouth. But it’s the version she’d want people to hear. So that’s the version I give them.
Noah nods once, slow and careful. “Okay,” he says. “But if you need anything—”
“I know.” I swallow. “Thanks.”
Kiara’s expression softens just a little. She gives me a small smile—way gentler than anything she’s said so far.
“Still think he looks like shit,” she mutters to Noah.
I huff out the faintest breath of a laugh despite myself.
At the front of the room, the teacher claps once, snapping everyone’s attention back. “Alright, finish the last question and hand it in.”
Right. Like I’ve done any of it.
The bell rings a second later, cutting through the room. Chairs scrape back, people start talking, backpacks zip open. I lean back in my chair for a second, staring up at the ceiling like maybe it’ll collapse and save me from the next part of the day. I grab my bag and stand up anyway.
There she is. The blonde girl with the big green eyes and the world’s most ridiculous dimples.
My legs carry me toward our usual bench before my brain can catch up. I slow as I get closer, stopping about a foot away.
She looks up. And for half a second, everything hits at once—cartoon-loud laughter, cherry-sweet lips, soft skin under my hands, late-night conversations.
Then it all shatters. Because she gives me a small, polite smile. The kind you give an old classmate in a grocery store. God. I didn’t know something that small could hurt like that.
Conversation flows around the bench like always. Here and there the others share some concerning looks, but Maddy joins in like everything is completely normal.
I make the mistake of looking at her again. She smiles at something Kiara says—squinting her eyes, tilting her head back, dimples showing.
Fucking hell, girl. Stop doing that.
She laughs like it doesn’t take any effort at all. And I realize that she’s fine. Completely fine.
And that’s good. I want her to be okay. I just—a small, selfish part of me wishes she looked a little less okay.
The house smells like sugar and cardamon when I get home. Mom and Bailey are at the kitchen table, flour dusted everywhere, a bowl of carrot cake batter between them. Bailey’s hands are covered with almost every single ingredient and Mom’s laughing.
I take one big inhale before walking into the kitchen.
“Hey,” I say.
They both look up at the same time, and whatever was on my face must give something away, because Bailey’s smile fades a little.
“Whoa,” she says softly, narrowing her eyes like she is searching for the right words. “You look…tired.”
I shrug, dropping my backpack by the chair. “Didn’t sleep great.”
Mom studies me in that quiet way she has. “You okay, honey?” she asks gently.
I exhale deeply, looking up at them. “Maddy and I broke up.”
Bailey’s mouth opens and I can practically see a thousand questions loading, but I cut her off before any of them can come out.
“Look, we’re fine,” I say quickly. “We didn’t fight. We just decided we’re better off as friends.”
I honestly lost count of how many lies I told the last couple weeks.
Bailey doesn’t answer, she just narrows her eyes at me like she knows there’s a whole story sitting behind that sentence. But Mom’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, sweety,” she says quietly.
And that almost does it. Because if she keeps being this nice, I might actually lose it right here between the flour and the carrot cake batter. So I nod once, quickly, shoving it away.
“I’m gonna study in my room,” I mutter.
Neither of them stops me. So I grab my bag, head upstairs, and close my door a little too fast behind me.