38 | Don’t do that to Her
THEO
I didn’t remember the first few steps.
Just the sound of gravel under my shoes, too loud after the noise of the fire. Someone called my name behind me—maybe—but I didn’t turn.
I kept walking.
My hand still hurt. I flexed it once, felt the sting cut sharp across my knuckles, then let it hang at my side.
She stayed.
That was the part that wouldn’t settle.
Not what Melissa said. Not Charles.
Tessa stayed.
Again.
I could still see it—her sitting there, not looking at me, choosing not to move.
I’m not going with you.
The same choice.
Just dressed differently.
I let out a breath that didn’t do anything to steady me and kept walking.
Too slow at first.
Then slower.
I cut through a side street I didn’t need to take, paused at a corner for no reason, let a car pass even though it was far enough away not to matter. My pace dragged, uneven, like I was waiting for something to catch up.
Someone.
I told myself I wasn’t.
That I wasn’t expecting her to come after me.
That I wasn’t—
My jaw tightened.
I didn’t turn around.
Not once.
Because if I had—
I exhaled sharply and kept going.
----
It had been three days after our first kiss...
Everything had felt different. Sharper. Like something had shifted under my feet and I hadn’t caught up yet.
Her.
Us.
I’d already bought the suit.
Too early. Too expensive. But I didn’t care.
It hung on the back of my door, still in the plastic, like something borrowed from a version of me that didn’t quite exist yet.
I remember standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of my shirt, trying to ignore how it sat wrong on me—too structured against shoulders that had never really filled out, the fabric hanging where it should have fitted.
I’d always been the skinny one.
The one people didn’t really see.
The one who stood slightly behind, slightly out of frame, hoping it didn’t show.
And suddenly—
Her.
I’d thought maybe that was changing.
The knock came in the afternoon. I opened the door already smiling.
Expecting Tess.
But Melissa stood there.
“Hey,” she said, softer than usual.
Something in her tone made the smile drop before I understood why.
“Hey. What’s up?”
She stepped inside without waiting.
“I went to see Tessa,” she said. “She asked me to talk to you.”
The words landed wrong immediately.
“About what?”
Melissa hesitated, like she didn’t agree with what she was about to say.
“I don’t really get it,” she said. “I told her that. But… it’s kind of how she is, you know?”
My chest tightened.
“What is?”
“She’s changed her mind.”
The room went quiet around the words.
“About what?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“About dance. About you. About what happened.” She glanced at me, softer now. “She feels stupid about it.”
I stared at her.
“We kissed,” I said. “She asked me.”
“I know.” Melissa’s voice dropped, careful. “That’s what she’s freaking out about.”
That didn’t make sense.
“She didn’t think it would turn into something real,” Melissa went on. “And now it has, and she doesn’t know how to deal with it. She’s embarrassed.”
The word hit harder than it should have.
“She said that?”
“She didn’t say it like that,” Melissa said quickly. “But… yeah. That’s what it is.”
I felt something in my chest pull tight.
“She could’ve told me.”
“You know she wouldn’t,” Melissa said. “She hates confrontation. That’s why she asked me.”
Close enough to be true.
“She asked you not to come,” Melissa added quietly. “And not to bring it up to her.”
I didn’t say anything.
“She doesn’t want to lose you,” she continued. “She just… doesn’t want this.”
“This.”
Undefined. Final.
“She’s going with someone else,” Melissa said after a moment. “A guy from the lacrosse team.”
Of course.
“That’s more her world,” she added. “You know how it is.”
I did.
Or I thought I did.
“You’re smart,” she said, softer now. “You’re different. That’s why she likes you. But this?” She gestured vaguely. “It’s not really you.”
Not really you.
The sentence settled somewhere deep, finding a place it fit too easily.
“She asked you not to come,” she said again, softer.
“Yes.”
“And not to talk to her about it.”
“Yes.”
I nodded once.
Numb.
“Okay.”
Okay.
Melissa came back the next day.
And the day after that.
I figured she felt bad.
That she didn’t want to leave me alone with it.
We sat on my floor, on the edge of my bed, talking around the thing neither of us touched directly.
“You’re taking it better than I thought,” she said once.
“I’m not,” I said.
“You’re not making it worse,” she corrected.
A beat.
“She’d hate that,” Melissa added lightly. “If you showed up anyway. Put her on the spot.”
The idea hadn’t existed before she said it.
Now it did.
“What if I just talked to her?” I asked.
Melissa stilled for a fraction of a second.
Then she shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked you not to.” Softer now. “Theo… don’t do that to her.”
To her.
Not to me.
That mattered.
By the third day, she stayed longer.
“You used to come over all the time,” she said once, lying back on my bed. “When my mom had yours cook for events.”
I remembered.
Standing in the kitchen doorway, not really part of it, not really outside it either. Waiting. Listening.
Watching.
“My mum always liked you,” Melissa added. “Said you were the polite one.”
My jaw tightened slightly.
“Then Tessa showed up,” Melissa said quietly. “And everything changed.”
I didn’t answer.
“We could go back,” she said. “To how it was before.”
Her hand brushed mine.
Stayed.
I didn’t pull away.
Because it was easier not to.
Because it didn’t ask anything of me.
Because for a second, it dulled the edge of everything else.
The kiss happened like that.
Slow.
Unremarkable.
I didn’t lean in.
But I didn’t stop it either.
For a second—it helped.
Then it didn’t.
I felt wrong.
I pulled back.
“No,” I said.
My voice sounded wrong.
“This isn’t it.”
Melissa didn’t argue.
She just nodded, like she’d expected it.
The day of homecoming, she showed up again.
“You’re not going, right?” she asked.
“No.”
“Good.” Relief slipped through her voice. “I can take the suit, if you want. So you’re not tempted.”
“I’m not tempted.”
“Still,” she said lightly.
I let her take it.
Watched her carry it out.
Like the decision had already been made.
I hadn’t gone.
I’d waited anyway.
Sat in my room, staring at my phone longer than I wanted to admit.
It didn’t light up.
The next week, I avoided her.
At first by accident.
Then on purpose.
Because I didn’t know how to look at her and pretend I didn’t know what I knew.
She didn’t try.
That had hurt more than anything.
I joined the lacrosse team two weeks later.
Not because I cared about the sport.
I didn’t.
I could barely keep up at first. Too light. Too slow. Getting knocked off balance like I didn’t belong there.
But I stayed.
Because that was where they were.
Where she was.
Where the guys she said yes to stood.
I told myself it was about proximity.
About keeping an eye on things.
That wasn’t the whole truth.
The truth was simpler.
I thought if I stayed long enough—
If I got stronger, harder to ignore—
Maybe I’d start to look like someone she wouldn’t be embarrassed to stand next to.
I thought that I was there already.
But I guess I was wrong.
----
I went inside.
The house was quiet—kitchen light on, everything else dark. My mom was already asleep.
Good.
I didn’t want to talk.
I moved through the house on memory and went upstairs.
My room felt smaller now.
Or maybe I just wasn’t.
I stepped inside, closed the door, and crossed straight to the window.
Across the narrow strip of grass and the low fence was her house.
Dark.
No light in her room.
I stood there, watching longer than I needed to.
She wasn’t home yet.
Of course she wasn’t.
I let out a slow breath, my hand coming up to rest against the glass.
I pushed away from the window.
Sat down on the edge of the bed.
It had been one kiss.
One.
And it hadn’t meant anything.
Not like that.
Not like the one with her.
That one had mattered.
I knew it had.
So why—
My jaw clenched.
Did it matter that much to her? She didn't want to be with me back then anyway.
I stopped the thought.
But it stayed.
What if that was it.
Something small.
Simple.
Enough to make her walk away.
My chest tightened slowly.
Of course it would matter to her.
Of course it would be that.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
That was all.
And somewhere out there, she was still with them.
Not here.
Not with me.
I closed my eyes.
And let that settle.