The day after Damien confessed, I woke up smiling.
It was a soft kind of smile. The kind that just… stays with you. Like a favorite song playing quietly in the background of your mind.
I kept thinking about the way he held my hand. The way he looked at me like I was something worth keeping.
But the moment I walked into class, I felt it — something off in the air.
Rylan wasn't sitting in his usual seat. He always got to class early, always had a joke or a crooked smile ready. But today?
Nothing.
At lunch, it got worse. He was at the far end of the table with some classmates I didn't even know he was close to. He didn't look my way. Not once.
Chloe noticed too. "Did you guys fight or something?"
I shook my head slowly. "No… at least, not that I know of."
But something gnawed at my chest.
I couldn't just sit there.
So after lunch, I found him by the lockers. Alone.
He didn't look surprised to see me — just tired.
"Hey," I said gently. "You've been kind of distant today."
He didn't meet my eyes. "Just tired, that's all."
"Rylan," I said, stepping closer, "if something's wrong, you can tell me."
He finally looked at me. His expression was unreadable, like he'd built a wall overnight. "Do you always let people in this easily?"
I blinked. "What?"
He let out a small, hollow laugh. "Forget it."
"No—Rylan, I'm serious. If I did something wrong—"
"You didn't," he cut in quickly. "You didn't do anything wrong, Ava. You were just… being honest. And so was he."
I stared at him, stunned.
He knew.
He saw.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
"Rylan…" I whispered.
"I liked you," he said softly, the confession slipping out like it was too heavy to carry. "Maybe I still do. But that's not your fault. That's just… me being late."
My chest ached.
"I never wanted to hurt you," I said.
He gave a sad smile. "You didn't."
But still — his eyes said something else.
Before I could say more, he turned away and walked down the hallway, hands stuffed in his pockets, head down.
And I stood there, torn between feeling wanted and feeling guilty.
Why did something sweet always have to come with a sting?