The hallways felt heavier today. I walked with Chloe, trying to act normal, but after her confession yesterday… it wasn't the same. She liked Rylan. Rylan, who had been acting so distant lately.
Chloe had always been kind and gentle, but when she talked about Rylan, her eyes softened differently. I wasn't sure how I felt. Torn? Confused? Maybe even… guilty.
Just as I was lost in thought, we saw Damien by the lockers, jaw clenched. His eyes—those stormy blue ones—were darker than usual. He hadn't said much this morning. I knew why.
The rumors.
They were everywhere. Whispered in corridors, scribbled in bathroom stalls, even messaged anonymously online.
Ava and Rylan? Secretly dating behind Damien's back?
I wanted to scream.
Damien's gaze flicked to me, then to Rylan, who was walking down the hall. The tension? Unbearable.
---
(Damien's POV)
I knew the rumors were lies.
But lies had a way of clawing into your chest. The sketchbook in my bag felt like a weight—Ava's face etched in graphite, too perfect to let go of.
But what haunted me more than the whispers? My father's voice.
"Emotions are weakness, Damien. Focus on the legacy. Focus on control."
I remembered the echo of footsteps in the mansion, the walls so tall they swallowed light. My father, Vincent Blackwell, rarely raised his voice—but when he did, it carved scars into your mind.
He wanted me to become him.
And I had run.
But right now, I wasn't afraid of my father. I was afraid of losing Ava.
And the way Rylan looked at her—that soft, quiet ache—I knew it too well. Because it was the same way I looked at her once.
Before the rumors.
Before the silence.
---
(Chloe's POV)
I had to tell her. I couldn't keep pretending.
So I told Ava the truth. That I liked Rylan. That I'd liked him for a while.
And she didn't say anything. Just nodded.
But when she looked away, her smile slipped.
Did I mess up everything?
---
(Rylan's POV)
She barely looked at me anymore.
And I hated that it mattered. I never meant to get tangled in feelings. That wasn't the plan. But Ava… she wasn't just a crush.
She was the girl who smiled when she spoke about books. The girl who brushed her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.
The girl I couldn't have.
And when Chloe looked at me the way I looked at Ava—I felt like the villain.
---
(Ezra's POV)
I saw Chloe sitting alone under the tree behind the science wing.
Her hair moved with the breeze, and she was tracing something in her notebook. Probably another quote. She loved those.
I wanted to go over. Say something funny. Tease her. But I didn't.
Because lately, my jokes didn't feel like jokes.
They felt like something more.