𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻

After something went wrong in her old town, Y/N’s family packs up and moves just before her senior year. No one ever really says it outright, but the blame follows her at home, everything feels colder, more distant. If she wants anything, she has to earn it herself.

Trying to stay out of the house as much as possible, Y/N notices her neighbor struggling with a broken lawnmower one afternoon. She steps in to help, not expecting much from it. But the woman, grateful, invites her inside and that’s when Y/N meets her daughter, Manon Bannerman, who happens to be in the same grade.

That small moment turns into something more. Y/N starts doing odd jobs for the Bannerman household, earning a little money and, for a while, a sense of stability she doesn’t have at home.

But when school starts, everything shifts.

Instead of being a familiar face, Manon becomes part of the crowd that targets Y/N. The bullying is constant, and Manon along with her friends seems determined to make Y/N’s life even harder.

Pairing: loser g!p reader x populargirlManon

Featuring: katseye

Notes: this smau does not reflect the real people within it, as i do not know them personally. this is also solely for entertainment purposes so please do not take it as seriously.

Taglist: @404cantfindizzie @nightmanon @rlotpuppy @lucastrans @sarahsonya78 @spiderpunkmanon @iviza @jojifolklore @spiderx18 @arandomperson407 @xiiaann @theeintovertedgoof2109 @iamrandompersonhehe @aoeiurgnmddk

Profiles: katseye, dozen

My own worst enemy

Messy

Ballad of the outcast

First dinner

Brutal

You belong with me

Vienna

Carnival

lie to girls

thanksgiving

Better off

Dang

Girls night Pt1

Sleepover Pt2

Fake date

Bad idea

nutshell

lover

it will rain

get her back!

prom

First date

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻

Prev- main

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

Graduation day had finally arrived.

Two months had passed since Y/N left her family home and moved into Asher's house. Two months of sleeping on a couch that was slowly becoming comfortable. Two months of rebuilding her life piece by piece.

Two months of being with Manon.

Their relationship had deepened in ways neither of them expected. The fake dating was a distant memory a joke they laughed about now, lying in Manon's bed, tangled in each other. They'd become real. Solid. The kind of thing that felt like forever.

But while Y/N was finding happiness, the L/N household was falling apart.

Matt had become worse since prom. Louder. More violent. He'd lost Lexie, lost his friends, lost the respect of everyone who used to look up to him. The golden boy had tarnished, and he couldn't handle it.

He lashed out at anyone who got close.

Christian avoided him. Ayden stayed in his room. Harley spent as much time at friends' houses as possible.

And Darren and Cassandra? They didn't know what to do.

They'd tried everything grounding him, talking to him, sending him to a therapist he refused to see. Nothing worked. He was spiraling, and they were helpless.

So they called Y/N.

𝓨/𝓝 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

I stared at my phone for a long time after the call ended.

My mother's voice had been shaky something I'd never heard before. She'd asked me to come home. To talk to Matt. To help.

I should have said no.

I had every right to say no.

But I thought about Harley. About the little sister who'd slipped food under my door and cried when I left. About the girl who'd helped me get ready for prom, who'd told me not to give up.

I thought about the family that had failed me. And I thought about how maybe just maybe I could be the one to break the cycle.

So I went.

The house looked the same.

Same front porch. Same creaky steps. Same door that had closed behind me so many times, each time feeling like a rejection.

I walked inside.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. No TV. No voices. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock in the hallway.

My mother appeared from the kitchen. She looked older than I remembered. Tired. Worn down.

"Y/N," she said. Her voice was soft. Uncertain. "Thank you for coming."

I didn't say anything. I didn't know how.

"He's upstairs," she continued. "In his room. He's been in there all day."

I nodded and walked past her, toward the stairs.

I didn't knock.

I opened the door to Matt's room and walked inside.

Matt was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall.

He looked different. Smaller. His shoulders were slumped. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he'd been crying or wanted to. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something hollow.

He didn't look at me when I came in.

"Mom called you," he said.

"Yeah."

"Didn't think you'd come."

"Neither did I."

Silence.

I sat down on his desk chair, across from him. The same chair he'd thrown at me once. The same room where he'd beaten me more times than I could count.

Neither of us spoke for a long moment.

Then Matt let out a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry."

I blinked.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He finally looked at me. His eyes were wet. "For everything. For all of it. The hitting. The name-calling. The way I treated you."

I didn't respond.

"You were never the problem," he continued. "I was. I was so jealous of you. You were smarter. You were stronger. You didn't need anyone to tell you who you were." He laughed bitter, broken. "I was always trying to be something. You just were."

"Matt—"

"You were a better choice than me," he said. "For Manon. For everything. I couldn't stand that you were better than me. So I tried to break you."

"You did break me," I said quietly.

He flinched.

"But I got back up," I continued. "I'm still getting back up. And I will keep getting up. Not because of you. Because of me."

Matt stared at me.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," he said. "I don't deserve it. But I wanted to say it. I wanted you to know that I know what I did. I know."

I looked at my brother. The boy who'd made my life hell. The boy who was now sitting in front of me, crying, broken, human.

"I don't forgive you," I said. "Not yet. Not today. Maybe not ever."

He nodded, like he'd expected that.

"But I hear you," I finished. "And I'm glad you said it."

He looked up at me. Something shifted in his expression a small crack in the armor he'd worn for years.

"Can I hug you?" he asked.

I hesitated.

Then I stood up and walked over to him.

He wrapped his arms around me. I didn't hug back at first. Then, slowly, my arms came up and I held him.

We stayed like that for a long moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again.

"I know," I said.

When I walked out of Matt's room, Darren was waiting in the hallway.

He looked older too. Weaker. The confidence he'd always carried had faded.

"Y/N," he said. "Can we talk?"

I stopped. Nodded.

He led me to the living room. We sat on opposite ends of the couch. The same couch where I'd sat during Thanksgiving, surrounded by relatives who hated me.

"I was wrong," Darren said. "About everything. About you. About the way I treated you."

I stared at him.

"You didn't deserve any of it," he continued. "You were a kid. You were hurting. And I blamed you for things that weren't your fault."

"I was born different," I said. "You made me feel like that was a crime."

"I know." His voice cracked. "I was ashamed. Not of you of myself. I didn't know how to handle it. So I pushed you away. I made you feel like you were the problem because I couldn't face the fact that I was."

I didn't say anything.

"I see you now," he said. "I see everything you went through. Everything I let happen." Tears fell down his face. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I know that doesn't fix it. I know I can't take it back. But I'm sorry."

I felt my own eyes sting.

"Dad—"

"I don't expect forgiveness," he said quickly. "I just wanted you to know. I'm proud of you. I've always been proud of you. I was just too scared to show it."

I didn't know what to say.

So I stood up, walked over to him, and hugged him.

The first hug we'd ever shared.

He held me tight, his shoulders shaking.

We stayed like that for a long time.

The auditorium was packed.

Families filled the seats. Graduates sat in rows, caps and gowns, nerves and excitement.

Y/N stood at the podium, her speech in her hands. She'd been chosen as valedictorian—the highest honor in the senior class.

She looked out at the crowd and found Manon in the front row.

Manon smiled. Nodded. You've got this.

Y/N took a breath and began to speak.

"Good afternoon, everyone.

I'm going to be honest with you. I didn't always think I'd be standing here today. There were times when I didn't think I'd survive high school at all.

I was bullied. I was beaten. I was told I was worthless by people who were supposed to love me. I spent years believing that I was the problem."

The auditorium was silent.

"But I learned something. Something I want you all to take with you today.

Your circumstances don't define you. The people who hurt you don't define you. The names you've been called don't define you.

What defines you is what you do next. How you get back up. Who you choose to love. Who you choose to become."

She paused.

"I was called Frankenstein. I was told I was a freak. I was told I would never be anything. And I almost believed it."

Manon was crying. Y/N could see her wiping her eyes.

"But I met people who showed me differently. My best friend, who taught me that loyalty matters more than popularity. My sister, who slipped food under my door when no one else would. And my partner, who saw me at my worst and decided I was worth loving anyway."

She looked directly at Manon.

"To anyone out there who feels like they don't belong you do. To anyone who feels invisible you are seen. To anyone who feels like giving up don't. Not yet. Not ever. Because one day, you'll look back on all of this and realize that the pain didn't break you. It shaped you. And the future you build will be beautiful."

She held up her diploma.

"This is just the beginning. We're going to do amazing things. All of us. I believe that."

The crowd erupted in applause.

NO ONES POV:

Y/N stepped back from the podium.

The parking lot was full of cars, families, balloons, flowers. Graduates hugged, cried, took photos.

Manon ran toward Y/N and threw her arms around her.

"That was incredible," she said. "You were incredible."

Y/N hugged her back. "I was so nervous."

"You didn't look it."

"I was."

"Liar."

Y/N laughed.

Manon pulled back and looked at her. Her eyes were still wet, but she was smiling.

"I love you," she said.

Y/N felt her heart swell.

"I love you too," she said. "So much."

Manon kissed her soft, sweet, in front of everyone.

Someone cheered. Someone wolf-whistled. Harley was taking photos on her phone.

Y/N pulled back and rested her forehead against Manon's.

"So," she said. "What now?"

Manon grinned. "LA. Film school. Modeling. A future."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Better than a plan." Manon took her hand. "It's a promise."

Y/N squeezed her hand.

"Together?" she asked.

"Always."

The sun was setting behind them, casting everything in gold.

And for the first time in her life, Y/N felt like the future was wide open.

Thank you for reading every word. Thank you for caring about these characters. Thank you for being part of this story.

Taglist:@404cantfindizzie@nightmanon@rlotpuppy@lucastrans@sarahsonya78@spiderpunkmanon@iviza@jojifolklore@spiderx18@arandomperson407@xiiaann@theeintovertedgoof2109 @iamrandompersonhehe @aoeiurgnmddk@silverghost1621@r3al-l0s3r@morganismspam23@jxhjxba@scarly07@katseyeluvrrr

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻

Prev - main - next

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓓𝓪𝓽𝓮

𝓨/𝓝 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

I opened my eyes.

The sun was glistening through Manon's curtains, casting everything in soft gold. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Then I felt the warmth beside me, the weight of an arm draped across my waist.

I turned my head.

Manon was already awake, propped on her elbow, watching me. Her fingers were threading through my hair, slow and gentle.

"Good morning," she said. Her voice had a certain rasp sleepy, intimate.

"Good morning." My own voice was hoarse. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have in weeks." She smiled. "You?"

I thought about it. No nightmares. No waking up in a cold sweat. No checking the locks every hour.

"Same," I said. "I actually feel rested."

"Good." She leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Because I have plans for us today."

"Plans?"

"Our first date. A real one. No fake. No performance." She traced her finger down my cheek. "Just you and me."

I blinked. "You planned a date?"

"I planned the idea. You're supposed to execute it."

"Manon—"

"Y/N." She kissed my nose. "You asked for another chance. This is your chance. Take me somewhere that makes me feel like you actually see me."

I stared at her. Her eyes were bright, hopeful, patient.

"Okay," I said. "I'll plan something."

She grinned. "That's what I wanted to hear."

I spent the next hour in a panic.

I'd never planned a date before. Not a real one. I didn't know what girls liked what Manon liked. Flowers? Too cliché. Dinner? Too boring. A movie? She'd probably fall asleep.

I needed help.

I drove to Asher's house and banged on his door until he opened it, still in his pajamas.

"It's nine in the morning," he said.

"I need your help."

He squinted at me. "You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

"I'm planning a date. For Manon. A real one. What do I do?"

Asher stepped aside and let me in. I paced his living room while he made coffee.

"Okay," he said, handing me a mug. "What does Manon like?"

"Everything? She likes fashion, photography, food, music—"

"Pick one."

I thought about it. "She likes art. She dragged me to a gallery once and talked about every painting like she knew the artist personally."

Asher nodded. "Good. Art gallery. Then lunch somewhere nice. Nothing too fancy, but not fast food. Then a walk somewhere pretty."

"That's it?"

"That's it." He shrugged. "It's not about the location, Y/N. It's about the effort. She wants to know you thought about her."

I grabbed his shoulders. "You're a genius."

"I know." He patted my back. "Now go. You have a date to plan."

𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

An hour later, I was sitting on my bed with the girls scattered around my room.

"Okay," Dani said, flopping onto the floor. "Spill. Everything. From prom to now."

I told them.

About the dance. About Matt trying to ask me and Y/N walking in. About the diner. About bringing her home. About—

"Wait." Megan held up a hand. "You brought her home? To your room? And then what happened?"

I felt my face heat up.

"OMG, you had sex." Sophia's eyes went wide.

"Tell us everything, Manon," Dani said, leaning forward. "How was it?"

I looked around at the girls Dani, Megan, Lara, Sophia, all of them staring at me with a mix of shock and curiosity.

I bit my lip.

Should I tell them?

They were my best friends. They'd been there through everything Matt, Jonah, the fake dating, the fights, the tears. If I couldn't tell them, who could I tell?

"Okay," I said. "But you have to promise not to freak out."

"Freak out about what?" Megan asked.

I took a breath.

"Y/N is different," I said carefully. "She was born intersex. She has male genitals."

The room went silent.

For a second, I was terrified. Had I said too much? Was this too much information? Would they judge her? Would they judge me?

Then Dani spoke.

"So?" she said.

I blinked. "What?"

"So she has male genitals." Dani shrugged. "Does that change who she is?"

"Of course not—"

"Then why would we care?"

I stared at her. Then at the other girls.

Megan was nodding. "Yeah, that's not a big deal. Bodies are weird. Everyone's is different."

"She's still Y/N," Lara added. "The girl who fixed lawnmowers and writes screenplays and makes you smile."

Yoonchae nodded. "She's still the same person."

Sophia reached over and squeezed my hand. "We don't care about that stuff, Manon. We care about you. And if she makes you happy, that's all that matters."

I felt tears prick my eyes.

"Guys—"

"Stop crying," Megan said, but she was smiling. "We haven't heard about the sex yet."

I laughed through my tears. "You're all insane."

"We know," Dani said. "Now spill."

I took another breath.

"She was amazing," I said. "Like, actually amazing. She asked if I was okay the entire time. She made sure I was comfortable. She didn't rush anything. It was so different from anyone else I've been with."

"Different how?" Lara asked.

"He didn't—" I hesitated. "Matt never asked if I was okay. He just took what he wanted. Y/N asked. She made it about me. She made me feel safe."

Dani's expression softened. "That's really sweet."

"It was." I smiled. "And physically, she was... incredible. Gentle but confident. She knew what she was doing, but she also listened. If I said something felt good, she did more. If I pulled back, she stopped."

"I'm going to cry," Megan said. "Why is this making me emotional?"

"Because it's real," Yoonchae said. "Matt never gave her that. Y/N does."

We sat in silence for a moment.

Then Lara leaned forward. "So... how was she compared to Matt?"

"Miles better. Like, not even close. Matt was selfish. He never cared about what I wanted." I laughed. "Y/N actually makes me feel good. Not just physically emotionally. I feel seen. And heard. And loved."

"It's the little things," Sophia said. "The way she looks at you. The way she remembers what you like. The way she planned that whole date."

"Exactly," I said. "She's so different. So much better."

"Okay, but the real question," Megan said. "Why did you call her Frankenstein if you were secretly in love with her?"

I groaned. "I was an idiot."

"You were," Dani agreed. "But you're better now."

"Thanks for the reminder."

We talked for another hour. They asked questions some embarrassing, some sweet, some I couldn't answer because I was too busy blushing.

Then Megan sat up straighter.

"Okay, but what's Y/N planning?"

"What do you mean?"

"For your first real date Or whatever. She has to be planning something. She's thoughtful like that."

I shook my head. "She didn't tell me."

"Good. That's good. It means it's a surprise."

"Should I be nervous?"

"Never," Dani said. "It's Y/N. She could plan a trip to the dump and it would be romantic."

We all laughed.

𝓯𝓮𝔀 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻

𝓨/𝓝 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

Three days of planning. Three days of second-guessing every decision. Three days of Asher telling me to calm down and Dani sending me encouraging texts and Harley calling me every hour to ask if I'd picked out my outfit yet.

I'd never planned a date before. Not a real one. Not one that actually mattered.

But this mattered.

Manon mattered.

So I put in the effort.

I pulled up to her house at exactly seven o'clock.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Her porch light was on. The front door was slightly ajar, like she'd been waiting.

I got out of the car, smoothed down my shirt, and walked up the steps.

Before I could knock, the door swung open.

Manon stood there, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

She was wearing a cream-colored dress simple, short sleeves, the kind of fabric that caught the light and moved when she did. A thin gold necklace rested against her collarbone. Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves past her shoulders. Her makeup was minimal just enough to enhance what was already there.

She looked perfect.

Not polished. Not performative. Just... her.

"You look—" I started. My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. "You look beautiful."

She smiled—a real smile, the kind that reached her eyes. "You too."

I glanced down at myself. Jeans. Button-down. Boots. My usual uniform, but I'd actually tried. The shirt was ironed. The boots were clean. I'd even put on a little cologne, something subtle that I'd borrowed from Asher's bathroom.

I probably looked like I was trying too hard.

But the way she was looking at me made me think maybe that was okay.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Ready."

I took her to an art gallery downtown.

It wasn't famous. It wasn't fancy. Just a small space tucked between a coffee shop and a bookstore, the kind of place you'd walk past without noticing. Inside, the walls were painted a warm cream color. The lighting was soft and golden. Local artists' work hung on every surface paintings, photographs, mixed media pieces that made you stop and think.

Manon's face lit up the moment we walked in.

"Y/N—" She turned to me, eyes wide. "How did you know?"

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "You mentioned it once. When we were at the mall. You said you liked art galleries. I remembered."

She stared at me for a second. Then she pulled me into a hug tight, sudden, her arms wrapped around my neck.

"No one's ever done that before," she whispered.

I hugged her back, my hands settling on her waist. "Done what?"

"Remembered something I said. And used it."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Get used to it."

We spent two hours in the gallery.

She talked about every painting. Her voice was animated, her hands moving as she explained color theory and composition and why the blue one made her feel sad and the yellow one made her feel hopeful.

I didn't understand half of it.

But I loved watching her.

The way her eyes lit up when she found something that spoke to her. The way she tilted her head when she was trying to figure out what the artist meant. The way she'd touch my arm when she got excited, her fingers warm against my skin.

At one point, she stopped in front of a painting of a girl sitting alone in a field. The sky was dark. The grass was tall. The girl was small, almost swallowed by the landscape.

"This one," she said quietly. "This one reminds me of you."

I looked at it. "Why?"

"Because you always look like you're waiting for someone to find you." She turned to me. "But I think you're actually waiting for someone to stay."

I didn't know what to say to that.

She took my hand and squeezed it. "I'm staying, Y/N. I'm not going anywhere."

I squeezed back. "I know."

We moved on, but her words stayed with me the rest of the night.

After the gallery, I took her to a small french place near the water.

It wasn't fancy just a little restaurant with red-checkered tablecloths and candles in glass jars. The tables were outside, strung with fairy lights that twinkled in the evening breeze. The pasta was homemade. The wine was cheap but good.

We sat across from each other, our knees brushing under the table.

"This is perfect," she said, twirling pasta on her fork.

"You're perfect."

She looked up, eyebrows raised. "That was cheesy."

"I meant it."

She reached across the table and took my hand. Her fingers laced through mine, warm and steady.

"I'm glad you asked me out," she said. "For real."

"Me too."

"Like, actually for real. Not fake. Not for show. Just us."

I lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Just us."

She blushed. Actually blushed her cheeks going pink, her eyes dropping to the table.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. I just—" She laughed. "I'm not used to this."

"Used to what?"

"Being treated like I matter."

I set down her hand and reached for her chin, tilting her face up toward me.

"You matter," I said. "You've always mattered. Even when you called me Frankenstein."

She winced. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Never."

"Fair enough."

We ate. We talked. We laughed at nothing and everything. She stole a fry off my plate. I stole a sip of her wine. It felt easy. Natural. Like we'd been doing this for years instead of weeks.

After dinner, we walked along the waterfront.

The stars were out bright and scattered across the sky like someone had thrown a handful of diamonds across black velvet. The water lapped against the shore, gentle and rhythmic. The air was cool and clean, carrying the faint smell of salt.

Manon leaned into me as we walked, her shoulder pressed against mine, her hand tucked into my jacket pocket.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"This is the best date I've ever been on."

I glanced down at her. "Really?"

"Really." She stopped walking and turned to face me. "No one has ever been this thoughtful. This intentional. You actually listened to what I said. You planned something that was about menot about you, not about impressing anyone else."

I didn't know what to say.

She stepped closer. "I've dated a lot of people. Mostly guys. They all did the same thing. Fancy restaurants. Expensive gifts. It was all for show. None of them actually saw me."

She reached up and touched my face, her palm warm against my cheek.

"But you do. You see me."

I covered her hand with mine. "Because you're worth seeing."

She kissed me.

Not fast. Not desperate. Slow and soft and full of everything we hadn't said yet.

Her lips moved against mine like she was trying to memorize the shape of me. Her hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I felt her sigh against my lips, felt the tension leave her body.

When she pulled back, her eyes were wet.

"I love you," she said.

I blinked. My brain short-circuited. Had I heard that right?

"You don't have to say it back," she added quickly, her cheeks flushing. "I know we just started dating and it's fast and—"

"I love you too."

She stopped.

I smiled a real smile, the kind that reached my eyes. "I think I've loved you since you climbed through my window. Or maybe since the carnival. Or maybe since the library, when you kissed me and didn't run away."

"Y/N—"

"You asked for another chance," I said. "And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve it."

She laughed bright, surprised, full of joy.

"Okay," she said. "That's a really good answer."

She kissed me again.

The stars were out. The water was lapping against the shore. And for the first time in my life, everything felt exactly right.

We walked back to the car hand in hand, the night air wrapping around us like a blanket.

When I dropped her off, she didn't go inside right away.

She stood on her porch, the porch light casting a golden halo around her head. Her hair was slightly mussed from the wind. Her lips were slightly swollen from kissing.

She looked like a dream.

"Thank you," she said. "For tonight. For everything."

I got out of the car and walked up the steps. "You don't have to thank me."

"I want to." She took my hands, her fingers cold against mine. "You're the best partner I've ever had, Y/N. I don't know how I got so lucky."

I squeezed her hands. "Trust me. I'm the lucky one."

She kissed me one more time long and slow and perfect. Her lips moved against mine like she was saying goodbye, but she wasn't. She was saying more.

"Stay," she whispered.

I looked at her. At the hope in her eyes. At the trust she was offering me.

"Asher's couch is getting uncomfortable anyway."

She laughed bright and warm and pulled me inside.

The door closed behind us.

Taglist:@404cantfindizzie@nightmanon@rlotpuppy@lucastrans@sarahsonya78@spiderpunkmanon@iviza@jojifolklore@spiderx18@arandomperson407@xiiaann@theeintovertedgoof2109 @iamrandompersonhehe @aoeiurgnmddk @silverghost1621 @r3al-l0s3r @morganismspam23 @jxhjxba @scarly07

@katseyeluvrrr

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻

Prev - main - next

𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶

𝓨/𝓝 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

Prom day.

The day after the party.

I hadn't slept.

The scene kept replaying in my head Manon's hand connecting with my face, the horror in her eyes, the way she whispered "I can't do this anymore." Then she walked away. She didn't look back.

I'd driven home to Asher's couch and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

My cheek wasn't bruised. Not really. Just a faint redness that had faded by morning. But I could still feel it. The ghost of her touch.

She didn't mean it.

It doesn't matter.

She's done with me.

I was still in my sweats when Asher walked into the living room. He was already dressed black suit, white shirt, a tie hanging loose around his neck.

"You're not ready," he said.

"I'm not going."

He stopped. "What?"

"I'm not feeling good." I pulled the blanket up to my chin. "Go without me."

Asher stood there for a long moment. His expression shifted concern, frustration, something softer underneath.

"Y/N."

"Asher, please. I can't."

He didn't push. He just nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said. "But I'm leaving your ticket on the counter. In case you change your mind."

He grabbed his boutonniere from the kitchen table and walked to the door.

"Asher?"

He turned.

"Tell Dani she looks beautiful for me."

He smiled small, sad. "You can tell her yourself. If you show up."

Then he left.

The door clicked shut.

I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence.

I couldn't stay there.

The walls were closing in. Asher's das's footsteps upstairs. The clock ticking. The weight of the day pressing down on my chest.

I grabbed my keys and drove.

No destination. Just... away.

Through the city streets. Past the school, where students were probably taking pictures, fixing corsages, pretending to be happy. Past the mall, where Manon and I had eaten pretzel bites and she'd called me her fake girlfriend. Past the trail where Asher and I had screamed off a cliff.

The sun started to set.

Orange and pink bled across the sky. Streetlights flickered on. The city turned golden.

My phone rang.

I glanced at the screen.

Harley.

I pulled over and answered.

"Hey."

"Y/N." Her voice was breathless. "Where are you?"

"Driving. Why?"

"Can you pick me up? I need to get out of here. Matt's being... Matt."

I sighed. "Yeah. I'll be there in ten."

Harley was waiting on the curb when I pulled up. She climbed into the passenger seat and immediately started talking.

"Thank you. I couldn't breathe in there. Matt and his friends are taking over the house. Mom and Dad are arguing about something. And Wade keeps texting me even though we're done—" She stopped. "Wait. Why aren't you dressed?"

I looked down at my sweats. Old t-shirt. Hoodie. Messy bun.

"I'm not going," I said.

Harley's eyes went wide. "To prom? But you've been talking about it for weeks. You bought a tuxedo. You showed me the pictures."

I gripped the steering wheel.

"Something happened," I said.

"What?"

I told her.

Everything. The plan with Megan. The jealousy. Manon yelling. The way I reached for her. The way she pulled back. Her hand catching my face.

Harley listened. She didn't interrupt. She didn't gasp or judge.

When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.

"She didn't mean to hit you," Harley said finally.

"I know."

"But it still hurt."

I nodded.

Harley reached over and put her hand on mine. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

I looked at her. "What?"

"Y/N. You've been through worse than this. You survived Matt. You survived your parents. You survived being homeless and sleeping in your car and losing everything." She squeezed my hand. "You can survive a fight with Manon."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is." She glanced out the window. The sun had almost set. "But it's not too late. Prom is still happening. She's still there."

"I can't just show up. She doesn't want to see me."

"You don't know that."

"Harley—"

"You don't." She turned back to me. "You've spent your whole life assuming the worst. Assuming people will leave. Assuming you're not worth fighting for. But what if you're wrong? What if she's waiting? What if she's standing by the punch bowl, pretending she's fine, wishing you'd walk through the door?"

I stared at her.

"At least try," she said. "If she tells you to leave, you leave. But at least you'll know you tried."

I looked at the sky. The last light was fading.

"It's almost dark," I said. "Prom started an hour ago."

"Then we better hurry." Harley grinned. "Drive us back to Asher's. I'm doing your hair."

Asher's mom let us in. She didn't ask questions just smiled and went back to her room.

Harley dragged me to the bathroom and made me shower. She laid out the tuxedo on the couch black jacket, black pants, white shirt, a slim black tie. I'd bought it weeks ago, back when I thought everything was perfect.

"Put that on," she said. "I'll find a mirror."

I changed in the bathroom.

The tux fit well tailored, sharp. I barely recognized myself in the small mirror. My hair was still wet. My eyes were tired.

But I looked like someone who belonged at a prom.

Harley knocked. "You done?"

"Yeah."

She opened the door and stopped.

"Wow," she said.

"Wow?"

"You clean up nice, big sister."

I almost smiled. "Thanks."

She pulled me to Asher's room and sat me in front of his desk mirror. Then she got to work blow-drying my hair, styling it back, adding something that made it look intentional instead of messy.

"Where did you learn to do this?" I asked.

"Videos. Also, I watch a lot of beauty influencers." She shrugged. "Don't tell Mom."

I laughed. It was small and broken, but it was real.

Harley finished and stepped back. "Look."

I looked in the mirror.

My hair was slicked back, clean, classic. My contacts were on no glasses tonight. The tux fit like it was made for me.

I looked like someone ready to fight for something.

"Thank you," I said.

"Don't thank me yet." Harley grabbed my keys. "Now go. Before you lose your nerve."

I stood up. Took a breath.

"What if she's already dancing with someone else?" I asked.

"Then you wait. Or you cut in." Harley opened the front door. "But you don't stand outside wondering."

I walked past her, into the cool night air.

The stars were out. The moon was bright.

I got in my car and drove toward the school.

𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

The gymnasium looked like something out of a movie.

Twinkling lights draped across the ceiling. Balloons in silver and blue. A fake starry backdrop for photos. The DJ was playing something slow, couples swaying on the dance floor, everyone dressed up and pretending to be adults.

I stood near the punch bowl with Megan and Yoonchae, holding a cup I wasn't drinking from.

"He's staring at you again," Megan said.

"Who?"

"Matt. Over by the photo booth. With Lexie." She didn't bother hiding her disgust. "He keeps looking over here like he wants to apologize."

"I don't want his apology."

"Good. Because he's not sorry." Megan nudged me. "But speaking of people who might be sorry... have you seen Y/N?"

My chest tightened.

"No."

I'd been looking all night. Scanning the crowd, the dance floor, the edges of the room. Every time the doors opened, my heart jumped.

She wasn't here.

Because of me.

Because I'd pushed her away. Because I'd yelled at her. Because my hand had connected with her face, accident or not.

She's not coming.

You ruined it.

"You're doing it again," Yoonchae said softly.

"Doing what?"

"Frowning. You've been frowning all night." She touched my arm. "She's not here. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself."

Megan grabbed my hand. "Come on. We're dancing."

"Megan—"

"No arguments. You've been moping for an hour. Y/N wouldn't want you to be miserable." She pulled me toward the dance floor. "One dance. Then you can go back to being sad."

I let her drag me.

The music was faster now something with a beat, something that didn't require a partner. Megan danced like no one was watching. Yoonchae joined us, laughing at something I couldn't hear.

For a few minutes, I forgot.

Then the song ended. The lights dimmed. A slow song started something old, something soft.

And Matt was standing in front of me.

"Manon," he said. "Dance with me."

I stared at him. "No."

"Come on. One dance. For old times."

"I'm with someone."

He glanced around. "Where?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Y/N wasn't here.

"Just one dance," he said again. He held out his hand.

I was about to say no again. I was about to walk away.

Then the doors opened.

I looked up.

Y/N walked in.

She was wearing a tuxedo.

Black jacket, black pants, white shirt, a slim black tie. Her hair was styled back clean, classic, nothing like her usual messy bun. Her glasses were gone. Her jaw was set.

She looked like she'd walked out of a movie.

My jaw dropped.

Matt was still talking. I didn't hear a word.

I walked away from him didn't even say goodbye and crossed the gymnasium floor.

People stared. I didn't care.

Y/N saw me coming. She stopped walking. Her expression was hard to read nervous, hopeful, terrified.

"Manon—"

"Dance with me."

She blinked. "What?"

"Dance with me." I didn't wait for an answer. I grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the floor.

The music was slow. The lights were low.

I put my hand on her shoulder. She put her hand on my waist.

We started moving.

"I didn't think you'd come," I said.

"I almost didn't."

"Why did you?"

She looked at me. Her eyes were tired but steady.

"Because Harley told me not to give up."

I swallowed. "Y/N, I'm sorry. About the other night. About hitting you. I didn't mean—"

"I know." She pulled me a little closer. "It was an accident. I'm not mad."

"You should be."

"I'm not." She held my gaze. "I'm tired of being mad. I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of pushing you away."

"Me too."

We swayed in silence. The song played on.

"I was wrong," I said. "At the party. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I shouldn't have walked away. You were trying to apologize, and I didn't listen."

"You were hurt."

"That's not an excuse."

"No," she agreed. "It's not. But I understand." She took a breath. "I was wrong too. I should have told you about the car. About the fight with Matt. About everything. I was scared, and I shut you out instead of letting you in."

"I would have helped you."

"I know. That's why I was scared." She smiled small, sad. "I'm not used to people wanting to help me."

I reached up and touched her face. Her cheek was smooth, unmarked. No bruise. No evidence of what I'd done.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"I know."

The song was ending.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Ask me."

She frowned. "Ask you what?"

"Ask me for another chance."

She stared at me. Her hand tightened on my waist.

"Manon," she said slowly, "will you give me another chance?"

I laughed bright, surprised, like I'd been holding my breath for days and finally let it go.

"Yes," I said.

"Yes?"

"Yes, you idiot."

She smiled a real smile, wide and warm. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." I stepped closer, close enough that our foreheads almost touched. "You look really good in a tuxedo, by the way."

She blushed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I traced my finger down the lapel of her jacket. "Like, really good. I might have to take you somewhere so everyone can see."

"Where?"

"I'm hungry. Take me to get food."

"Now?"

"Now. Prom is boring. And I'd rather be with you."

She looked around the gymnasium at the couples swaying, the parents chaperoning, the DJ packing up his equipment.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

The local diner was almost empty.

We sat in a booth near the window, the vinyl seats cracked, the jukebox playing something old. Y/N ordered coffee. I ordered a milkshake. We shared a plate of fries.

"You didn't eat at prom?" she asked.

"I wasn't hungry."

"Because of me?"

"Because of me." I dipped a fry in ketchup. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I almost didn't."

"What changed?"

She looked at me. "I realized I'd rather be embarrassed in front of everyone than spend the rest of my life wondering what if."

I set down my fry. "That's really romantic."

"It's really stupid."

"It's both." I reached across the table and took her hand. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

We sat there, holding hands, the jukebox switching to something slow.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I meant what I said. On the dance floor. I want to try again. For real this time. No fake. No rules. Just us."

She squeezed my fingers. "No rules?"

"Well. Maybe one rule."

"What's that?"

"No more sleeping in your car."

She laughed a real laugh, loud enough that the waitress looked over.

"Deal," she said.

I drove home. Y/N followed in her car.

I parked in my driveway. She parked at the curb.

We stood on my front porch, the moon overhead, the stars scattered across the sky.

"Thank you," I said. "For tonight."

"Thank you for dancing with me."

I stepped closer. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

She didn't answer. She just leaned in.

Her lips were soft. Warm. She tasted like coffee. Her hand cupped my face, gentle this time, nothing like the way I'd pushed her away.

I kissed her back.

When we pulled apart, a hair stran came out. I fixed it.

"Stay," I said.

"Manon—"

"Stay. My mom's somewhere else tonight. My room is warm. You don't have to sleep alone tonight."

She looked at my front door. At her car. At me.

"Okay," she said.

I smiled. "Okay."

I unlocked the door and pulled her inside.

The house was dark. Quiet. We crept upstairs, past my mom's room, past the guest bathroom, to my bedroom.

I closed the door. Locked it.

Y/N stood in the middle of my room, still in her tuxedo, looking lost.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked.

"I've never been more sure about anything."

I walked over to her and unbuttoned her jacket. Slow. Deliberate. She watched my hands.

"You're shaking," I said.

"I'm nervous."

"Don't be."

I pushed the jacket off her shoulders. It fell to the floor.

Then I took her hand and led her to my bed.

𝓨/𝓝 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

Manon led me to her bed, her hand warm in mine. The room was dimly lit, her desk lamp casting a soft glow. I sat down on the edge of the mattress, my heart pounding in my chest. She stood in front of me, her eyes searching mine.

"Are you sure about this, Manon?" I asked, I was nervous, but I was also ready. Ready to be with her, really with her, no more fake girlfriends or boundaries.

Manon reached out and touched my face, her thumb brushing against my cheek. "You're so beautiful," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

I blushed at her words, looking down at my hands. "I'm not used to hearing that," I admitted.

She tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet her gaze. "Well, you should be. Because it's true."

She leaned down and kissed me, her lips soft and gentle. I kissed her back, my hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer. She deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring my mouth, her hands tangling in my hair.

I stood up, pressing my body against hers, my hands roaming over her back, her hips, her ass. She moaned into my mouth, her hands moving to my chest, unbuttoning my shirt, her fingers brushing against my nipples.

She kissed me again, her hands moving to my belt, unbuckling it, her fingers brushing against my skin. I moaned into her mouth, my hands moving to her shirt, pulling it off, revealing her breasts in a lacy bra.

I broke the kiss, looking down at her body, my eyes filled with desire. "You're so beautiful," I said, my voice hoarse.

She smiled, her hands moving to her bra, unhooking it, letting it fall to the floor. I reached out, touching her breasts, feeling their weight in my hands, my thumbs brushing against her nipples.

She moaned, her head falling back, her hair cascading down her back. I leaned down, taking one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking on it, my tongue swirling around it. She gasped, her hands moving to my hair, holding me against her.

I moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention, my hands roaming over her body, feeling her curves, her soft skin. She moaned again, her body pressing against mine, her hands moving to my pants, unbuttoning them, pushing them down my legs.

I stepped out of my pants, standing in front of her in my boxers, my erection straining against the fabric. She looked at me, her eyes filled with desire, her hands moving to my boxers, pushing them down, freeing my cock.

She looked at it, then back at me, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're big," she said.

I blushed, looking down at my cock. "Is that a problem?"

"No," she said, her voice filled with desire. "Not at all."

She reached out, wrapping her hand around my cock, her thumb brushing against the head, spreading the pre-cum that had leaked out. I moaned, my hips jerking forward, my hands moving to her shoulders, steadying myself.

She stroked me, her hand moving up and down my shaft, her thumb brushing against the head with each stroke. I watched her hand, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my body tensing with each stroke.

"Manon," I warned, my voice ragged. "I'm going to cum if you keep doing that."

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with desire. "That's the point," she said, her voice husky.

I came with a groan, my cock pulsing in her hand, my body tensing, my eyes closing. She kept stroking me, milking me, her hand covered in my cum.

When I opened my eyes, she was looking at me, a satisfied smile on her face. "That was hot," she said.

I smiled, pulling her into a kiss. "It was," I agreed. "But it's your turn now."

I pushed her back onto the bed, her body bouncing on the mattress. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with desire, her legs falling open, inviting me in.

I crawled onto the bed, my body covering hers, my hands moving to her panties, pushing them down her legs, throwing them onto the floor. She was bare beneath me, her pussy wet and ready.

I kissed her, my tongue exploring her mouth, my hands roaming over her body, feeling her curves, her soft skin. She moaned into my mouth, her hands moving to my hair, holding me against her.

I broke the kiss, my mouth moving to her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, my tongue swirling around her nipples, making her gasp. I moved down her body, my tongue trailing a path down her stomach, her hips, her thighs.

I stopped at the juncture of her thighs, looking up at her, my breath hot on her pussy. "Can I taste you?" I asked, my voice filled with desire.

She nodded, her eyes filled with desire. "Yes," she whispered. "Please."

I leaned down, my tongue flicking out, licking her pussy, tasting her wetness. She moaned, her hips jerking forward, her hands moving to my hair, holding me against her.

I licked her again, my tongue moving up and down her slit, feeling her wetness, tasting her. She moaned again, her body tensing, her hands pulling at my hair.

I found her clit, my tongue swirling around it, my fingers moving to her entrance, pushing inside her, feeling her tightness. She gasped, her body tensing, her hips moving against my mouth.

I kept licking her, my fingers moving in and out of her, my tongue swirling around her clit, feeling her body tense, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was close, I could feel it, her body tensing, her hands pulling at my hair.

"Y/N," she gasped, her body tensing. "I'm going to come."

I kept licking her, my fingers moving faster, my tongue swirling around her clit, feeling her body tense, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She came with a cry, her body tensing, her pussy pulsing around my fingers, her hands pulling at my hair.

I kept licking her, my fingers moving slowly in and out of her, my tongue swirling around her clit, feeling her body relax, her breath coming in slow gasps. When I looked up, she was looking at me, a satisfied smile on her face.

"That was amazing," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, crawling up her body, my hands moving to her face, kissing her gently. "It was," I agreed. "But it's not over yet."

She looked at me, surprise and desire in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

I reached into my pants pocket, pulling out a condom. "I mean," I said, my voice filled with desire, "that I'm going to fuck you now."

Her eyes widened, her breath hitching in her throat. "Yes," she said, her voice filled with desire. "Please."

I rolled the condom onto my cock. I positioned myself at her entrance, looking down at her, my eyes filled with desire.

"Are you ready?" I asked, my voice filled with desire.

She nodded, her eyes filled with desire. "Yes," she said. "I'm ready."

I pushed inside her, feeling her tightness, her wetness, her body welcoming me. She gasped, her body tensing, her hands moving to my hips, holding me against her.

I started moving, my hips thrusting forward, my cock moving in and out of her, feeling her tightness, her wetness, her body welcoming me. She moaned, her hips moving against mine, her hands moving to my back, holding me against her.

I kept thrusting, my body moving in rhythm with hers, my hands moving to her breasts, feeling their weight, their softness. She moaned again, her body tensing, her hands moving to my hair, holding me against her.

I felt her body tense, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her pussy pulsing around my cock. She was close, I could feel it, her body tensing, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Y/N," she gasped, her body tensing. "I'm going to come."

I kept thrusting, my body moving in rhythm with hers, my hands moving to her clit, rubbing it, feeling her body tense, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She came with a cry, her body tensing, her pussy pulsing around my cock, her hands pulling at my hair.

I kept thrusting, my body moving in rhythm with hers, feeling her body relax, her breath coming in slow gasps. I was close, I could feel it, my body tensing, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Manon," I gasped, my body tensing. "I'm going to come."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with desire. "Cum baby me," she said, her voice filled with desire.

I came with a groan, my cock pulsing inside her, my body tensing, my eyes closing. I kept thrusting, my body moving in rhythm with hers, feeling her body relax, her breath coming in slow gasps.

When I opened my eyes, she was looking at me, a satisfied smile on her face. "That was amazing," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, pulling out of her, disposing of the condom, and crawling back into bed with her. "It was," I agreed, pulling her into my arms, her body fitting perfectly against mine. "But it doesn't have to be over yet."

She looked at me, surprise and desire in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

I kissed her gently, my hands roaming over her body, feeling her curves, her soft skin. "I mean," I said, my voice filled with desire, "that I want to do that again. And again. And again."

She smiled, her eyes filled with desire. "I like the sound of that," she said, her voice filled with desire.

And so we did, our bodies moving in rhythm, our hands exploring each other, our mouths tasting each other, our hearts beating as one. We made love all night, our bodies tangled together, our hearts connected, our love for each other growing with each touch, each kiss, each thrust.

And when the sun came up, we fell asleep in each other's arms, our bodies satisfied, our hearts content, our love for each other stronger than ever.

How I felt after playing in yall faces and giving yall a reward.

Taglist:@404cantfindizzie@nightmanon@rlotpuppy@lucastrans@sarahsonya78@spiderpunkmanon@iviza@jojifolklore@spiderx18@arandomperson407@xiiaann@theeintovertedgoof2109 @iamrandompersonhehe @aoeiurgnmddk@silverghost1621@r3al-l0s3r@morganismspam23@jxhjxba@scarly07@katseyeluvrrr

She posted pic with him

Does this to you

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻

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𝓖𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴!

𝓨/𝓝 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

"Okay," Asher said, grabbing a piece of paper from his nightstand. "The plan."

He clicked a pen and looked at me. "Step one. You let Manon calm down for a few days."

"A few days?"

"She was furious, Y/N. You can't just show up tomorrow and expect her to forgive you. She needs space."

I hated it. But he was right.

"Fine," I said. "How many days?"

"Three. Maybe four." He wrote DAY 1-3: WAIT on the paper. "Step two. You try to talk to her. Nothing big. Just a simple 'Can we talk?'"

"And if she says no?"

"Then step three." He underlined it. "You try again."

I sighed. "This is a terrible plan."

"It's not a plan yet. It's a framework." He set down the pen. "Look, you know Manon better than anyone. What would actually get through to her?"

I thought about it.

"Honesty," I said finally. "Not excuses. Not explanations. Just... the truth. I was scared. I pushed her away. I'm sorry."

Asher nodded. "Then that's what you say. When she's ready to hear it."

"And if she's never ready?"

He looked at me. "Then you live with it. But at least you tried."

Three Days Later

I waited.

Three days of sleeping on Asher's couch. Three days of avoiding Manon at school different hallways, different exits, different lunch periods. Three days of watching her from across the cafeteria, her back turned to me, laughing with the girls like nothing was wrong.

Like I didn't exist.

On the fourth day, I couldn't wait anymore.

I found her by her locker after school. She was alone, shoving books into her bag.

"Manon."

She didn't look up.

"Manon, please. Can we just talk?"

She slammed her locker shut and finally looked at me. Her eyes were cold.

"No."

"Just five minutes—"

"I said no." She slung her bag over her shoulder. "You had weeks to talk to me. You didn't. Now leave me alone."

She walked away.

I stood there, frozen, watching her disappear down the hallway.

sat at our old table. Alone. Asher was with Dani. The girls were at their usual spot across the cafeteria.

I stared at my tray and felt nothing.

Then someone sat down across from me.

Dani.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

"You look terrible."

"Thanks."

She leaned forward. "We need to talk."

I looked up. Behind her, Lara, Sophia, Yoonchae, and Megan were hovering by the table, watching.

"About what?" I asked.

"About you and Manon." Dani glanced back at the girls, then at me. "She's miserable, Y/N. She won't admit it, but she is. And so are you."

"I tried to talk to her. She shut me down."

"I know." Dani nodded. "That's why we came up with a different plan."

I blinked. "You did?"

Lara slid into the seat next to Dani. "We've been watching you both. The way you look at her. The way she looks at you when she thinks no one's watching."

"She's hurt," Sophia added, sitting down. "But she's also stubborn. She's not going to just forgive you because you ask nicely."

"So what do I do?"

The girls exchanged glances.

Megan stepped forward, hands on her hips. "We make her jealous."

I stared at her. "What?"

"Jealous. Envious. Green-eyed monster." She grinned. "You show up to the pre-prom party with someone else. Someone she doesn't expect. And you act like you're having the time of your life."

"That's insane."

"It's strategy." Megan sat down. "Manon's biggest fear isn't that you hurt her. It's that you'll move on. That you'll find someone better. Someone who isn't her."

"She doesn't think I'm better than anyone."

"She thinks you're the best," Yoonchae said quietly. "That's why she's so angry."

I looked around the table. At Dani's serious expression. At Lara's nod. At Sophia's small smile. At Yoonchae's steady eyes.

"You want me to make her jealous," I said slowly. "At the pre-prom party."

"Just enough to get her to talk to you," Dani said. "Not to hurt her. Just to remind her what she's missing."

"And who am I supposed to show up with?"

Megan raised her hand. "Me."

I choked. "You?"

"Unless you want to ask Asher." She shrugged. "But I'm more convincing."

I looked at Dani. "You're okay with this?"

Dani laughed. "Megan's been trying to get me to set her up with someone for months. She's not going to steal your girl."

"Unless your girl wants to be stolen," Megan added. "But I don't think that's a problem."

I stared at the table.

Make Manon jealous.

It felt wrong. Manipulative. Like something Matt would do.

But nothing else was working.

"Okay," I said. "What's the plan?"

Megan grinned. "Now you're talking."

The party was at Lara's house. Big backyard, string lights, a DJ booth that Orlando wasn't allowed to touch. Everyone from school was there the popular crowd, the weird kids, everyone in between.

I stood at the edge of the party in a black button-down and jeans, my hair loose, my glasses swapped for contacts. Megan was beside me in a silver dress that caught the lights.

"You look nervous," she said.

"I am nervous."

"Don't be. Just follow my lead." She looped her arm through mine. "And whatever you do, don't look at Manon."

I looked at Manon.

She was across the yard, talking to Sophia, her back to me. She was wearing a blue dress—simple, elegant, the kind of dress that made everyone else disappear.

"Stop staring," Megan hissed.

"I can't help it."

"Well, try." She pulled me toward the drink table. "We need to be seen. Laugh at something I say."

"What did you say?"

"I said your shoes are ugly."

"They're not—"

"Laugh, Y/N."

I laughed—fake, loud, awkward. Megan laughed too, tossing her hair back.

People looked.

Mission accomplished.

The night went on.

Megan and I danced not close, but close enough. She whispered things in my ear that were supposed to look intimate but were actually just instructions. Turn left. Smile. No, don't look at her.

I tried not to look at Manon.

I failed.

The first time I glanced her way, she was talking to Lara. Her jaw was tight.

The second time, she was alone, staring at her phone. Her jaw was tighter.

The third time—

She was walking toward us.

Megan saw her coming. "Here we go," she murmured. "Play along."

Manon stopped in front of us. Her eyes were dark. Her hands were fists at her sides.

"Megan," she said. "Can I borrow Y/N for a minute?"

Megan raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. Can you?"

Manon's jaw twitched. She didn't answer. She just looked at me.

"It's fine," I said. "I'll be right back."

Megan squeezed my arm. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Then she walked away.

Manon grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind the garage, away from the lights, away from the music, away from everyone.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded.

"What?"

"This." She gestured back toward the party. "You and Megan. All night. Laughing. Touching. Dancing." Her voice cracked. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"Yes," I said.

She blinked. "What?"

"Yes, I was trying to make you jealous." I stepped closer. "Because you wouldn't talk to me. Because you shut me down at your locker. Because I've been trying to apologize for days and you won't even look at me."

"Y/N—"

"No." I held up a hand. "You got to yell at me in the parking lot. Now it's my turn."

She crossed her arms but didn't walk away.

"I was scared," I said. "I was ashamed. I didn't know how to let you in because no one has ever wanted to stay. My family doesn't. Matt definitely doesn't." My voice shook. "I've been alone my whole life, Manon. And then you showed up. And you were mean, and you called me Frankenstein, but then you changed. You started texting me. You climbed through my window. You kissed me in front of everyone."

She flinched at the memory.

"I didn't know what to do with that," I continued. "So I panicked. I pushed you away. And I'm sorry. I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking for a chance. One chance to do this right. No fake. No performance. Just you and me."

I reached for her hand.

She pulled back.

"Don't," she said.

"Manon—"

"I said don't." Her voice was shaking. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to ignore me for weeks, make me feel like I'm crazy for caring about you, and then show up with Megan and expect me to fall into your arms."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Then what are you doing?" She pushed my chest not hard, but enough to make me step back. "You're manipulating me. You're trying to make me jealous so I'll talk to you. That's not love, Y/N. That's control."

"It's not—"

"Stop." She pushed me again. Harder this time. "Just stop."

I reached for her wrist. "Manon, please—"

She yanked her arm back. Hard.

Her hand caught my face.

Not a punch. Not a slap. A shove that connected with my cheek, more accident than intention. But it stung. My head snapped sideways.

We both froze.

Manon's eyes went wide. She looked at her hand, then at me.

"Y/N—I didn't—"

"It's fine," I said quietly.

"It's not fine." Her voice cracked. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know."

She stared at me. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered.

Then she turned and walked away.

I stood there, alone behind the garage, touching my cheek where her hand had been.

She didn't look back.

𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

I sat on my bed, staring at the wall.

My room was dark except for the glow of my phone screen.

I'd been crying for an hour.

Not because of the fight. Not because of Y/N and Megan.

Because I'd hit her.

Accident or not, my hand had connected with her face. And the look she gave me—not anger, not pain, just acceptance was worse than anything.

She's used to people hurting her.

And now I'm one of them.

A knock on my door.

"Go away," I said.

The door opened anyway.

Dani walked in. Behind her, Lara, Sophia, Yoonchae, and Megan filed into my room.

I sat up. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We came to check on you," Dani said.

"I didn't ask you to."

"You never do." Lara sat on my bed. "That's why we came anyway."

Megan stood near the door, arms crossed. She looked uncomfortable.

"What?" I snapped.

"Y/N didn't want to do it," Megan said.

"Do what?"

"The plan." Megan glanced at the others. "The jealousy thing. It was our idea. Hers and Asher's. We told her to make you jealous so you'd talk to her."

I stared at her.

"She didn't want to," Megan continued. "She said it felt wrong. Manipulative. Like something Matt would do." She paused. "But she was desperate. You wouldn't talk to her. You wouldn't even look at her. So she agreed."

"And the dancing?" My voice was cold. "The touching?"

"All me." Megan shrugged. "She barely moved. I was the one doing everything. She just stood there looking miserable."

I looked at Dani. "You knew about this?"

Dani nodded. "We all did. We thought it would work. We thought you'd get jealous and finally talk to her."

"You manipulated me."

"We tried to help." Sophia stepped forward. "Because we've seen you, Manon. You're miserable without her. And she's miserable without you. And instead of talking to each other, you're both just... suffering."

I looked down at my hands.

"I hit her," I said quietly.

The room went silent.

"What?" Dani's voice was barely a whisper.

"Behind the garage. She reached for me. I pulled away. My hand caught her face." My voice cracked. "I didn't mean to. But I did."

No one spoke.

"I'm no better than Matt," I said. "I hurt her. Just like he does."

"That's not true," Yoonchae said.

"It is."

"It's not." Yoonchae sat on the edge of my bed. "Matt hurts her on purpose. You made a mistake. There's a difference."

I shook my head.

"Manon." Dani grabbed my hands. "You're not a monster. You're scared and hurt and you made a mistake. But Y/N has been hurt by so many people. Don't be another one."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Talk to her," Lara said. "For real. Not yelling. Not accusations. Just talk."

"She won't want to see me."

"You don't know that."

"I pushed her away. I hit her." I pulled my hands free. "She's better off without me."

Megan stepped forward. "That's not your decision to make."

I looked at her.

"Y/N is a lost cause," I said. "She's been through too much. She's never going to trust anyone. And I'm just going to keep hurting her."

"She's not a lost cause," Sophia said firmly. "And neither are you."

"You don't know that."

"Then at least be civil." Dani's voice was soft but steady. "You don't have to date her. You don't have to forgive her. But you share the same school, the same friends, the same town. You can't avoid her forever. So at least be civil."

I stared at the wall.

"Think about it," Lara said, standing up. "We'll leave you alone."

The girls filed out one by one. Megan paused at the door.

"She really does like you, you know," she said. "Y/N. She's just terrible at showing it."

Then she closed the door.

I lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling.

At least be civil.

I didn't know if I could do that.

But I knew I couldn't keep going like this.

Prom night next chapter

a lot going on in this chapter and i'm sorry for playing in yall's face.

Taglist:@404cantfindizzie@nightmanon@rlotpuppy@lucastrans@sarahsonya78@spiderpunkmanon@iviza@jojifolklore@spiderx18@arandomperson407@xiiaann@theeintovertedgoof2109 @iamrandompersonhehe @aoeiurgnmddk@silverghost1621@r3al-l0s3r@morganismspam23@jxhjxba@scarly07@katseyeluvrrr

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻

Prev - main - next

𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷

𝓨/𝓝 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

A few months had passed.

Winter melted into spring. The rain stopped. The days got longer. And somehow, impossibly, Manon and I had fooled everyone.

The whole school thought we were together.

We held hands in the hallways. Sat together at lunch. Walked to each other's classes. She'd lean her head on my shoulder during study hall. I'd bring her coffee before first period.

It was convincing.

Because it wasn't entirely fake.

Not for me.

Somewhere between February and March, the feelings I'd agreed not to have snuck in like a thief. Quiet. Uninvited. Impossible to ignore.

I watched her laugh with the girls and felt my chest tighten. She'd text me goodnight and I'd reread the message three times. When she climbed through my window which happened more often than either of us admitted I had to stop myself from reaching for her in the dark.

The rules said no real feelings.

I'd broken every single one.

April arrived with pink blossoms on the trees and a restlessness I couldn't shake.

"So what colleges have gotten back to you?" I asked Asher.

We were standing in the middle of a craft store, surrounded by glitter and poster board and things I'd never touched before in my life. Asher was holding a stencil that said PROM? in bubble letters.

He looked up, distracted. "Ah, shit, man. Bama. Um, some South Carolina schools. And Penn State. And Virginia."

"That's like five schools."

"Six. I forgot about Appalachian State."

"You applied to Appalachian State?"

"Mountains, dude. Good wrestling program." He set down the stencil and picked up a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars. "What about you?"

I grabbed a roll of ribbon. "A few film schools. USC emailed me back. Want my portfolio."

"Asher's jaw dropped. "USC? Like, the USC?"

"Like the one in Los Angeles, yeah."

"Dude. That's insane."

"It's not guaranteed. I still have to submit everything." I shrugged, trying to look casual. "We'll see."

He studied me for a second. "You're nervous."

"I'm always nervous."

"No, this is different." He set down the stars. "What's going on with you? You've been weird lately."

I hadn't told him. About the feelings. About the way I lay awake at night staring at my ceiling, trying to convince myself that fake dating was enough.

"I'm fine," I said. "Just stressed."

"About Manon?"

I looked at him. "How did you—"

"Because I'm not blind, Y/N." His voice was gentle. "You look at her like I look at Dani."

I swallowed. "It's against the rules."

"Rules are stupid."

"She doesn't feel the same way."

"You don't know that."

I didn't have an answer.

Asher put a hand on my shoulder. "Just talk to her. Before it eats you alive."

I nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

We finished shopping in silence.

I dropped Asher off at his place and drove home.

The house was quiet when I walked in too quiet. No TV. No voices. No smell of food.

Maybe no one's here.

I kicked off my shoes and headed for the stairs.

I made it three steps before Matt walked out of the kitchen.

He was alone. No friends. No phone. Just him and me and the empty house.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

I kept walking. "Out."

"With Manon?"

"No. With Asher."

He moved to block the stairs. "You're pathetic, you know that? Parading around with her. Pretending you're something you're not."

"Move, Matt."

"You think she actually likes you?" He stepped closer. "She's using you. Everyone knows it. The only reason she's with you is to get back at me."

I looked him in the eye. "Maybe. But she's still a better person than you."

His face went red.

He shoved me hard. I stumbled back, caught myself on the banister.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," he said.

"Get out of my way."

"No."

I tried to push past him. He grabbed my arm. I twisted free. He grabbed me again.

And then I wasn't thinking anymore.

I swung.

My fist connected with his jaw. His head snapped sideways. Blood welled up on his lip.

"You bitch—" He lunged.

We crashed into the wall. His fist hit my ribs. I kneed his stomach. He punched my shoulder. I clawed at his face.

"Stop!" I screamed. "Stop it!"

"Make me!"

We tumbled to the floor. I was on top of him, hitting wherever I could reach. He threw me off. I slammed into the coffee table. Glass shattered.

I got up anyway.

I swung again.

And again.

And again.

I didn't know if I was winning or losing. I didn't care. I just wanted him to feel what I'd felt for years. Every punch. Every shove. Every time my parents looked the other way.

Stay away from her.

You're nothing.

You should've been sent away.

I screamed. I don't remember what I said. Just noise. Rage. Everything I'd swallowed for so long pouring out of me like poison.

Then hands were pulling me back.

Harley. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. "Y/N, stop! Please!"

Matt's shirt was torn. His nose was bleeding. He was breathing hard, held back by Christian, who looked like he'd just woken up.

And behind them Darren.

My father stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, face cold.

"Get off her," he said to Harley.

Harley didn't let go.

"Let go of me," I said. My voice was hoarse. My knuckles were split open.

"Y/N—"

"Let go."

Harley released me.

I looked at my father. At my mother, who was standing in the kitchen doorway, dish towel in hand, face unreadable. At Christian, who wouldn't meet my eyes. At Ayden, hovering behind them, scared.

At Matt, bleeding and glaring.

"You want to know what's wrong with me?" I said. My voice was shaking. I didn't care.

No one answered.

"You want to know why I'm so 'troubled'? Why I'm such a 'problem'?" I laughed bitter, broken. "Because of you. All of you. You've treated me like garbage my whole life. Like I was a mistake you couldn't get rid of."

"That's not—" my mother started.

"Don't." I pointed at her. "You never stood up for me. Not once. When Matt hit me, you looked away. When Dad called me a failure, you were silent. When I needed you when I was assaulted and nobody believed me you didn't say a word."

Her face crumpled. She didn't deny it.

I turned to Darren. "And you. You're supposed to be my father. You're supposed to protect me. Instead, you blamed me for everything. You made me feel like I deserved it."

Darren's jaw tightened. "You brought this on yourself."

"Brought this on myself?" I took a step toward him. Harley grabbed my arm. I shook her off. "I was a kid. I was born different and you made me feel like it was my fault. You let Matt beat me. You let everyone treat me like I was nothing. And now you stand there and tell me I brought it on myself?"

The room was silent.

"I'm done," I said. "I'm leaving. And none of you none of you are ever going to contact me again."

"Y/N—" Harley's voice cracked.

I looked at her. My little sister. The only one who'd ever saved me food, who'd slipped notes under my door, who'd tried to stop me from fighting Matt even when she was scared.

"Harley." My voice softened. "I love you. But I have to go my own way."

Tears streamed down her face. "Please don't—"

"I'll be okay." I touched her cheek. "I'll find you when I can. But I can't stay here. Not anymore."

I turned and walked upstairs.

Behind me, no one spoke.

I drove for hours.

No destination. Just... away. Through town, past the school, past the fairgrounds, past the highway on-ramp I'd never taken before.

The gas light came on around midnight.

I pulled into a rest stop, killed the engine, and sat in the dark.

My phone buzzed. Manon's name lit up the screen.

Manon: hey. you okay?

I stared at the message.

I couldn't tell her. Not yet. Not like this.

Me: yeah. just tired. talk tomorrow.

Manon: okay. goodnight y/n.

Me: goodnight.

I turned off my phone.

I climbed into the back seat, using my duffel as a pillow. The car was cold. The parking lot was empty. The stars were out, but I couldn't see them through the fogged-up windows.

I cried until I couldn't cry anymore.

Then I slept.

The next morning, I woke up stiff and sore.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. Blood crusted on my arm. A bruise forming on my jaw. Dark circles under my eyes.

I cleaned up in the rest stop bathroom. Splashed cold water on my face. Fixed my hair. Put on a clean hoodie.

Then I got back in my car and drove to school.

I walked through the front doors like nothing had happened.

Manon was waiting by my locker. She smiled when she saw me.

"Hey, you."

"Hey."

She tilted her head. "You look tired."

"Didn't sleep well."

She takes a deep look at me but couldn't see anything. "Okay well let's get to class."

𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

Something was wrong.

I noticed it the first day the way Y/N smiled too quickly, laughed at things that weren't funny, held my hand like she was the one who needed comforting.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Fine," she said. "Didn't sleep well."

Her knuckles were scraped. She'd covered them with a bandage, but I saw.

"Y/N—"

"Manon. I'm fine."

She walked ahead of me to class.

The second day was worse.

She was quieter. Her eyes kept drifting to nothing. At lunch, she barely ate. Asher asked her something, and she stared at him for three full seconds before answering.

Dani noticed. "Is Y/N okay?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Have you asked her?"

"She says she's fine."

Dani gave me a look. You know that's not true.

I knew.

By the end of the week, I couldn't take it anymore.

I pulled Y/N aside after school, outside the gymnasium, away from everyone.

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't say nothing. You've been weird all week. Your knuckles are bruised. You flinch every time someone touches you." I stepped closer. "Talk to me."

She wouldn't look at me. "It's not your problem."

"We're friends," I said. "Friends talk to each other."

Y/N finally looked at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed, like she hadn't been sleeping.

"I can't," she said. "Not yet."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Y/N—"

"I said I don't know!" She pulled away from me. "Just drop it, Manon. Please."

She walked toward her car. I didn't follow.

The next day, she sat somewhere else at lunch.

Not at our table. Not with Asher. At a table by herself, near the back, like she used to before everything.

I stared at her across the cafeteria.

"What's happening?" Dani asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"Aren't you going to talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to talk."

Asher stood up. "I'll go—"

"No." I grabbed his arm. "Let her be. If she wants to talk, she'll come to us."

But she didn't.

Days turned into weeks.

We didn't talk.

I saw her in the hallway, and she looked away. I texted her, and she left me on read. I waited by her locker, and she took another route to class.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. Like the girl who climbed through my window, who held my hand in the dark, who kissed me in front of everyone she was gone.

And I didn't know why.

"Maybe you should give her space," Sophia said.

"I've given her space. It's been two weeks."

"Then maybe she needs more."

I didn't want to give her more. I wanted to shake her. I wanted to scream.

Three weeks after the fight I didn't know about, I found Harley.

It was after school. I was walking to my car when I heard someone crying not the quiet kind, the kind that comes from somewhere deep.

I followed the sound.

Under the bleachers, curled into a small ball, was Harley.

Her mascara was streaked down her face. Her phone was on the ground next to her, screen cracked.

"Harley?" I knelt down. "What happened?"

She looked up at me, and her face crumpled. "Wade broke up with me."

"Oh, honey." I sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. She cried into my shoulder, her whole body shaking.

"He said I was too young," she sobbed. "Too immature. He said he needed someone who understood him."

"Wade's an idiot."

"He said he never loved me."

"Then he's a liar and an idiot."

She laughed through her tears a wet, broken sound. "You really think so?"

"I know so." I pulled back and wiped her face with my sleeve. "You're worth ten of him, Harley. He did you a favor."

She sniffled. "You really believe that?"

"I do."

She looked at me for a long moment. Then her expression shifted something softer, sadder.

"Manon?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Why aren't you talking to Y/N anymore?"

The question hit me like cold water.

"We're just... taking a break," I said carefully. "She's been going through something. She doesn't want to talk about it."

Harley's eyes filled with tears again. "It's my fault."

"What? No, it's not—"

"It is." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "The night she left. I should have stopped her. I should have tried harder."

My heart stopped.

"What night she left?"

Harley stared at me. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

She took a shaky breath. "The night Y/N moved out. She got into a fight with Matt. A bad one. They were hitting each other. Everyone came downstairs. Dad pulled them apart. And then Y/N—" Harley's voice cracked. "She screamed at all of them. At Mom and Dad and Matt. She told them she was done. That she was leaving and never coming back."

I couldn't breathe.

"She packed her bags that night," Harley continued. "I tried to stop her. She said she had to go her own way. She said she'd find me when she could." Tears streamed down her face. "And then she left. She's been sleeping in her car. I know because I saw her one morning, fixing her hair in the rearview mirror."

I thought about Y/N's tired eyes. Her scraped knuckles. The way she flinched when someone touched her.

The way she'd said I can't when I asked her to talk.

She was homeless.

She'd been sleeping in her car for three weeks, and she didn't tell anyone.

"Why didn't she tell me?" I whispered.

Harley shook her head. "Because she's Y/N. She doesn't think anyone cares."

"That's not true."

"I know." Harley looked at me. "But she doesn't."

I stood up.

"Where are you going?" Harley asked.

"To find her."

𝓨/𝓝 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

I was sitting in my car.

The same car I'd been living in for three weeks. The same seat I'd slept in, curled up like a question mark, waking every hour to check if anyone had found me.

Not just from sleeping in the car. From everything. From the fight. From Matt's fists. From the way my mother looked at me like I was a stranger. From the way Harley cried when I walked out the door.

From Manon.

The way she looked at me now hurt, confused, desperate. The way I'd flinched when she touched me. The way I'd pulled away.

I trust you more than anyone. That's why I can't tell you.

I'd meant it.

But I also knew it was a lie.

I couldn't tell her because I was ashamed. Ashamed that my family had fallen apart. Ashamed that I had nowhere to go. Ashamed that I'd been sleeping in my car like some runaway, like the troubled kid everyone always said I was.

What if she agrees with them?

What if she looks at me and sees what everyone else sees?

What if she leaves too?

I couldn't survive that.

So I pushed her away.

And now I was alone.

From Manon.

A knock on the window.

I jerked up, heart pounding.

Manon was standing outside my car.

"open the door y/n."

I unlocked it.

She yanked it open and climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her. The car shook.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Her voice was loud, sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Everyone is speculating that we're done. People keep asking me if I hurt you, if you hurt me, if we ever even liked each other in the first place."

I opened my mouth. She wasn't done.

"And then I find out from your sister not from you, from your fourteen-year-old sister—that you've been homeless for three weeks? That you've been sleeping in this car?" She gestured wildly at the back seat, at the bags, at the blanket crumpled on the floor. "What the actual hell, Y/N?"

"I didn't want you to worry—"

"Don't." She pointed at me. "Don't you dare give me that. I've been worried sick. I thought I did something wrong. I thought you were pulling away because you didn't want me anymore. And all this time, you were living in your car and lying to my face."

"I never lied."

"You lied every single day. Every time I asked if you were okay and you said 'fine.' Every time I tried to hold your hand and you pulled away. Every time you looked at me with those tired eyes and told me nothing was wrong." Her voice cracked. "That's lying, Y/N. And I'm so tired of it."

I stared at the steering wheel.

"Are you even listening to me?" she demanded.

"I'm listening."

"Then say something. Fight back. Scream at me. Anything." She threw her hands up. "Stop sitting there like a ghost and talk to me."

I looked at her.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were wet. Her hands were shaking.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked.

"I want you to tell me the truth. The whole truth. Why didn't you come to me? Why did you push me away? Why am I finding out about this from Harley and not from you?"

I took a breath.

"Because I'm ashamed."

She blinked. "Ashamed?"

"Ashamed that my family fell apart. Ashamed that I have nowhere to go. Ashamed that I've been sleeping in my car like some runaway, like the troubled kid everyone always said I was." My voice was quiet, but it didn't shake. "And I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared that you'd look at me and see what everyone else sees. Scared that you'd realize I'm not worth the effort. Scared that you'd leave." I finally looked at her. "So I left first. I pushed you away so I wouldn't have to watch you walk."

She stared at me.

The silence stretched.

"Y/N," she said slowly, "I have been here. Every day. I have held your hand, kissed you in front of everyone, defended you to Matt, to my friends, to anyone who asked. I climbed through your window at eleven o'clock at night because I was bored and I wanted to be near you." Her voice broke. "What else do I have to do to prove that I'm not going anywhere?"

"I don't know."

"Well, figure it out." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Because I can't keep doing this. I can't keep reaching for you and finding nothing. I can't keep being the only one trying."

"That's not fair."

"None of this is fair." She reached for the door handle. "I'm done, Y/N. I don't want to talk to you anymore."

My heart stopped.

"Manon—"

"I said I'm done." She opened the door and got out. The cold air rushed in. "When you figure out how to let someone in, let me know. Until then, leave me alone."

She slammed the door.

I watched her walk away.

Her footsteps echoed across the parking lot. She didn't look back.

I sat there, frozen, until her taillights disappeared down the road.

Then I put my head on the steering wheel and cried.

I didn't know how I got there.

I just knew I couldn't be alone.

Asher opened his door in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair messy, like he'd been about to go to bed. His expression shifted when he saw my face.

"Y/N? What happened?"

I walked past him into his living room. His dad was asleep upstairs. The house was quiet.

"I ruined everything," I said.

"What? What are you talking about?"

I sat down on his couch. He sat next to me.

And I told him. Everything.

The fight with Matt. Walking out. Sleeping in the car. The weeks of avoiding Manon. The way she showed up tonight, screaming at me. The way she said she was done.

Asher listened. He didn't interrupt. He didn't ask questions.

When I finished, I was crying again.

"I lost her," I said. "And it's my fault. I pushed her away because I was scared, and now she's gone."

Asher was quiet for a long moment.

Then he sighed.

"Okay," he said. "I'm gonna say something, and you're not gonna like it."

"What?"

"You need to man up."

I blinked. "What?"

"Man up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop hiding in your car like a wounded animal." He turned to face me fully. "You want Manon? Go get her."

"Asher—"

"No. Listen to me." His voice was firm. "You've been through hell. Your family is garbage. Matt is a monster. And yeah, you've been dealt a really shitty hand. But you're not a victim, Y/N. Not anymore. You're the girl who stood up to Matt. You're the girl who wrote a whole screenplay in her bedroom. You're the girl who made Manon Bannerman fall for you."

"She doesn't—"

"She does." He grabbed my shoulders. "You think she showed up at your car because she doesn't care? You think she yelled at you because she's done? She yelled because she loves you, you idiot. And she's tired of you not believing it."

I stared at him.

"Stop pretending this is fake," he said. "Stop hiding behind rules and fear and whatever else is holding you back. Ask her out. For real. Date her for real. Show her that you're all in." He let go of my shoulders. "Because if you don't, someone else will. And you'll spend the rest of your life wondering what if."

I wiped my face.

"You really think I can fix this?"

"I know you can." He leaned back. "But you have to actually do something. Not sit in your car and cry. Not write about it in your journal. Go to her house. Talk to her. Tell her everything you just told me. And then ask her on a real date. No fake. No performance. Just you and her."

I took a shaky breath.

"What if she says no?"

"Then at least you tried." He shrugged. "But she's not going to say no."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've seen the way she looks at you when you're not watching." He smiled small, tired, but sure. "Trust me, Y/N. She's already yours. You just have to claim her."

I sat there for a moment, letting his words sink in.

"What's the plan?"

Hmmmm?? 🤔🤔🤔🤔

How you guys been???

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𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻

𝓓𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓮𝓵𝓪 𝓟𝓞𝓥:

The winter fair was everything I'd hoped for and nothing I expected.

Lights strung across every booth and tree, casting everything in warm gold. The smell of roasted nuts and hot chocolate hung in the cold air. Families laughed on the ice skating rink. A carousel played tinny music somewhere in the distance.

And Asher was a nervous wreck.

I noticed it immediately. The way he kept shoving his hands in his pockets, then pulling them out. The way he'd reach toward me, hesitate, and grab his own sleeve instead. The way he kept looking at my face, then away, then back again.

We'd been walking for ten minutes. Neither of us had touched the other.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said too quickly. "Fine. Great. Totally fine."

"You've said fine three times."

"Have I?"

I stopped walking. He stopped too, turning to face me. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, or nerves, I couldn't tell.

"Asher."

"Yeah?"

I looked at his hands. They were hanging at his sides, fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for something.

I grabbed one.

He froze.

"You're taking too long," I said.

His fingers curled around mine. Slowly. Carefully. Like I was something precious he was afraid of breaking.

"Sorry," he said. "I've just... I've wanted to do this for so long. I didn't want to mess it up."

"You're not messing it up."

He smiled small, shy, nothing like the confident wrestler I watched on the mat.

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

We started walking again. His hand was warm. Rough. Perfect.

We bought hot chocolate first the kind with whipped cream and a candy cane stirrer. Asher insisted on paying. I let him.

"Thank you," I said, wrapping both hands around the warm cup.

"Thank you for saying yes."

"To hot chocolate?"

"To this." He gestured around us the fair, the lights, the cold. "To me."

I looked at him over the rim of my cup. "Asher, I've been waiting for you to ask since the carnival."

His eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really. I thought you'd never—" I stopped.

"Never what?"

"Never make a move." I laughed. "I was starting to think I'd have to ask you."

He grinned a real grin, wide and bright. "I would've said yes."

"I know."

We walked toward the ice skating rink, hand in hand, hot chocolate warming our palms.

The rink was crowded families, couples, kids wobbling on rented skates. We found a bench and traded our boots for skates. Asher tied his laces with military precision. I fumbled with mine.

"Need help?" he asked.

"I haven't skated since I was twelve."

"It's like riding a bike."

"I don't know how to ride a bike either."

He laughed loud, genuine, the kind of laugh that made people look. He knelt down in front of me and tied my skates himself. His fingers were quick, sure.

"There," he said, looking up at me. "All set."

I stared at him. At the way the lights reflected in his eyes. At the small scar on his eyebrow from the fight with Jonah.

"Thank you," I said.

He stood up and offered me his hand.

I took it.

The ice was harder than it looked.

I stepped on, wobbled, and immediately grabbed Asher's arm with both hands.

"Whoa—"

"I've got you." He steadied me, one hand on my waist, the other holding mine. "Just look at me. Don't look down."

"I'm going to fall."

"I won't let you."

We moved slowly. Painfully slowly. A pack of middle schoolers zipped past us, laughing. I didn't care.

Asher skated backward in front of me, holding both my hands now, guiding me across the ice.

"You're doing great," he said.

"I'm doing terrible."

"You're doing great."

I almost fell twice. He caught me both times. By the third lap, I was starting to find my balance. By the fifth, I was almost having fun.

Then I saw him.

Jonah.

He was standing at the edge of the rink, arms crossed, watching us. His face was hard—jealous, angry, pathetic.

I stiffened.

Asher felt it. He followed my gaze, saw Jonah, and—

Kept skating.

Didn't flinch. Didn't glare. Didn't acknowledge him at all.

"Asher—"

"Don't." His voice was calm. "He doesn't get to ruin this."

"But—"

"He's not worth it, Dani. You're worth more than that. We're worth more than that."

I looked at Jonah one more time. He was waiting for a reaction. Waiting for us to break.

We didn't.

I turned back to Asher and smiled.

"Okay," I said.

He grinned. 

By the end of the night, I could skate without holding onto him.

Not well. But enough.

We returned our skates and walked through the fair, still hand in hand. The crowd had thinned. The lights seemed brighter somehow.

Asher won me a stuffed bear at the ring toss a small one, brown with a red bow. Not as big as Jonah's apology bear. But this one meant more.

"I'm not good at this," he said, handing it to me.

"At ring toss?"

"At... this." He gestured between us. "Talking. Feelings. I'm better at wrestling. You know where you stand on a mat."

"Where do you stand with me?"

He stopped walking. We were near the edge of the fair, away from the noise, under a string of lights.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I know I've liked you since eighth grade. I know I think about you when I'm not with you. I know that when I'm wrestling, sometimes I imagine you're watching."

"I am watching. I'm the team manager."

He laughed. "I know. That's why I'm good."

I stepped closer. "Asher."

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

He stopped.

I kissed him.

It was soft just a press of lips, barely anything. But it was real. His hand came up to my face, cupping my cheek like I was something fragile.

When I pulled back, he was smiling.

"Okay," he said. "I can work with that."

I kissed him again. Longer this time. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. The stuffed bear was squished between us.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both laughing.

"That was—" he started.

"Perfect," I finished.

He nodded. "Yeah. Perfect."

We walked back to his car hand in hand, the bear tucked under my arm, my lips still tingling.

Asher opened the passenger door for me.

"Daniela?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you said yes."

I smiled. "Me too."

He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side.

I watched him through the window and thought about how different this was. No performance. No audience. No Jonah.

Just us.

I just wanted to make this chapter.

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I may be lost. What's going on? What did you do? Is it about the girl?🤔