Chapter 20

"You..." he says calmly, the word slipping from his lips so softly it almost gets lost in the breeze.

My entire face flushes red—redder than a tomato when I realize the situation i'm in. I basically watched him sleep... and I called him cute. And then he woke up right after. Did he hear me? He didn't...right?

The wind stirs through my hair, the air thick and heavy as I struggle to look away from him. My heart is pounding so hard I swear he can hear it.

He doesn't look away either. His gaze stays locked on mine, as if he's still in a daze from his nap.

"I..." I begin, but the word catches in my throat.

"Uhm..."

My eyes won't leave his. I have no idea what to say, and the silence stretches between us, charged and fragile. Then I shift awkwardly and lose my balance, nearly falling back.

I gasp, but before I can hit the floor, his hand shoots out. He grabs my arm with swift reflexes, his grip strong and steady.

My breath stutters. His eyes widen slightly, his expression tinged with concern. His hand remains firm on my arm, holding me in place.

I hover there for a moment, heart racing—not because I almost fell, but because it would've been humiliating if I had. Slowly, I use his grip to pull myself upright, letting out a shaky breath of relief.

He sighs too, his hand lingering for a second before he abruptly lets go. His eyes drift around the roof, as if he's only now realizing where he is.

"When did I fall asleep?" he mumbles to himself, grabbing his notebook and closing it.

I snap out of my haze at the sight of the notebook.

"You're writing a new song!" I blurt before I can stop myself.

What the hell am I doing? He's already made it clear he wants nothing to do with me, and yet here I am, invading his space again. I can't stop. No matter what I do, I keep running into him—and worse, getting carried away each time. No matter what I do.

He blinks, his gaze settling on me. He's quiet for a beat, his eyes flicking down at the notebook and then back to me.

"You saw?" he asks, his voice steady. Calm.

I blink, my eyes widening despite myself. My shoulders tense as I stare down at the floor, my hands curling over my knees.

"No—I—uhm—"

He chuckles softly, cutting me off.

"Yeah, I am."

My breath hitches. That tone—it's not cold or distant like usual. He's not brushing me off or shutting down. He admitted it so casually, like it's nothing.

Since when did he... change? And why didn't I notice?

I glance down at my hands, digging my nails into my knees as I try to steady my breathing.

"I..."

I gather myself, then lift my eyes to meet his.

"I read the first lyric." I admit quietly.

I know it shouldn't hurt, knowing he's writing this song about a girl he likes. I need to swallow my pride and be happy for him—from the sidelines.

I bite my tongue, pushing down the lump in my throat as I force a smile.

"It was really good."

He seems taken aback by my words, his expression softening with something that looks almost like sympathy—and I don't need that. It's not me he needs anyway. I just want to save him so he can have a proper future with someone he likes.

I watch as his fingers tighten around the notebook, his gaze dropping to the floor like he's deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"Thanks..." he mutters under his breath, his voice low and strained, like he's forcing himself to say it.

I'm surprised. He's not being cold or dismissive like usual. This... softness is so different from his normal demeanor. What really changed in him?

I keep my fake smile plastered on my face, determined to stretch this conversation as long as I can. If he's going to let his guard down, even for a second, I'm not wasting it.

"Her name in bruises!" I exclaim with forced cheer, shifting to sit next to him properly. My legs stretch out in front of me, one crossed over the other as I lean back against the wall. I tilt my head toward him with a bright smile.

"What's the title about?"

Since he's being unusually open, I'll take full advantage of the moment.

He looks at me for a long second, his expression unreadable. Like he's weighing whether he should even answer. Then he exhales quietly, his gaze drifting forward as he lifts his head.

"It's about a girl I like." he says, calmly. Casually. Like it's not a big deal at all.

My fingers curl into the fabric of my skirt before I realize what I'm doing. I knew it was coming—but hearing him admit it so easily still knocks the air from my chest.

"Oh..." I murmur, lowering my gaze to the floor. But I don't want to sound sad. I push the lump in my throat down and swing my head back up with a bright smile.

"Who is she? Do I know her?"

It sounds silly, but part of me just doesn't want to lose him to another girl. Especially one I don't even know.

He looks a little surprised by my random enthusiasm, but he should be used to it by now. Then he grins—a small, faint grin but I notice it right away.

"Like you have any friends to know." he says, his tone cocky.

I gasp, not expecting him to say that.

"Excuse me?"

How could he just say something like that? I mean, I know it's true, but still. I didn't come here to make friends—but I can't exactly tell him that.

"Hey! Chris is my friend!" I pout, turning away with a huff. I may be a loner in terms of actual friends in this world, but Chris has to count for something.

A quiet laugh slipped from his lips behind me, and I whip my head back around.

"You're friends with my friend." he says, shaking his head in amusement.

"That changes nothing, if you ask me."

Heat rises to my cheeks. It's not my fault making friends has been hard, especially when the girls here are way meaner than i'm used to.

He glances over at me, his long lashes fluttering with each slow blink.

"But I wouldn't tell you who I like anyway." he adds, his tone almost stern—like that's the last time he plans to talk about it.

I swallow hard and give a small nod. I guess I can't push him on this. Asking again would look too suspicious.

I decide to change the subject quickly.

"Hey—tell me your favorite artists!" I blurt, a little nervously. But he doesn't seem to notice the strain in my voice.

He raises an eyebrow, confused, so I realize I might need to lead the conversation.

"I'll tell you mine." I offer, thinking for a moment as I glance at the sky.

"Oh!" I brighten, looking back at him.

"Mine are Justin Bie—"

Suddenly, I stop myself so fast it feels like the air has been knocked from my lungs. I could have ruined everything in just a second. My mouth hangs open mid-word, my eyes locked onto his.

He tilts his head slightly, brow lifting.

"Justin Bie...?"

Panic surges through me. How do I fix this? My mind races for a solution—then an idea strikes.

"Oh! He's an old indie artist!" I blurt out quickly. "You wouldn't know about him anyway."

I hold my breath, praying that was enough to cover the slip.

He stares at me like i'm some sort of maniac. Honestly, for him, that may be true. Then, after a short pause, he just nods.

"Okay..."

I exhale, relief washing over me. That was close. Way too close. Justin Bieber doesn't even exist in the industry, not yet anyway. If I'd actually said his name, it would've been a disaster. Talking about music was a terrible idea. It's not like I know any artists from this time period.

Suddenly, he checks his watch and curses under his breath.

"Crap."

He shoves his notebook into his bag, standing up and grabbing his guitar case in one smooth motion.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" I lean forward, still seated.

He's already halfway to the door when he pauses.

"Makeup exam." That's all he says.

I lean back, watching him go. It makes sense. He hasn't really been in class much lately. A small smile tugs at my lips, knowing I got through to his tough exterior, even if just a little bit.

For now, that's good enough for me.

Suddenly, he stops in his tracks out of nowhere, turning around just before the door, his hand gripping the guitar case behind his back. I stare at him from the distance, confusion clouding my thoughts.

"I'm sorry."

The words come out with a certain weight to them, as if it took a lot of courage for him to say them. I tilt my head, almost ready to ask, "For what?" but before I can, he answers without me even speaking.

"For yelling at you that day."

A flicker of shock flashes through my eyes. I didn't expect him to apologize for that, of all things. My heart starts racing, a surge of emotions rising in me, like something inside me is taking over.

"I didn't mean any of it." He adds quickly, as though the words are hard for him to get out. It's clear he's pushing past his pride to admit this.

"I was..." He trails off, his eyes darting everywhere before landing on me again. He swallows, a visible gulp.

"I was stressed."

I take a deep breath, the weight of his words settling over me. My eagerness to get closer to him, to save him from whatever it was that hurt him, had still played a small part in pushing him to the edge. I wasn't just an innocent bystander—I had pushed him, too. He was trying so hard to keep calm, and I unknowingly made him crack.

He turns to walk back toward the door, but then, just before he leaves, he looks back at me for a brief moment, his expression unreadable.

"You're still weird, though."

With that, he turns and walks out the door.

I sit there for a second, caught off guard, my mouth slightly agape. But then a smile tugs at my lips. I can't even be mad. He called me weird, sure but it took him a lot of guts to say the rest.

A soft giggle escapes me as I shake my head, feeling both relieved and a little lighter.

Then, just as I begin to settle, I hear his voice echo from the stairs inside.

"But thanks for saying i'm cute!"

My face immediately falls, turning beet-red as I pause, my gaze towards the opened door. He heard that. He actually heard me calling him cute while he slept—and he waited until now to tell me.

Embarrassment floods me. I bury my face in my knees, letting out a muffled scream.

"This is so annoying!" I shout to myself, frustration bubbling up.

.

.

.

Some days later have passed. I walk out of the school building, heading toward the parking lot to go home. I've run into Jake here and there, and while our conversations have been brief, he hasn't been as rude as before. I can't help but feel like I've made some progress with him since that day on the roof. I'll take it slow, I tell myself. I have plenty of time, right? But now that I think about it... I can't quite recall the exact date of the day he died. So really...how much time do I actually have?

The thought lingers in my mind as I walk through the parking lot. I stop by a vehicle and, almost instinctively, catch my reflection in the side mirror.

I start absently playing with my hair, admiring the way it falls.

"I look so pretty today." I murmur to myself.

I don't usually take the time to admire myself, but today feels different. I seem to be glowing, and maybe it's because, for once in a long while, I feel genuinely happy.

"Pretty ugly."

The voice catches me off guard. I freeze mid-movement and whip around. I roll my eyes when I see Chris standing there, arms crossed, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

"No one asked for your opinion." I snap, turning back to the vehicle to adjust the top of my hair in the mirror.

Chris walks closer casually, placing a hand on the vehicle with that trademark cocky attitude of his.

"Someone has to keep you humble." he says, leaning in just a little. "Lucky for you, I'm always around."

I shoot him a sidelong glance, but I don't rise to the bait. Instead, I place my hand on my hip, raising an eyebrow.

"You know." I begin, "you really shouldn't go around just touching other people's property."

Chris leans back, eyes narrowing in confusion. His smirk falters, and for a moment, he looks genuinely perplexed.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

His tone catch me off guard but before I can answer or even take in his words to begin with, a voice calls out from behind us.

"Why are you guys pestering around here?"

I turn just in time to see Jake walking toward us. Without a glance in our direction, he tosses his bag into the baggage area of the motorcycle I was just nearly leaning against.

My gaze widens in surprise—wider than i've ever seen them, as the realization hits me. The bike. It's Jake's.

I knew it looked familiar.

Chris notices the change in my expression and leans against the car, looking at me with a knowing grin.

"I thought you knew." he says, crossing his arms smugly. "Hence why you were admiring yourself right here."

I shoot him a glare, silently willing him to shut up. But when I speak, my voice falters.

"I wasn't..." I stammer, forcing out a nervous laugh. "I wasn't admiring myself...haha..."

Then, as if my embarrassment can no longer be contained, my smile vanishes. I fix Chris with a sharp, murderous look.

Chris let out a small snicker, unfazed by my expression.

"Jake... you brought your bike to school today..." I say, slouching casually against it. He simply nods, not meeting my gaze as he continues locking up the baggage area.

"Yeah, so what?" he replies, his tone indifferent.

I glance over the bike, an idea forming in my mind. It's risky, but I want to speed up the process of getting closer to him, just a little bit. I lean in, fluttering my lashes with a mischievous smile, the kind of smile I know can get attention.

He stops, standing up straight, his face clearly irritated now as he glances at me.

"What do you want?"

I run my fingers lightly across the leather seat, still looking up at him with flirty eyes, holding his gaze.

"Wanna give me a ride?" I ask, my voice coming out a bit teasing.

There's a heavy pause between us, the air thick with tension. I can hear Chris snickering behind me, no doubt amused by the whole situation.

Jake just stares at me, disbelief clear in his eyes. I don't break eye contact, keeping up my confident, flirty look, waiting for his response.

"Isn't that her?"

A voice calls out from beside us, cutting through the moment like a sharp blade.

I stop, momentarily breaking my gaze with Jake, and turn to see where the voice came from.

To my surprise, I notice a crowd had gathered, their eyes focused on us. No wonder. I hadn't realized how much attention we were drawing, especially with two of the most attractive guys at the school right in front of them. I nearly cringe at the thought.

I narrow my eyes, scanning the crowd, trying to find the source of the voice.

I spot some girls walking towards us with vicious intent. It takes me a moment but my eyebrows shoot up in recognition.

Those girls.

The ones who had bullied my mom that day. The same ones who had gotten me into trouble for standing up for her. I had put them in their place back then, and since then, they'd been afraid of me.

But now, I see that they've brought reinforcements. The original group has expanded, and they're all heading toward us.

I glance at Jake, but my attention is quickly pulled back to the approaching girls.

They reach us and stop right in front of me, the one who I assume is the leader, steps forward with a smug smile on her face. She places her hands on her hips, taking charge without hesitation.

"Well, well, if it isn't the school's biggest annoyance."

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