My grip tightens on my backpack strap.The answer should be simple.But my brain flashes to the sight of him shirtless in the kitchen, cigarette between his lips, abs like a damn Calvin Klein ad…
I swallow.“I don’t want Fox,” I say flatly.“I don’t really want anyone, honestly.”
Leanne’s teasing fades into something softer.“Oh.First crush trauma?”
“Yeah,” I mutter.“His name was Bryson.Back in high school.Let’s just say it ended with me being outed and humiliated.Haven’t exactly rushed into romance since.”
She nods, looping her arm through mine.“For what it’s worth, there’s nothing wrong with being single.Honestly, relationships are so overrated these days.”
We walk in silence for a few beats, the crisp sound of leaves crunching beneath our shoes.
“So…” she begins, kicking a dry leaf out of her way, “what were you up to before I texted?”
“Watching Netflix,” I say.“Trying to stay out of the apartment.Fox and his buddies are planning a party tonight.”
Leanne groans.“Ugh, you poor thing.His parties arechaos.Like, legendary levels of wild.Good luck getting any sleep.”
“I’m not planning on being there,” I say.“Fox already told me to stay in my room and not ruin his party.”
She stops again, brows raised.“Hetoldyou that?”
I nod.
Leanne shakes her head in disbelief.“God, he’s such an asshole.”
We reach the classroom where the literature club meets, and to my surprise, it’s… cozy.Soft lighting, worn armchairs, shelves lined with well-loved books.It smells faintly of old paper and cinnamon tea—like a safe space I didn’t know I needed.
Leanne introduces me to the club’s leader, Ms.Hopkins, a woman in her forties with kind eyes, thick-rimmed glasses, and a voice made for audiobooks.She smiles warmly at me and says, “Welcome.Why don’t you introduce yourself, sweetheart?”
So I do.
And then somehow, I end uptalking.Really talking.We go around sharing our favorite novels, and I surprise even myself by chiming in—tentatively at first, then with more confidence.There’s something soothing about being surrounded by people who care more about character arcs than keg stands.
By the time we wrap up, it’s past ten.
“Thanks for coming,” Leanne says as we step out into the cool night.“You looked like you needed that.”
“I did,” I admit.“It was nice.”
We part ways with a wave, and I make my way home, hoping Fox’s party has died down.It’s late enough.Surely things have mellowed out by now.
But the second I open the door, that hope dies a quick and painful death.
The apartment is a battlefield.Music pounds through the walls like a second heartbeat, too loud and too fast.The air is thick with smoke and the stench of cheap beer.People are everywhere—dancing, shouting, grinding, and making out like the apocalypse is coming.
I barely get through the living room without getting stepped on or groped.
All I want is my bed.Solitude.Silence.
But when I push open my bedroom door—I freeze.
There’s a couple on my bed.Naked.Having sex.
Mybed.
“What thehell?!”I shout, eyes wide, voice shaking with disbelief and rage.“Get out of my room!”
They barely react at first, like I’m the rude one.So I snatch their clothes off the floor and throw them.“Now!”
