“I’m not sure if going means I'm walking straight into a fire... or ifnotgoing is its own kind of disaster.”
His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward. “Why would it be a fire?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Bit the inside of my cheek.
“Because... everyone will be there. Coop, Jake, Bubba. Archie.” I glanced at him. Half the damn school. “And you.”
Mathieu’s smile was slow, but there was something guarded behind it. “That is a problem?”
I dropped my head back against the garage wall, exhaling hard. “You ever feel like no matter what choice you make, you’re still going to screw it up?”
“Yes,” he said instantly. “But that’s just being human.”
I gave him a look. “Well, right now, being human really sucks.”
“Why?” he asked gently.
“Because...” I pulled my knees to my chest. “I care about them. All of them. In different ways. And they care about me, too. But this—this thing with you—it’s real. It's new. It’s mine. And still... I feel like I’m constantly waiting for someone to call me a traitor.”
Jake had. At least, he’d reacted like I was one. That was bad enough. Archie didn’t want Mathieu around and Bubba wanted me to not limit my dating options. Coop? Right now, I had no idea what Coop wanted.
If I were honest, I was half-terrified of even asking Coop. I hated that feeling more than anything.
Mathieu’s jaw tightened subtly, but his voice stayed calm. “They had their chance.”
It wasn’t angry. Not quite. But it wasn’t neutral either.
“They didn’t know they needed to take it,” I said quietly. If I’d learned nothing else over the past few days, I’d learned that. “Apparently—they had taken it and I didn’t notice.” Whichwas embarrassing enough. “Now everything feels... like walking across a glass floor. I keep waiting for the crack.”
Mathieu stood slowly, brushing off his hands, and came to sit next to me on the old couch pushed against the wall. Our knees bumped. He didn’t pull away. He never did.
“You are not glass, Frankie. You’re not going to break.”
“No?” I whispered, testing the answer. He believed in me a lot more than I did. “They might.” Jake had been so angry Thursday morning. Not seeing him that afternoon had given me breathing room, but he hadn’t been that friendly earlier today. If anything, he was distant as hell.
Mathieu studied me a long beat, then reached over and took my hand. His fingers were warm and strong and steady in a way that made my chest ache.
“You don’t have to pick a side just to survive.”
“But I might have to pick one to stop everyone else from bleeding.”
He was silent for a beat, then said, “If I asked you to come to the party with me... as my date... would you say yes?”
My heart stuttered.
“I—” My mouth went dry. “It’s not that simple.”
“I didn’t say it was,” he replied. “But it is a question.”
The empathy in his gaze that made me pause. Not the performative kind, not the kind people use when they’re trying to look like they care. His eyes held something deeper. Understanding without judgment. Like he saw the pieces of me fraying at the edges and wasn’t afraid to look directly at them.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
My instinct was to lie. Or dodge. Or laugh it off with something stupid.
But his eyes…
The way he looked at me like hemeantit. Like my answer mattered more than the time or place or how I tried to pretend I was fine.
