Chapter 2
The hallway of Northwood High stretched out like a vast, empty canyon under the buzzing fluorescent lights. It was a space designed for noise for slamming lockers, shouting freshmen, and the chaotic rush of the bell but now, in the silence of late afternoon, it felt like a tomb.Ethan Hayes didn't run. Running felt like an admission of defeat, a surrender to the panic clawing at his throat. He walked, stumbling slightly, his sneakers catching on the linoleum. He clutched his retrieved notebook to his chest like a lifeline, the spiral binding digging painful crescents into his skin through his thin hoodie.Every step was a dull thud that echoed his own empty heartbeat. The tears blurring his vision tasted like salt and the metallic tang of adrenaline.But his mind wasn't in the hallway. It was trapped in a loop, replaying the last thirty seconds in high-definition horror.The movement.That was the thing that wouldn't fade. It wasn't just the nudity or the location; it was the specific, fluid roll of Lena's hips. It was a motion of practiced ease, of hungry enthusiasm. It shattered the carefully constructed image Ethan had worshipped for three years the shy, hesitant girl who whispered "not yet" in his car. That girl didn't exist. The girl on the desk, the one gripping Ryan Sterling's shoulders with white-knuckled intensity, was a stranger."Ethan!"Her voice cracked through the silence, raw and desperate.Footsteps quick, uneven, the slap of sneakers against tile chased him down. He stopped near the trophy case, his shoulders rigid. He didn't turn. He couldn't. If he looked at her now, he might vomit.She caught his elbow, her fingers digging in with a grip that trembled. The touch warm, familiar, the same hand that had traced lazy circles on his palm during last week's movie now felt like a branding iron."Ethan, please stop. God, just stop."He froze, the world narrowing to that touch. He slowly twisted to face her.Lena Vance stood there, a wreck of the girl he knew. Her blouse was half-tucked, buttons misaligned. Her skirt was twisted at the waist. Mascara-black rivers streaked her flushed cheeks. Her hazel eyes those wide, expressive eyes he'd memorized in stolen glances across chem labs were red-rimmed and pleading.But Ethan looked past her.Down the hall, the door to Room 104 hung ajar, spilling a wedge of yellow light across the floor. He could see Ryan's silhouette. He was still leaning against Mr. Hargrove's desk, casually zipping his jeans, watching the scene with the detached interest of someone watching a boring movie. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up perfectly, looking for all the world like he hadn't just destroyed his best friend's life."I " Ethan's voice broke, a choked whisper that tasted like rust. "Don't."Lena's breath hitched. She stepped closer, invading the personal space he was trying desperately to reclaim. The scent hit him again vanilla and coconut but now it was mixed with something sharper. Sweat. Musk. Him."It wasn't... it wasn't what it looked like," she stammered, her hands fluttering in the air, reaching for him but stopping short. "Or I mean, it was, but it meant nothing, Ethan. Please. Let me explain."Ethan laughed. It was a dark, wet sound. "Explain? Lena, I have eyes. I have ears.""It was a mistake!" she cried, tears spilling fresh. "A stupid, horrible, midterm-stress mistake. Ryan and I we were just talking, venting about college apps, and then... I don't know. It just happened. But it's physical. That's all. It's empty."She grabbed his hand, pressing it between hers. Her palms were damp. "You're the one I want. The one I've always wanted. Since that stupid orientation when you caught me. Remember? You called me 'Steady.' I've been yours since then, Ethan. Every doodle in my notebooks E + L, remember? That's us."Her words wrapped around him like smoke, hazy and suffocating.E + L.He remembered. He remembered the chem lab, second period, her hand slipping into his under the periodic table poster while Ryan joked with the TA up front. He remembered the way she'd squeeze his fingers during Hargrove's lectures, a secret Morse code: I'm here.But as he looked at her now, seeing the desperation in her eyes, a cold, sickening realization took root in his gut.Lena wasn't crying because she had lost the love of her life. She was crying because she was losing her stability.Ethan realized, with the clarity of a diamond cutter, exactly what he was to her. He wasn't the passion; Ryan was the passion. Ryan was the excitement, the danger, the physical release. Ethan? Ethan was the furniture. He was the comfortable armchair she collapsed into after the storm. He was the homework help. He was the safe place.And right now, facing the chaos of her own actions, she was terrified of losing her safety net."I... I don't know," he murmured, pulling his hand away. He backed against a locker, the cold metal biting through his hoodie. "How do I believe that? After seeing... that?"Lena closed the gap again, frantic. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, ignoring his stiffness. "Because it's true. Because I love you. Not like that not with him. With you, it's real. The way you wait for me. The way you listen." She looked up, her chin trembling. "I've been scared, okay? Scared to mess it up. But I swear, Ethan swear that was the end of it. No more Ryan. No more anything but us."Ethan stood rigid, his arms hanging limp at his sides.Every instinct in his body screamed at him to shove her away. To scream at her about the moans he'd heard, about the hip roll, about the years of "not yet."But then, his phone buzzed in his pocket.It wasn't a text. It was a notification from the calendar app. 7:00 PM - Dinner with Dad.The vibration was a stark reminder of the other reality waiting for him.The Miller Account.His sister Chloe's warning flashed in his mind: Dad's on a warpath. Don't come home unless you have your shields up.If Ethan walked away from Lena right now if he broke up with her, screamed at Ryan, and stormed out he would be walking into his father's house completely shattered. He would be raw, bleeding, and unable to focus. His father, Mr. Hayes, would smell the weakness like a shark. He would ask about the chemistry prep. He would ask why Ethan's eyes were red. He would pick him apart until there was nothing left.He couldn't fight a war on two fronts. He wasn't strong enough. Not today.He needed a buffer. He needed the lie, just for a few more hours. He needed to be able to walk into his house and pretend everything was normal, or he would break completely.Ethan's arms lifted, heavy as lead, and circled Lena's shoulders. It felt like hugging a stranger."Okay," he whispered, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "Okay, Lena. I... I believe you."She pulled back just enough to look at him, hope warring with disbelief. "You do? Really?" A smile broke through her tears, fragile as frost. "Oh, God, Ethan. Thank you. We can fix this. Tonight come over like we planned. We'll talk. Just us."He nodded, numb. "Yeah. Just us."As she wiped her eyes, relieved and seemingly oblivious to the death of his soul, his phone buzzed again. A vibration that rattled against his thigh like an aftershock.He fished it out. The screen lit up the dim hall.Group Chat: Trio ShenanigansRyan Sterling: Hey man, are you good? That got weird fast. Let's squash it pizza at my place later? My treat.Mia: What the hell just happened? Are you guys okay?Jake: Haha. If this is about the chemistry notes, I have backups. Relax.Ethan stared at the screen. Squash it? Ryan wasn't apologizing. He was managing the situation. He was treating Ethan like a disgruntled employee who needed a free lunch to get back to work.Ethan looked up the hall. Ryan was walking toward them now, his bag slung over one shoulder, looking infuriatingly composed. He caught Ethan's eye and gave a small, distinct nod not of contrition, but of command. Get in line, Ethan.Lena touched his arm again. "Ignore them. Come on walk me to my locker? We can head out together."He pocketed the phone. "Yeah. Together."They walked in silence. Lena linked her pinky with his, swinging their hands slightly, trying to force the rhythm of normalcy back into the air. Ethan let her do it, but his hand felt like a prosthetic dead and unfeeling.By her locker, she leaned up on tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It was soft, chaste, and tasted of salt. "See you at seven? Don't hate me.""I don't," he lied, his voice steady for the first time. "Never could."She smiled, relief flooding her face, and turned away, ponytail swinging as she vanished around the corner toward the bus loop.Ethan stood there, alone again. The hallway swallowed her footsteps.His phone buzzed one last time—a private text from Ryan.Ryan Sterling: Dude, seriously. Water under the bridge. You are my boy.My boy.The words echoed, hollow as the lockers around him. Ryan didn't see him as a friend. He saw him as a possession. Something to be used, borrowed, and put back on the shelf.Ethan turned and pushed through the heavy double doors of the school entrance. The evening air was thick and humid, smelling of impending rain.He began the walk home. It was a walk he knew by heart, but today the geography felt different.He passed the manicured lawns of Ryan's neighborhood first. He saw the Sterling house massive, lit up with warm, inviting golden light. He could imagine Ryan inside, opening the fridge, grabbing a Gatorade, laughing with his parents. No consequences.Then, the pavement changed. The sidewalks cracked. The lawns grew patchier.Ethan turned onto his street. The shadows seemed longer here.He saw his house at the end of the cul-de-sac. It wasn't a home; it was a fortress of expectation. The blinds were drawn tight. And there, in the driveway, sat his father's grey sedan. The engine was ticking, cooling down.Beside it, leaning against the hood with a cigarette in hand, was his older brother, Derek.Derek looked up as Ethan approached. He flicked the cigarette butt into the grass and crossed his arms, his face twisting into a sneer that mirrored their father's permanent disappointment."You're late," Derek called out, his voice carrying across the quiet street. "Dad's been home for twenty minutes. He's already asking why your GPS tracker showed you still at school."Ethan gripped his notebook tighter. The lie he had told Lena the "truce" was supposed to protect him from this. But as he looked at Derek's hostile face and the dark, looming windows of his house, he realized the buffer was useless.He was walking from an emotional slaughter into a firing squad.And this time, he was completely out of ammunition.