Behind The Mask

Part 4: Lines Blurred (Noah's perspective)

Noah had spent the rest of Friday replaying the cafeteria scene over and over in his mind, each iteration more humiliating than the last. Jace Hamilton, star athlete, king of the school, had asked him out as a joke. And the worst part? For a brief, fleeting moment, Noah had believed it was real.

How stupid could he be?

By the time he got home, his stomach was still knotted with embarrassment. He couldn't focus on his homework, couldn't concentrate on his games, and even his favorite book-the one he'd read a dozen times-couldn't distract him. His brain was stuck in an endless loop, analyzing every word, every glance, every laugh from the people around Jace.

They'd all been in on it. Of course they had. That was how things worked at East Ridge High. The popular kids played their games, and people like Noah were just pawns.

The worst part wasn't the embarrassment. It wasn't even the fact that everyone in the cafeteria had seen him flustered and caught off guard. It was the fact that, deep down, Noah had wanted it to be real. He'd wanted to believe that someone like Jace could actually notice him, could actually see him as more than the quiet, nerdy kid sitting alone at lunch.

That thought stuck with him, heavy and unrelenting, as the weekend dragged on.

---

By Monday morning, Noah had convinced himself that he was over it. Jace Hamilton didn't matter. His opinion didn't matter. None of it mattered.

But when he saw Jace in the hallway before first period, something in him froze. Jace was walking toward him, his usual confident stride just a little slower, his gaze fixed directly on Noah.

Noah's stomach dropped. What now? Was Jace going to make another joke? Was he going to keep the game going? Noah didn't know if he could handle another round of humiliation.

He kept his head down, focusing on the books in his locker. If he ignored Jace, maybe he'd go away. Maybe he'd lose interest. But Noah wasn't that lucky.

"Hey," Jace said.

Noah clenched his jaw, bracing himself. He turned slowly, his eyes meeting Jace's. The hockey star looked... different. He wasn't smirking, wasn't laughing. He looked almost-nervous?

"What do you want?" Noah asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Jace hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. For a moment, he looked like he was struggling to find the right words, and Noah couldn't help but feel a small flicker of satisfaction. Good. Let him squirm.

"I just..." Jace started, his voice quieter than Noah expected. "I wanted to apologize. For Friday. It was... it was stupid. And I shouldn't have done it."

Noah blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't expected an apology. He'd expected teasing, laughter, maybe some kind of snide comment to rub salt in the wound. But an actual, genuine apology? That was new.

He narrowed his eyes, studying Jace's face. "Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice low. He needed to know. He needed to understand why Jace had singled him out.

Jace hesitated again, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Noah's. "I don't know," he said finally. "It seemed funny at the time, but... it wasn't. I just-I messed up. And I'm sorry."

There was something in Jace's voice that made Noah pause. It didn't sound like the usual smooth-talking, confident tone he used with his friends. It sounded... sincere.

Noah didn't know what to do with that. He wanted to stay angry, wanted to hold onto the hurt, but the way Jace was looking at him-it was hard to ignore.

"Okay," Noah said finally, his voice quieter now. "Thanks, I guess."

Jace nodded, looking relieved, but Noah wasn't sure how he felt.

As Jace walked away, Noah leaned back against his locker, his mind racing. The apology had caught him off guard, but it didn't erase what had happened. It didn't erase the fact that, for a moment, he'd thought it was real.

But as much as Noah wanted to put the whole thing behind him, something about Jace's expression lingered in his mind. There had been something there-something real, something vulnerable. And as much as Noah hated it, he couldn't stop wondering what it meant.