"You may be his world, but you're the only thing that ever felt like home to me."
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Some people never get second chances. Lilah never thought she'd get one with her brother's best friend.
She's quiet...
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I walk beside Jackson in silence, the cool corridor air doing little to ease the burning feeling in my chest. Every step feels heavier than the last as memories of Saturday night swirl in my mind. I can't help but feel betrayed—why didn't he warn me about the rumors?
As we walk down the hallway, I glance up at Jackson. His eyes are guarded, a mix of remorse and determination shining through. I want to ask him why he never told me, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I simply walk silently, each step filled with conflicting emotions of hurt, hope, and the quiet promise that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as alone as I thought.
The walk to the office is silent, but the tension between me and Jackson is anything but.
I can still feel the way he guarded me from Nate earlier, the way he kept me close after the teacher ordered us here. I should pull away. I should be angry. I am angry. But the weight of everything that just happened—the rumors, Nate cornering me, Jackson shoving him into the lockers—sits so heavily on my chest that I don't have the energy to react.
I don't look at Jackson, and he doesn't say anything, but I can sense the frustration radiating off of him. His steps are stiff, his hands clenched into loose fists at his sides. I don't know if it's anger at Nate or anger at me, but I don't care enough to ask.
We reach the administrative office, and the receptionist barely glances up from her desk before motioning toward the principal's door with a pencil in her hand. "Go in. He's expecting you."
Jackson doesn't hesitate. He pushes the door open, as if he's been here before, without waiting for me, and I follow. My stomach twists as I step inside.
Principal Holloway sits behind his desk, his expression neutral but sharp. He's a tall, broad-shouldered man in his fifties, with graying hair and a permanent crease between his brows. He has an intimidating, serious energy around him that makes me even more nervous to be here. He doesn't waste time with pleasantries.
"Take a seat," he says, his gaze quickly flicking between the two of us as we settle into the chairs across from his desk. I place my bag on the ground against the chair, my nerves sending waves of anxiety through me. "I already got a report about the altercation in the hallway. Tell me what's going on."
I hesitate, my hands twisting in my lap. Jackson doesn't say a word, slouched in his seat with his jaw tight and his eyes looking towards the wall to his right, so it's clear I'm the one who has to speak.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. "It's about Nate," I say, forcing myself to meet the principal's stern gaze and push past my nerves. I remind myself that I haven't done anything wrong, and if anyone needs to worry about being in trouble, it's Nate. "He's been... bothering me. For a while now."
Holloway leans forward, his fingers laced together under his chin. "Define 'bothering.'" He gives me a curious look, but seems to have a glint of concern.
