Silent Hearts | 18+

Chapter 56

Becca wouldn't give further details on "Phase 1". Not over the call. Not even when I texted her after, demanding to know what the hell she was planning that involves my boyfriend.

Trust me, she replied. Two words, smug and infuriating.

Which is how we end up at Hastings Pub on a Thursday night, packed shoulder-to-shoulder with half the student body. Music thumps from cheap speakers, the air thick with sweat and spilled beer. It smells like sticky floors and bad decisions.

I tug at the hem of my fitted green crop top, already regretting the ripped jeans and leather jacket combo. Cute enough to get me out the door, but completely impractical for a room that feels like a sauna.

Theo's beside me, tall enough to part the crowd without even trying. He hasn't let go of my hand since we walked in. His thumb keeps dragging across my knuckles like he's reminding himself I'm here. Like he needs the anchor.

"This is a bad idea," I mutter, craning my neck to spot Becca through the crush of bodies.

Theo's jaw ticks. "I know baby."

We find Lewis first. He's already posted up by the bar, waving us over with two pints and a grin too wide to trust. "There he is the man of the hour."

"Shut up, Lew." Theo grits out, pulling me closer.

Becca materializes seconds later, weaving through the crush like the chaos bends around her. She's annoyingly put-together: black top, perfect eyeliner, hair twisted up like she didn't just shoulder through half the rugby team.

"Took you long enough," she says, pressing a glass into my hand. The liquid inside is fizzy and suspiciously pink.

I narrow my eyes. "What is this?"

"Liquid courage," she deadpans.

I roll my eyes but tip it back anyway. It fizzes sharp against my tongue, sweet at first then biting as it burns down. I slam the glass on the bar harder than I mean to, coughing once as heat spreads through me.

Becca smirks knowingly. "Also doubles as temper management. Thought I'd spare Theo from losing circulation in his arm before we even start."

Theo stiffens beside me, but it's his silence that makes me more on edge.

"You still haven't told us what 'tonight' actually is," he says, voice tight.

Becca's smile curves, sharp as a blade. "Patience."

Lewis claps a hand on Theo's shoulder. "Bro, you're vibrating. Relax."

Theo shoots him a glare. Lewis just grins wider.

I sip what's left of Becca's mystery drink, watching her. She's scanning the room, eyes glinting like a general before battle. Then I see it—the flick of her chin, the sly curl of her mouth.

Peyton.

She's at the far side of the bar, black hair gleaming under neon lights, surrounded by her little entourage. She looks like she belongs here—like she owns the place. My stomach twists.

"Alright," she says, voice low but calm, like she's been rehearsing this all day. "Here's the plan. Theo goes over there, finds Peyton, and makes her feel like she's won. He flirts, lays it on thick, tells her he and you never would've worked out."

She tips her chin at me.

"And that she's the one who opened his eyes."

Theo straightens, bristling. "I'm supposed to what—thank her for ruining my life?"

"Yes." Becca's smile is razor sharp. "Because that's how you get her comfortable enough to slip. We need her cocky. We need her thinking she's untouchable. That's when she'll run her mouth."

Lewis lifts his pint in salute. "Honestly, I'd pay to see this. She's been salivating over him since week one."

"Lewis," I snap, my stomach twisting.

He lifts his hands in mock surrender. "What? Just facts." A grin plastered across his face.

Becca's eyes flick to me, deadly serious. "You can't go storming over there, Isa. Not tonight. You stick to Theo right now and Peyton will never buy it. He has to sell this. Alone."

"Like hell," I bite out, my body pressing closer to Theo's instinctively. The thought of him looking at Peyton like that—of her touching him—has my throat burning.

Theo squeezes my hand, thumb dragging slow across my knuckles. His eyes soften when they meet mine. "It's just for show, Luna."

"No," I hiss, clutching his shirt like I can anchor him here with me. "She'll love it. She'll think she's won. And I can't—"

But the thought of Peyton's hands on him, her laugh in his ear—it makes my throat burn.

Becca's hand lands on my arm, firm. "If you interfere, this whole thing crashes. You want to clear his name? You want her cornered? Then you let him do this."

My jaw tightens, anger and dread tangling in my chest. Theo starts to move, but panic spikes in me. Before I can think better of it, I grab his face in both hands and crash my mouth against his.

It's not soft. Not careful. It's messy and desperate, lips and teeth clashing like I can brand myself into him before Peyton gets the chance. He groans low, hand cupping my jaw, holding me in place as he kisses me back just as hard. My fingers tangle in his curls, tugging, pulling him closer until the heat of him is all I can feel. Heat bursts low in my stomach, my heart pounding so loud it drowns out the music.

When I finally break away, breathless, his lips are swollen and slick, his curls a mess from where my fingers threaded through.

My voice shakes when I whisper against his mouth, "Remember who you belong to."

His forehead rests against mine for one beat, his eyes burning into me. Then he pulls back, jaw set, and turns toward Peyton.

And I feel like I've just handed him over to the enemy.