Bad guy (REWRITTEN)

Chapter 7

                              Anna

Saturday.

After two days, last text from billie, no more texts and peacefulness of the house felt smaller the second the front door clicked shut behind my parents. They moved through the living room like ghosts who'd forgotten how to speak to each other—brief nods, coats draped over the arm of the couch, the faint smell of airport coffee still clinging to them. Mom broke the silence first, casual as if she hadn't been gone two weeks.

"Your cousin's coming tomorrow. Nathan"

My spine straightened like someone had pulled a string. "Alone?"

She nodded once. "His parents are staying in Sydney another month. He'll be here through the break."

A grin split my face before I could stop it. Nathan. The kid who used to climb trees with me until we both bled, who taught me how to hot-wire a vending machine with a paperclip just to see if we could. We hadn't spoken in years beyond the occasional birthday text, but the memory of him still felt warm, uncomplicated. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
I mumbled goodnights, slipped upstairs, shut the door. Phone screen lit my face in the dark. One unread message from her. Of course.

Anna's bitch 👹 (9:47 pm): ghosting me already? Bold move for someone who blushes every time I am near you.

I stared at it too long. Thumb hovered. Deleted the draft that started with "leave me alone"

Typed something else instead. Deleted that too. Eventually I just locked the screen, changed into pajamas that smelled faintly of laundry detergent, brushed my teeth until my gums ached, and crawled under the covers. Sleep hit like a door slamming.

Morning came in fragments: alarm, Mom yanking sheets, cold air slapping skin, shower steam fogging the mirror until I looked like someone else. Downstairs the kitchen smelled of butter and batter. Pancakes—my favorite, the only thing she still remembered without asking. Dad scrolled emails at the table. Mom slid the plate in front of me without ceremony.

"School" she said. Not a question.

I ate fast, bike tires humming over pavement, wind drying the last damp strands of hair against my neck.

First period empty of her. Relief tasted like metal. Classes blurred notes, lectures, the low hum of fluorescent lights. Sophie and the others had ditched; hallway gossip said they were at Rick's smoking behind the gym. I didn't mind the quiet. The corridors felt wider without bodies in them, echoes softer.

Last bell. I lingered at my locker longer than necessary, hoping the building would empty completely before I had to leave. Almost made it.
Then I saw her.

Black hoodie, green roots catching the dying afternoon light through the windows. She was leaning against the far wall like she'd been waiting for me to notice. My stomach dropped.
I spun on my heel, ducked behind the corner, pressed my back to brick.

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I cursed at myself. She was right there—close enough the heat of her body cut through the space between us.

"Waiting for... a friend," I managed. Voice thin.
She glanced left, right. Empty hall. Then her fingers curled into the collar of my t-shirt and yanked. Hard. My back hit the bathroom door; she shoved it open, dragged me inside, kicked it shut. Lock clicked.

Wall met my spine again. She caged me there, one hand planted beside my head, the other still twisted in fabric.

"I texted you last night" she said, voice low, almost conversational. "You didn't answer"

"I was tired"

"Liar" She stepped closer. Our chests brushed. "You read it. Left me on delivered. That's cute"

Her hand slid from my collar to my throat—not choking, just resting there. Warm. Heavy. My pulse jumped against her palm.

"You think you can ignore me?" Thumb traced the line of my jaw. "Think that's how this works?"

"I didn't—"

She pressed. Just enough. Air thinned. My lips parted on a gasp.

"Shh" She leaned in until her mouth hovered over mine. "You're gonna make it up to me"