Ethan's words stayed with me like a song stuck on repeat: I meant it. Every word.
Even as I walked back home, each step felt heavier than the last. Not in a bad way, just… full. My chest was full. My thoughts were full. My heart felt like it had been cracked open and stuffed with something warm and terrifying all at once.
The moment our lips touched, something shifted. The fake lines blurred. Maybe they'd been blurry for a while, but that kiss? It was a line in the sand I couldn't ignore.
I kept replaying his hesitant approach, the look in his eyes, the way he held me like I might vanish if he wasn't careful. And I hadn't pulled away. I'd leaned in. I wanted it. I wanted him.
And that scared me more than I cared to admit.
Back home, I tried to distract myself by cleaning my room, organizing my bookshelf, and even scrubbing the sink in the bathroom. But nothing worked. My thoughts circled like vultures, feeding off every small detail from earlier, his mom's kind smile, his dad's cold stare, the way Ethan's hand had never left mine during brunch.
I kept glancing at my phone, waiting for his text even though I told myself not to. I didn't want to seem needy. But as the hours passed, my resolve crumbled.
Just after seven, my phone buzzed.
Ethan: Still thinking about earlier. Want to talk?
My heart did a somersault. I typed back before I could overthink it.
Me: Yeah. Call?
Seconds later, his name lit up my screen.
"Hey," I said, my voice softer than I expected.
"Hey," he echoed. There was a pause, one of those not-quite-awkward silences that somehow felt… familiar.
"Today was intense," I offered.
He laughed lightly. "That's one word for it."
I bit my lip, staring at the ceiling. "Do you regret it?"
"The kiss?"
"Yeah."
"No," he said without hesitation. "Do you?"
"No," I whispered.
Another pause.
"I keep thinking about what your dad said," I admitted. "About scholarships and image, and everything. He seemed… hard on you."
"He always has been," Ethan replied, his voice tightening. "He thinks pressure builds diamonds. Maybe he's not wrong, but it sucks sometimes. You stepping in… I didn't expect that."
"I didn't plan it," I said. "It just came out."
"I'm glad it did."
A warmth spread through me at his words.
"I guess I just hate how he talks to you," I continued. "Like you're never enough."
He let out a sigh. "That's kind of his brand. I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't have to be."
There was another pause, heavier this time. Then he said, "You make things feel lighter, Scarlet. Even when they're not."
I blinked hard, my throat tightening. "You do the same for me."
He chuckled. "Guess we're good at pretending, huh?"
I smiled into the silence. "Maybe it's not pretending anymore."
"No," he said. "Maybe it's not."
We talked for another hour. About everything and nothing. Favorite childhood cartoons. Weird habits. Our worst school subjects his was English, mine was math. He told me his sister adored me and his mom had already asked when I was coming over again. I didn't realize how much I needed that call until we hung up and I was left in the dark, phone clutched to my chest, heart thumping against my ribs.
The next morning brought reality crashing back.
Walking into school, I felt like everyone was staring. Maybe it was paranoia. Or maybe it was the way news traveled, whispers, glances, half-smirks. People saw Ethan and me as a couple now. A real couple. And the lines we had once so carefully drawn had all but disappeared.
I caught sight of Ethan near his locker, laughing with a few teammates. His smile faltered when he saw me, then softened.
He walked over. "Hey, you."
"Hey," I said, suddenly shy.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.
"Just… processing."
He nodded. "Want to walk to class together?"
I hesitated. Not because I didn't want to, but because walking with him meant confirming what everyone else already suspected. That Scarlet, the quiet nobody, was really dating Ethan Donovan. Hockey captain. School golden boy. Every girl's crush.
But I said yes. Because at that moment, I didn't want to hide.
We walked side by side, hands brushing but not quite touching. I felt like a thousand eyes were on us. Maybe they were.
In the hallway, Olivia, a girl from my history class, stopped us with a smirk.
"Scarlet, wow. You and Ethan? Didn't see that one coming."
Ethan's jaw tensed.
"Yeah, well," he said coolly, "maybe you should start paying attention."
We moved past her, and I tried not to let her words get to me. But they did.
People thought I didn't belong with him. That this was some cosmic glitch. And the more I felt for Ethan, the more terrified I became of waking up from whatever dream we were in.
That afternoon, while Ethan was at practice, I stayed behind in the library, trying to focus on an essay but failing miserably. My phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: You think you've got him? Think again.
My stomach dropped.
I stared at the message, heart racing. There was no name. No context. Just a threat.
Before I could respond, another message came in.
Unknown Number: He's not who you think he is.
I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling. Was this a prank? Someone being cruel? Or was there something I didn't know?
I thought about showing Ethan, but what if it scared him away? What if it made things worse?
I deleted the texts, but the damage was done.
That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the questions swirled.
What if Ethan was hiding something?
What if this wasn't just high school gossip or jealousy, but something real? Something that could shatter everything we were building?
Because for the first time since this all started, I didn't just want to protect the lie.
I wanted to protect us