Tom's POV
She took one small step closer, slow like she wasn't sure I'd stay.
"You're real," she said softly. "Everybody else wants a favor, or attention, or whatever makes them look better, but you… you're just with me. Without conditions. And I don't have that with anyone else."
And fuck—hearing that?
It hit harder than I expected.
She wasn't looking down at her shoes. She was looking straight at me—eyes wide, terrified that I'd walk away again.
"So please," she whispered, "don't stop being my friend. I don't care what you heard. I don't care what anyone thinks. Just… stay."
I didn't want to give in. Wanted to hold onto the irritation, the confusion, the sting Tyler left in my head—but it dissolved way too fast.
"Fine," I muttered. "I'm not mad anymore."
That tiny, relieved breath she let out felt like a punch.
"Okay," she said with this tiny smile, like she was scared it would fade. "Then… do you want to hang out after school? At my place? My dad isn't home today."
She said it casual—like it wasn't a landmine—but her fingers were twisting nervously in the end of her uniform skirt.
"If you don't want to, it's fine—"
I cut her off.
"Yeah. I'll go."
Shock flared in her expression, then warmth, then that too-bright smile she always tried to hide.
"Okay," she whispered. "Good."
And somewhere down the hallway, her friends were laughing, calling her name, asking where she went—voices getting closer.
She didn't look back at them.
Just at me.
Like I was the choice she already made.
After school, I stood by the gate like an idiot, backpack hanging off one shoulder, staring at the road like it had all the answers.My brain was doing that annoying overthinking thing again.
What the fuck am I even doing?Why did I forgive her so easily?She's obviously hiding shit and I just folded like wet paper because she gave me those fucking puppy eyes.
I should've gone home.I should've walked away.I should've—
"Hey, you ready to go?" her voice came from behind me.
I turned, and there she was, all soft-eyed and nervous like she wasn't the reason my entire week had felt like a slow-motion car crash.
"Yeah," I said, flat as concrete.
Before I could even pretend I was rethinking things, a sleek black car rolled up to the gate and stopped right in front of us. It looked expensive enough to make to drain someone's finances.
"Your driver?" I asked, raising a brow.
She nodded, but something in her expression tightened. Not scared exactly… more like uneasy. And that wasn't normal for her.
We got in the backseat together. The air smelled expensive . She sat close, body angled slightly toward the window, staring out like she was thinking way too hard.
I watched her for a second, then asked, "How come you don't drive yourself anymore? You used to, right? Black Maserati?"
Her head whipped toward me. "Yes. I did." Her voice softened. "It was a present for my 16th birthday."
A fucking Maserati. For sixteen.Meanwhile I got a laptop, a MacBook and honestly? I was happy as hell.But her? She's rich rich. Like several-supercars-in-the-garage rich.
I let out a dry laugh. "Right. Of course. Maserati. Sixteen. Totally normal."
She huffed a tiny smile.
"And how come you don't drive it anymore?" I pressed, because something in her expression didn't sit right.
That's when I saw it — a flicker in her eyes. Not guilt.Fear.
It flashed there, sharp and quick, before she tore her gaze away.
"It's nicer to be driven," she said lightly.
Bullshit.
We pulled up to her place and, yeah—same stupidly massive house, same guards, same "this-is-definitely-not-a-normal-life" vibe. I barely had time to process it before she grabbed my wrist again and dragged me straight inside like she was afraid I'd bolt. No tour this time. No small talk.Straight to the arcade.
The second the door closed behind us, it was like slipping into some weird bubble where nothing else existed. No Tyler. No school. No bullshit. Just lights flashing, machines beeping, and her laughter echoing off the walls.
We played everything. Racing games. Air hockey. Basketball. I beat her at the racing game and she accused me of cheating. She beat me at air hockey and absolutely rubbed it in like a fucking menace. It was easy. Too easy. Like this was how it was always supposed to be.
And that scared the shit out of me.