The street outside the school felt too quiet after everything. The echo of lockers and voices had faded, leaving only the sound of my footsteps as Jade walked beside me. Too close. Always too close.
When we reached the parking lot, his car stood out like it always did- a sleek, gleaming red Mercedes that demanded attention even when no one else was around to see it. He unlocked it with a flick of his wrist, tossing his bag carelessly into the back seat.
"Get in," he said simply. Not a question, not an offer. A command.
For a moment, I hesitated, clutching my books tighter. Every instinct screamed at me to run home on my own, to avoid being trapped in a moving car with him after everything that had just happened. But instead my legs moved, my fingers curled around the cool metal of the door handle, and I slipped inside, scarf tugged high again.
The engine roared to life, smooth and powerful, and we pulled out of the lot in silence.
I pressed my hands flat against my knees, trying to keep them still. The air between us was thick- not just with what had happened but with everything unspoken. Every brush of memory: Max's hand too close, Jade's kiss, my scarf slipping, my breath stolen.
Jade drove one-handed, the other draped casually on the wheel. His profile was sharp in the fading light, jaw set, lips pressed in a faint line that didn't match his usual smirk. He didn't look at me once, not directly, but I felt the weight of him anyway- a presence that filled the car, leaving me no room to breathe freely.
I stared out the window, watching the blur of streets and trees pass by. My reflection in the glass looked fragile, scarf loose where I'd tied it in a rush, eyes wide with everything I couldn't say.
Minutes stretched, the silence growing heavier. I almost welcomed it- at least it kept him from speaking. But silence with Jade was never harmless. It pressed against me harder than words, like a storm waiting to break.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low, cutting through the quiet.
"You let him get too close."
My stomach clenched. I didn't look at him. "I didn't let anything."
His laugh was short, humorless.
Heat rushed to my cheeks beneath the scarf. "I was… I was scared."
Jade's grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles whitening for a second before he forced them loose again. His jaw ticked, the muscle flexing. "You don't get scared with me."
I snapped my gaze toward him, stunned. "What does that even mean?"
His eyes flicked to me then, quick but sharp, before fixing back on the road. "It means you don't freeze when it's me. You feel it. But with him-" His voice hardened. "With him, you looked like prey. I don't like that."
I swallowed, words tangling in my throat. My fingers twisted in the hem of my shirt, desperate for something to hold onto.
The silence pressed against my ears until it felt like static. I thought maybe he would stop, let the conversation die, but Jade never stopped where he should.
His hand tightened on the wheel again, veins standing out along his forearm. "Did you like it?"
The question hit like a slap. My head whipped toward him, eyes wide beneath my scarf. "What?"
His mouth curled - not a smirk, not quite- something sharper, uglier. "When he touched you. Did it make you feel something?"
"No," I blurted, voice breaking. "Of course not- "
He cut me off, voice low and heavy. "Then why didn't you pull away?"
My throat locked. I tried to speak but the truth was messy - I had wanted to pull away, but fear pinned me, shame burned me, and then Jade had appeared, dragging me into a storm fiercer than Max ever could be.
Jade's jaw clenched. He flicked his eyes to me again, and this time they lingered, burning, daring me to look away. "I saw it, scarf. The way he leaned in, the way your hands froze. He thought he had a chance. And that's on you."
The words cut, deep and unfair. My nails dug into my palms beneath the folds of my scarf. "That's not fair. I didn't want him near me."
His laugh was low, humorless. "Didn't look like that from where I stood."
Tears stung my eyes, hidden under the shadow of fabric, but I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. I turned my gaze to the window again, to the streak of light melting over the street.
Jade wasn't done. He leaned back in his seat, voice quieter now but sharper, colder. "You belong to me. Not him. Not anyone. And if he tries again—" His lips curved into something dark. "He won't be walking away so easily."
A chill shot down my spine. His words were a promise, not an empty threat.
I wanted to argue, to tell him I didn't belong to anyone. That he couldn't just say it and make it true. But the memory of his mouth on mine, the heat of his body caging me, the way I hadn't fought hard enough - it silenced me.
We pulled into my street, the familiar houses blurring into one another. My chest tightened the closer we got. Home should have been safety, but tonight, it felt like a cage waiting to snap shut.
Jade parked smoothly in front of my house. The engine quieted, but the air inside the car stayed tense, thick, unbearable.
He finally turned fully toward me, elbow on the back of his seat, eyes fixed. His gaze dropped briefly to my scarf again, as though remembering how it had slipped earlier.
"Don't ever let him touch you again," he said, voice low, possessive. "Or anyone. I mean it."
The words stuck in the air, heavy.
I fumbled with my bag, desperate to escape, but before I could open the door, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist again. Not harsh. His thumb pressed against my pulse, steady and knowing.
"Say it," he whispered.
My heart stuttered. "Say what?"
"That you're mine."
The silence stretched, unbearable. My lips trembled beneath the scarf, words caught between truth and defiance.
I couldn't say it. But I couldn't look away either.