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Chapter 8 - Chapter Eight: All the things they saw

EDEN

We're not touching.

Not really.

But my thigh is pressed against hers under the tech table, and our pinkies keep brushing.

She's laughing at something I said—not mock-laughing, really laughing—and I can't stop staring at the curve of her cheek when she smiles.

It's terrifying.

Because I know someone's going to notice.

Because I don't want to stop.

And because for the first time, I think maybe she doesn't want to either.

Until—

"Whoa."

The voice cuts through the air like glass shattering.

We both turn.

And of course—it's Logan Barlow, student council drama magnet and owner of the school's biggest mouth.

He's standing by the soundboard, frozen mid-step, eyes wide, eyebrows already halfway to hell.

Savannah pulls away from me like she's been burned. Her face drains of color.

I sit up straight, hard.

Logan's mouth opens. "Well. This is… new."

---

SAVANNAH

"No, it's not what it looked like," I blurt. Too fast. Too panicked.

Eden doesn't say a word.

Logan's smirking now. "Hey, your secret's safe with me. But just so you know—like, five people saw you through the glass."

My stomach drops.

"You don't get to tell people anything," Eden says suddenly, cold.

Logan shrugs. "I don't have to."

He walks away.

Savannah stands. Fast.

"I have to go."

"Savannah—"

"Don't," she snaps. Her voice cracks.

I watch her shove her script into her bag and nearly trip over a chair on her way out.

She doesn't look back.

---

EDEN

By lunch the next day, it's everywhere.

We don't talk.

She won't look at me.

And someone wrote "Sapphic Stageplay?" on the whiteboard outside the drama room.

Everyone has something to say. No one knows the truth. And I don't know what hurts more—what they're saying, or the fact that she's letting them say it.

---

SAVANNAH

I didn't mean to run.

But I did.

Because being seen—like that—scared me in a way I wasn't ready for.

Now everyone's talking and Eden's not even mad.

She just looks… disappointed.

And that? That hurts worse than the rumors.

Because maybe—just maybe—I didn't want her to stop looking at me the way she did.

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