The ride home was quieter than the ride there — not in a bad way, just… different.
Skylar sat with her knees tucked under her, jacket half-zipped, still catching breaths that weren't entirely from the concert. Her body buzzed. Not from the music, not from the crowd — from him. From the way Jamie had held her hand in the middle of a packed room and not once tried to let go.
She glanced sideways. Jamie's hand was on the wheel, knuckles pale with focus. But the corners of his mouth twitched upward, like he could still feel her fingers against his.
"You're quiet," he said softly.
She looked out the window. "So are you."
"Worried you regret coming."
Skylar turned her head fully. "Why would you think that?"
Jamie shrugged, eyes still on the road. "You flinched when the camera clicked."
"I didn't regret the moment," she said. "I just… wasn't used to it."
He nodded, tapping the steering wheel with his thumb. "Being seen?"
"No. Being chosen."
The words came out before she could censor them. She felt them land between them like something fragile and glowing.
Jamie didn't speak for a few seconds. Then he pulled over.
Not far — just a quiet shoulder off a side road, where the only light came from the dashboard and the moon above the trees. The hum of the engine softened into stillness.
He turned toward her fully. "I don't care who saw us. I'd do it again. Every day."
Skylar stared at him. His voice didn't shake. His eyes didn't flick away. He wasn't performing or saying what he thought she wanted to hear. He meant it.
"I'm still scared," she admitted.
Jamie leaned forward, resting his arm on the steering wheel, his other hand reaching for hers. "Same. But scared isn't bad. It means we're not faking this."
She squeezed his hand.
For a moment, that was enough.
And then the air shifted.
It wasn't dramatic — no sudden storm, no movie-perfect kiss. It was just a pull. A heat that started in her stomach and climbed to her chest. Jamie's gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt the breath hitch in her throat.
"I should get you home," he whispered.
Skylar nodded.
But neither of them moved.
Instead, she leaned in.
Their lips met slowly — a question, not a demand. Soft, unsure, full of electricity. It wasn't their first kiss, but it felt like the first one that mattered. Like something had opened and there was no closing it now.
Jamie's hand slid to her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. She melted into it, into him, into the safety of that impossible stillness where nothing else existed.
When they finally pulled apart, Skylar exhaled a tiny laugh. "You sure you don't regret that?"
Jamie looked dazed. "Only that I waited this long."
She leaned her head on his shoulder, heart rattling in her chest.
Outside, the wind rustled the trees like they were clapping in secret.
Part 2 – Screenshots and Side-Eyes
The headlights faded as Jamie drove off, leaving Skylar standing in front of her house with her heart still somewhere between his car and that kiss.
Inside, the house was quiet. The lights were off except for the hallway lamp — Mom's signal that she was still awake but giving Skylar space.
She slipped off her shoes and padded down the hall toward her room. She had barely closed the door when her phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Then it exploded.
27 notifications.
Skylar blinked at the screen. Most were from Instagram. A few from Snapchat. One from a group chat she hadn't touched since sophomore year.
She tapped the Instagram icon and froze.
There, in the explore tab, was a photo of her and Jamie.
From the concert.
The photo was a little blurry, but the moment was unmistakable — Jamie's hand in hers, heads turned toward each other, bodies lit by soft stage glow. Someone had captioned it with:
"Looks like Skylar's not so invisible anymore 👀🔥"
Skylar's stomach dropped.
Another notification pinged — a DM from Becca, a girl from biology who always sat two rows behind her.
"Yoooo. Is that you and Jamie?? Since when???"
And then another:
"Omg you and Jamie were all over the place tonight. Girl, DETAILS."
And then:
"Lila's gonna flip. Just sayin'."
Skylar's heart thudded.
Lila.
She hadn't thought about her all night. And now the memory of the girl — her perfectly winged eyeliner, her practiced charm, her casual claim on Jamie at every party — surged into her brain like a warning siren.
Before she could overthink it, her phone buzzed again.
Jamie:
You okay? It's already blowing up. I'm not hiding though. Just say the word, and I'll post it myself.
Skylar stared at the message.
That was Jamie — no games, no hiding. The offer wasn't pressure. It was protection.
Her thumbs hovered. Her pulse raced.
Instead of replying right away, she opened TikTok. She wasn't even sure why. Call it masochism or curiosity.
There, under "#AshfieldConcert," were several clips — one of the opening band, one of the crowd. Then one from the moment someone had caught her and Jamie from across the venue.
The audio was muffled, but the image was clear: Jamie pulling her close, their hands laced, her head on his chest as they swayed under the lights.
It already had 2,000 views.
Comments ranged from:
"AWW WHO ARE THEY?"
"Is that Jamie from track? No way."
"Girl with the messy bun WINS."
And one that stopped Skylar cold:
"Pretty sure that's Lila's territory. RIP."
Skylar turned off her phone.
The silence in the room was deafening.
She went to her mirror and looked at herself — same hoodie, same smudged eyeliner, same freckles she'd always tried to cover. Nothing had changed… and yet everything had.
Her reflection didn't look stronger. But she felt something new settling under her skin. Not confidence exactly — more like resolve. If this was what came with being seen, then maybe being invisible hadn't been safety. It had just been waiting.
She sat on the edge of her bed and picked up her phone again.
She opened Jamie's message and typed back.
I'm okay. I'm not hiding either.
A few seconds later, his typing bubbles popped up.
That's my girl.
Her lips curled into a smile before she could stop it.
But in the pit of her stomach, she knew this was just the beginning. Tomorrow at school, people would look. People would whisper. And someone — maybe Lila, maybe others — would start pushing back.
But Skylar wasn't going to shrink from it.
Not this time.
Part 3 – First Period Fallout
Monday mornings were already bad. But this Monday felt like it had fangs.
Skylar stepped onto campus and instantly felt it — the weight of attention. Eyes cut toward her from behind lockers and half-zipped backpacks. Whispers followed her like a shadow.
She adjusted the strap on her shoulder bag and kept walking.
The halls felt longer than usual. Each step was louder in her head. She could hear the phantom echo of the concert's bass, the warmth of Jamie's hand, the soft brush of his lips.
But none of that prepared her for what waited outside homeroom.
Lila.
Leaning against the wall like it was hers. Perfect hair, flawless gloss, and that half-smile that never reached her eyes.
"Oh good," she said as Skylar approached, "I was hoping we'd talk."
Skylar slowed, jaw tightening. "Talk about what?"
Lila pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "About boundaries. And about how people forget them when they're desperate to matter."
The words were soft, almost sweet. But Skylar heard the venom buried underneath.
"I didn't realize dating someone meant I owed you an explanation," Skylar replied, steady.
Lila's lashes fluttered. "Oh honey, this isn't about me. It's about your sudden desire to play in leagues you've never trained for."
Skylar narrowed her eyes. "You mean Jamie? He's not a league. He's a person."
Lila's smile slipped — just a fraction, but enough to count.
"That's cute," Lila said, voice thinner now. "Just remember — people like you get chewed up fast in this kind of spotlight. And when it happens, don't expect applause."
With that, she turned and walked away, heels clicking on the tile.
Skylar exhaled slowly, pulse pounding.
A few students near the lockers were pretending not to watch. One girl caught her eye and looked quickly away. Another whispered to her friend, and both glanced down the hall in Jamie's direction.
Skylar didn't wait. She made her way to her locker, willing her hands not to shake as she spun the dial.
Before she could open it, a warm hand landed on the metal door beside hers.
Jamie.
"Hey," he said, voice low, like it was just for her.
Skylar gave him a small smile. "She found me."
"I figured she would."
"Is this what it's going to be like now? All of this?"
He looked at her for a long beat. "Probably."
She let out a humorless laugh. "Great."
"But," he added, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand, "you're not doing it alone. I meant it, Sky. I'm not going anywhere."
Skylar looked up at him. The hallway didn't vanish, the stares didn't stop — but her chest loosened a little.
"I'm not either," she whispered.
Jamie leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple — soft, sure, deliberate.
And this time, when the whispers swelled around them again, Skylar didn't flinch.