I avoided Malik for two straight days. Not in the obvious way, like ducking behind lockers,sprinting down hallways or eating in the classroom. More like casual redirections—changing routes, sticking with Kayla like glue, and conveniently leaving school a little earlier than usual.
It wasn't that I was afraid exactly. It was just that I didn't know what he would say. Or worse—what he'd do.
Unfortunately, Malik noticed.
After school on Thursday, Kayla had basketball practice, and I figured I could slip out quietly. But he was already waiting outside the school gates, leaning on his stupid red motorcycle like he thought he was some kind of rebel heartthrob in a teen drama.
"Imani," he called out, smooth and sharp. "We need to talk."
I acted like I didn't hear him, kept walking.
He pushed off the bike. "Hey. Don't walk away from me."
I spun around. "What? what do you want, Malik?"
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You've been ghosting me."
"Maybe I've been busy."
"Busy huh? fake-dating Chinatown?" His voice rose slightly.
My heart stung. "He's got a name."
He stepped closer, the playful mask gone. "You know this isn't funny anymore, right?"
"Neither is cheating on me."
That's when it happened—his hand snapped out, gripping my wrist tight, too tight. I gasped. He leaned in, his voice low and venomous, his eyes fierce
"You think you can humiliate me and just walk away?"
I tried pulling back, but his grip didn't loosen. I saw a couple of students in the distance, but no one close enough to notice.
"Let go of my arm or I will scream," I whispered.
He didn't. Not until he looked into my eyes and saw I wasn't bluffing. Then he shoved my arm away, disgusted. "You're lucky, might not be so lucky next time."
I didn't say anything else. I walked away, fast, heart pounding refusing to rub the pain, even as my wrist throbbed.
---
That night, I used foundation to cover the bruise. The next morning, I wore a hoodie even though it was 29 degrees. I pulled the sleeves past my knuckles, ignored Kayla's questions, and avoided Noah's eyes entirely.
But I could feel his gaze on me all day.
During lunch, I sat with Kayla and made some excuse about cramps. Kayla bought it. Noah didn't.
He dropped his chopsticks halfway through eating and leaned closer. "You're being weird."
"Thanks."
"I'm serious," he whispered. "You've been off since yesterday. What happened?"
"Nothing."
"You're wearing a hoodie in the heat, and you keep flinching when someone gets too close. That's not nothing."
I sighed. "its nothing i'm just tired, Noah."
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't push it. For the rest of lunch, though, he didn't look away from me once.
---
After school, I took the long route home again. I waited until the hallway cleared, until most of the noise from students faded into silence. I thought I was alone.
But Malik was waiting near the back exit.
"You trying to avoid me now?" he said, stepping in front of me.
I took a step back. "Move."
He smirked. "Come on, babe. We just need to talk."
"Don't call me that."
He grabbed my shoulder, rougher this time. "You think you can walk around acting all innocent when you were never—"
"Let. Me. Go."
"I don't think so—"
"Get your hands off her."
The voice was low, deadly, and right behind us.
Noah.
He strode forward, fists clenched. Malik released me just in time to catch Noah's punch straight to the jaw.
The next few seconds were chaos. Malik swung back, but Noah ducked. I screamed. They tumbled into a locker bank, and Malik grabbed Noah's hoodie, slamming him backward.
"Noah, stop!" I yelled, trying to get between them.
Malik stumbled and fell, cursing, and Noah stood over him, panting, his cheek red and lip bleeding slightly.
"This isn't over," Malik growled before scrambling off.
Noah turned to me, breathing hard. "Are you okay?"
I couldn't answer. The tears came fast, and I didn't even know why. He reached out, but I flinched.
"Come with me," he said softly.
---
We snuck into the boys' locker room. It was empty at this hour. Noah sat on the bench, wincing as he peeled off his hoodie.
I sat beside him and pulled tissues from my bag. "Hold still."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," I said, dabbing the blood on his lip.
He stared at me. "You should've told me."
I paused. "I didn't want anyone to know. I was embarrassed. And scared."
He nodded slowly. "I hate him."
"Yeah, well, I hate him too."
We sat in silence for a moment. The tension was thick, not uncomfortable—but charged.
He reached for my sleeve. "do you mind if I see it?"
I hesitated, then pulled the fabric up.
A deep purple bruise ringed my wrist. His jaw tensed.
"Imani…"
"It's okay," I lied.
"No. It's not."
I looked at him, really looked at him. "Why'd you follow me?"
"Because I knew something was wrong."
I lowered my voice. "And you got hurt because of me."
"I'd get hurt a hundred times for you."
That line hit harder than I expected. We were so close now. His face inches from mine. I could feel his breath.
We didn't kiss. But we could've. It was right there.
Then the door creaked.
We both jumped apart as a janitor peeked in. "Y'all can't be in here."
"Sorry!" I squeaked, grabbing my bag.
Noah stood, still looking at me like he wasn't ready for this moment to end.
We left quickly, but something had changed. I knew it. And I was pretty sure he knew it too.
---