I hated that I still came.
After everything—the whispers, the stares, Aunt Linda's holy fire and brimstone—I still found myself here, knocking on Zion's door in the dark, where no one could see us.
I told myself it was the last time. The very last time.
Zion opened the door, but he didn't step aside immediately. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his gaze slow and deliberate, like he was searching for something.
Something to be mad at.
"You're late," he muttered.
I rolled my eyes and stepped past him anyway, my shoulder brushing his arm. "And so?"
The door shut behind me, the click sharp, final. Inside, the air was thick, restless—like something had been waiting for me.
I kicked off my slippers and perched on the edge of his bed, stretching my legs. He was still standing by the door. Still watching me.
Then he scoffed.
"You and Stephen seem to be getting pretty close these days."
Ah. So that's what this is.
I leaned back, tilting my head. "And so?"
"You don't even deny it."
"Deny what? That he holds my bag sometimes? That we sit together at the cafeteria? What exactly is paining you?"
Zion's jaw twitched. "I don't care who holds your bag, Jade."
I smirked. "Good, because I don't need your permission."
His lips pressed together. "Na wa o."
"Na wa for what?"
"For you. The way you act like you don't know how people see you." His tone was too casual, too lazy. "Like you don't know what they say."
Something sharp curled in my chest, but I forced my face to stay blank. "Oh? What do they say?"
He chuckled dryly. "You know nah. The whole school does." He turned slightly, eyes flicking over me. "Or did you forget? Maybe it's easy for you."
Heat crawled up my neck.
"I don't give a damn what people say," I said, my voice even. "But it's funny. How you keep bringing it up."
Zion shrugged. "Just funny. The way some people carry themselves like they're fresh, untouchable…" He trailed off, his eyes heavy with unspoken things. "When we all know they've already been seen… everywhere."
Silence.
The words hung in the air, thick, suffocating.
Seen. Everywhere.
He didn't say it directly, but he didn't have to.
The sex tape.
Something sharp and ugly pushed against my ribs, rising up my throat. I stared at him, my fingers curling into the sheets.
"You bastard," I whispered.
Zion didn't flinch. He just stood there, watching me, daring me to react.
So I did.
I stood up, slow and steady, stepping closer. "Say it properly, now. Since your mouth is itching, say what you really mean."
He didn't. Of course, he didn't.
Coward.
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "You know, it's funny. How you're always acting righteous outside. Acting like you don't know me in public. Like I disgust you. But in the night—" I took another step forward, my voice sharp, "—you still want me, don't you?"
His fingers curled into fists. "Jade—"
"But I get it." I cut him off. "You're a good boy, right? Pastor's son. You have a reputation to protect." I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. "Meanwhile, me? I'm just the dirty little secret you sneak into your room at night."
His nostrils flared. "That's not what this is."
"No?" I laughed again, low and cold. "Then what is it, Zion?"
He was quiet.
"Exactly."
I took a step back. The room felt too small, too tight, like I was suffocating inside it.
Zion exhaled, his voice quieter now. "Jade, don't twist this—"
"I could be with Stephen. I could be with a hundred men." My voice was steady now. Cold. "But you're the only one who keeps calling me back. You're the only one who wants me in the dark."
His mouth opened, then closed. He was breathing heavily now, but I didn't care.
I was done.
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.
"You think he's different?"
I froze.
Zion let out a humorless chuckle. "Stephen. You think he actually likes you?"
I turned back slowly. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
His eyes burned into mine. "Men like him… they don't want girls like you, Jade. They play with them." His voice dipped lower. "Maybe there's even a bet on you right now. Maybe he's just waiting for the right moment to—"
I cut him off.
"And you?" My voice was sharp. Dangerous. "Are you the one that likes me, Zion?"
Silence.
I let out a dry laugh. "At least Stephen is not afraid to be seen with me in public." My voice cracked at the end, but I pushed forward. "He doesn't flinch when people stare. He doesn't pretend I don't exist when the sun is up."
Zion's jaw clenched.
I stepped closer, pushing the knife in deeper. "He's not like you. He doesn't just want me in the dark."
His fingers twitched like he wanted to grab something. Like he wanted to grab me.
"Jade—"
But I was shaking my head now, something thick and heavy building in my chest.
"I'm tired of you," I muttered. "I'm so tired."
Then before I could think, before I could stop myself—
I slapped him.
Sharp. Loud. Final.
His face jerked to the side, his cheek blooming red where my palm had landed.
Silence.
Then, slowly, he turned his head back to me.
Something flickered in his eyes—not anger, not shock… but something else. Something deeper.
But I didn't wait to figure it out.
I was already at the door, already pulling it open.
The night air hit me like a wave, sharp and fresh.
I slammed the door behind me and kept walking.