Third-Person Limited – Kendra, then Dominic, then Kendra
Kendra had always imagined getting her cast removed would feel like a movie ending.
Triumphant music.
Slow-motion spin.
Freeze-frame on her victorious smile.
Instead, it felt like the clinic smelled: cold, bright, and a little terrifying.
The saw whined as it bit through the plaster.
"You're not cutting my arms off, right?" she asked for the third time.
Dr. Meyers smiled patiently. She said, "Still attached." "You'll feel the vibration, not the blade. I promise."
The plastic shield around the tool bumped her skin. Dust flaked into the air. The white shell that had been part of her for weeks cracked, split, and finally—
Fell away.
Her left arm looked… wrong.
Smaller.
Paler.
Wrist thinner, marked by faint lines where the breaks had been.
Fingers stiff and slow when she tried to flex them.
Her right arm followed.
By the time both casts were off, she felt strangely exposed, like someone had taken her armor and left all the weak spots out in the open.
"Okay," Dr. Meyers said, gently rotating each wrist. "Range of motion is good. Some stiffness is normal. Pain?"
"A little," Kendra admitted. "More when you bend it that way."
"Expected," the doctor said. "Your bones are knitted but not fully hardened yet. Think… wet clay. It holds shape but can still be damaged if you push too hard."
"So… no backflips," Kendra said.
"Exactly," Dr. Meyers replied, making a note. "For the next few weeks: no lifting anything heavy, no sports, no fights, and no 'robust activities.'"
Kendra squinted. "Define robust."
"Anything that might make me see you back here," Dr. Meyers said dryly.
She wrapped soft, flexible braces around both wrists—supportive, but not as suffocating as the cast.
"Wear these during the day," she instructed. "Take them off at night. Move your hands. Use them. But listen to them. If they hurt, ease up. Don't be a hero."
"Too late," Sofia muttered from the chair in the corner. "She's been a stubborn menace since birth."
Kendra ignored her.
She stared down at her hands.
Hands.
Not plaster.
Not scribbles and drawings.
Just hers.
Dark skin faded slightly where the casts had covered, faint indentations from padding and tape.
They didn't feel like they belonged to her yet.
She flexed her fingers again.
They trembled.
"Everything okay?" Dr. Meyers asked.
Kendra swallowed.
"Yeah," she said. "Just… weird."
"Give it time," the doctor said. "You've been in casts for weeks. Your brain needs to remember what 'normal' feels like."
Normal.
The word sat heavy.
Nothing about her life felt normal anymore.
Not school.
Not this town.
Not the boy waiting for her outside.
Saturday Night – New Hands, Old Habit
He was leaning against Sofia's car when they stepped out of the clinic, arms folded, eyes scanning the parking lot like he was on guard duty.
The second he saw her bare wrists, his whole face changed.
Relief first.
Then worry.
Then something like awe.
"You're free," he said.
"Parole," she corrected, lifting the newly braced arms. "Still under supervision."
He reached out automatically, then stopped himself, fingers hovering.
"Can I?" he asked.
"Touch my hands?" she said. "They're not radioactive."
He gave her a look.
She rolled her eyes and held one out.
His palm closed gently around her right hand, thumb brushing the edge of the brace.
Her skin tingled like they were back in the cafeteria, and he'd grabbed her wrist for the first time.
Except for now
Now she knew that feeling wasn't adrenaline or low blood sugar.
It was him.
Them.
Whatever.
"How do they feel?" he asked quietly.
"Weird," she said honestly. "Heavy and light at the same time."
He turned her hand over, studying her wrist like it was holy.
"Don't get creepy about it," she muttered.
He smiled.
"Too late," he said softly.
Later, at her house, the girls did a whole over-the-top celebration.
"Raise your hands if you're no longer break-happy," Sofia yelled, throwing confetti she'd somehow smuggled into the living room.
"Please stop saying break-happy," Jennie groaned.
They ate cake Sofia declared was a "Bone Freedom Cake." They made toasts. They took pictures—hands in the air, wrists flexed, goofy faces.
Kendra laughed.
She did.
But every time her gaze slid to Dominic, sitting on the arm of the chair or leaning over the back of the couch, it felt like the room narrowed.
He waited until the others drifted to the kitchen for second slices and third drinks.
She was checking her phone—pretending to read a message, really just avoiding the weird flutter in her chest—when he sat on the couch beside her, leaving a respectful gap.
"So," he said. "No more casts."
"No more built-in weapons," she said. "I'll miss them."
"Pretty sure everyone else won't," he replied.
She smirked.
He watched her flex her fingers.
"How's the pain?" he asked.
"Manageable," she said. "Like my friends. Annoying but tolerable."
He huffed a laugh.
Silence settled.
Not uncomfortable.
Not entirely comfortable either.
It hummed.
"So," she said casually, not looking at him, "kissing's going to be weird now."
He blinked. "What?"
"I mean," she went on. "Before, it was just you doing all the work. My hands were just… there. Now I have options. I can do something. Or punch you in the middle by accident."
"You're thinking about logistics," he said slowly, "of kissing."
"Some of us are planners," she replied.
He turned slightly to face her.
"If you want to… test the logistics," he said softly, "we can."
Her heart tripped.
"You're unbelievable," she muttered.
"Rule still stands," he reminded her. "You say no, I stop. You say yes…"
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
She swallowed.
Her wrists ached a little—new freedom, overused muscles—but her hands felt almost desperate to prove they were back.
She put her phone down carefully.
Slowly, she lifted one hand.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached up and curled them into the fabric of his hoodie, just above his chest.
His eyes darkened.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Shut up," she whispered.
He did.
He leaned in.
This kiss felt different from all the others.
Not because of his mouth—though yeah, that was still annoyingly perfect.
Because of her hands.
Her fingers tightened in his hoodie, pulling him closer. Her other hand slid hesitantly up his arm, curve of his bicep under her palm, warmth soaking into her skin like heat through ice.
He made a low sound in his chest when she did that—half surprised, half wrecked.
She felt it against her lips.
Her pulse spiked.
For a second, she forgot about bone density charts and doctor warnings.
Her wrists protested.
She backed off the pressure, adjusting her grip, listening to her body the way the doctor had told her to.
He pulled away first.
Breathing a little faster.
His forehead rested against hers.
"How's that for logistics?" he murmured.
"Needs practice," she said, voice a little rough.
His mouth curved.
"I'm available for drills," he said.
"Of course you are," she replied, shoving his shoulder lightly.
Her wrists twinged.
She ignored it.
She'd rest them later.
For now, she had her hands back.
And she was using them to hold onto something that scared her almost as much as the fall had.
Maybe more.
Sunday Night – Drop
Kendra was halfway through an episode of some action show when her phone buzzed.
Maya: You up?
Kendra: Barely. Why?
Maya: Check @GarrisonTea. Now.
Her stomach dipped.
She opened the app.
The newest post sat at the top of the feed.
📸 BREAKING: DOMINIC & THE EXCHANGE GIRL
Posted 10:37 p.m.
The picture wasn't crystal clear, but it didn't need to be.
It showed the hallway by her locker on that rainy day.
Two figures.
Her, backed against the metal.
Him, leaned in, hand braced beside her head.
Their faces were a little blurred, but not enough.
You could still see it: his mouth on hers.
Their bodies angled close like magnets finally doing what they were built to do.
The caption read:
Looks like Joint Service wasn't the only thing going on after school 👀
Is our favorite Garrison off the market… with the new girl??
Thoughts. Opinions. Screaming.
The comments were already piling up.
NO WAYKnew itKarina is going to MURDER THEMPlot twist: she was his rebound the whole timeomg they're kind of cute?? don't @ me
Her chest clenched.
The world narrowed to the little glowing screen.
Her first thought wasn't about the school.
Or the gossip.
Or even Karina.
It was: Dom.
She texted him.
Kendra: You see the post?
He replied almost immediately.
Dominic: Yeah.
Dominic: You okay?
She stared at the question.
Was she?
Her heart raced.
Her hands felt simultaneously too big and too small.
Kendra: I don't know.
Dominic: I'm coming over.
She almost typed no.
Almost typed don't.
Almost typed I need space.
Instead, she shoved the phone down and paced.
By the time he knocked on the front door, her head was buzzing.
Sofia opened it.
"Hey," she said, taking one look at his face. "She's in the living room. Be gentle or I'll break your other bones."
"Noted," he muttered.
Kendra was standing in the middle of the room like she'd forgotten how to sit.
He held up his phone.
"Okay," he said. "Let's… talk."
She barked a laugh.
"About what?" she demanded. "About the fact that the whole school just saw me kissing you. About the fact that I look like a walking cliché. About the fact that everyone's going to think I stole you from your ex like some homewrecker?"
His jaw clenched.
"You didn't steal me," he said. "You didn't wreck anything. I broke up with her weeks ago."
"Does she know that?" she snapped.
"Yes," he said. "She just doesn't want to accept it."
"Well, she's about to have a new mood," Kendra muttered. "It's going to be violence."
He stepped closer.
"Hey," he said, softer. "Look at me."
She did.
His eyes were steady.
Calmer than hers.
"I won't let them touch you," he said. "Not Karina. Not the rumors. Not anyone."
She scoffed. "You can't punch the internet."
"No," he said. "But I can stand next to you when it explodes."
Her stupid heart did that swoopy thing again.
She hated it.
She loved it.
She was exhausted.
"Everyone's going to stare tomorrow," she said quietly.
"I know," he replied.
"They're going to talk," she added.
"I know," he said again.
"They're going to call me names," she said.
"Then they'll deal with me," he said, voice turning steel.
She believed him.
She didn't know what that said about either of them.
"Dom," she said, voice small. "I don't… regret it."
His expression softened.
"The kissing," she clarified quickly, because apparently her mouth hated her.
One corner of his mouth lifted. "Good," he said. "Because I don't either."
Silence wrapped around them.
"Tomorrow's going to suck," she said.
"Probably," he agreed.
She took a breath.
Straightened her shoulders.
"Okay," she said. "Then we walk in together."
He blinked. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she said. "If I'm going to be burned at the stake, I'm not doing it alone."
Something like pride flickered in his eyes.
"Deal," he said.
Monday – Fire
Walking into school with Dominic felt like walking into an arena.
The second they stepped through the front doors, conversations dipped.
Heads turned.
Whispers started.
She caught snippets:
"That's her—"
"—saw the post—"
"—poor Karina—"
"—kind of iconic—"
She kept her chin high, her new braces snug around her wrists, her hand hovering just close enough to his that if she needed to, she could grab on.
She didn't.
Not yet.
He walked half a step closer than usual.
His friend group—Robin, Antonio, the others—waited near his locker, eyes flicking between them with varying levels of amusement and concern.
Robin gave a low whistle.
"So, it's official-official now," he said. "Not just shadow realm official."
"Shut up," Dominic muttered.
"Morning, Kendra," Antonio said, more gently. "You holding up?"
"Barely," she said. "But I look good doing it."
He smiled. "True."
They were halfway to her locker when Maya popped up like a jump scare.
"Hey," she hissed, falling into step beside Kendra. "You ready for World War Karina?"
"No," Kendra said honestly.
"Cool," Maya replied. "Me neither. But if she tries anything, I still got hands."
Kendra's lips twitched.
She appreciated backup.
Even when it felt like they were all just waiting for a bomb to go off.
First period.
Second.
No Karina.
Kendra's tension coiled tighter with every class.
Maybe she isn't coming, she thought.
Maybe she won't—
Third period, Kendra rounded a corner and froze.
Karina Frost stood in the middle of the hallway like a storm given human form.
Perfect hair.
Perfect makeup.
Perfectly furious.
She hadn't been at school for three weeks.
Everyone knew it.
Rumors said she was "sick."
Rumors also said she was "devastated," "planning revenge," and "definitely not done with Dominic Garrison."
Now she was back.
And her eyes were locked on Kendra.
The crowd parted without being asked.
Students pulled out their phones.
Kendra's stomach dropped.
Karina started walking.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Every step clicked against the tile.
"Kendra," Dominic said quietly from beside her. "Stay behind me."
She moved to step around him instead.
"Not happening," she muttered.
He cursed under his breath.
Karina stopped a few feet away.
Up close, she was even more intimidating.
Tall.
Sharp.
Cold eyes rimmed in flawless eyeliner.
"You," she said.
Kendra arched a brow. "Me," she replied. "Good morning to you too."
Karina's gaze raked over her.
"The foreign charity case," she said. "The one who got pity picked for the program. The one who broke her arms and acted like it was a personality."
"Wow," Kendra said. "You've been rehearsing."
Karina ignored that.
She turned her head slightly, eyes finding Dominic.
He'd stepped up beside Kendra now, not in front of her. Close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
"You didn't answer my calls," Karina said, voice tight. "You didn't answer my texts. You broke up with me in a parking lot and then just… disappeared."
Color rose on Dominic's neck.
The crowd leaned in.
"Karina," he began carefully, "we talked about—"
"You told me you needed space," she snapped. "You told me it was complicated. And then I opened my phone last night and see you playing tongue hockey with her in the hallway?"
The murmurs spiked.
Kendra's cheeks burned.
"Breakup sounds pretty clear to me," she said. "If you got to rely on gossip accounts for closure, that's a you problem."
Karina's head snapped back toward her.
"And you," she said, voice dropping into something dangerous. "You think you won, don't you?"
Kendra's jaw tightened.
"I don't remember entering," she replied. "Maybe sit this one out, Frosty."
Karina smiled then.
Sharp.
Mean.
"Do you know what it's like," she asked, "to watch everything you built get taken by someone who doesn't belong here? To have your boyfriend trade you in for a project?"
Heat flared in Kendra's chest.
"Do you know what it's like," she shot back, "to move to a whole other country and get treated like trash by a girl whose biggest problem is her contour not blending?"
A few kids snickered.
Karina's hand twitched.
"Stay calm," Maya whispered near Kendra's shoulder.
Too late.
Karina took a step closer.
"You're nothing," she hissed. "A temporary experiment. A foreign joke. When this is over, you'll go back to your little island and he'll still be here, with us. With people who actually matter."
Kendra's vision narrowed.
Her fingers curled.
Everything she'd taken for weeks—slime, whispers, milkshake, stares—crashed into that one word.
Nothing.
"Careful," Kendra said, voice low. "You're talking like he's a prize. He's the person who chose to leave you. Maybe ask yourself why."
The crowd oooooh'd quietly.
Karina's eyes flashed.
She moved.
Fast.
She shoved Kendra hard in the shoulder.
Not enough to knock her down.
Enough to jolt her wrists and send a sharp spike of pain up both arms.
Kendra stumbled back a half step.
Her braces dug into her skin.
Doctor's voice: no fights, no robust activities.
Her anger: absolutely not.
"Frost," Dominic snapped. "Back off."
Karina laughed.
"What?" she said. "You only care now that she doesn't have casts to cushion the fall?"
Something snapped in Kendra.
Months of biting her tongue.
Weeks of being careful.
Days of pretending she didn't care.
She stepped forward, closing the space between them.
"You wanted me without casts?" she said. "Congratulations. You got me."
Karina smirked. "What are you going to do?" she taunted. "Cry? Run to Dom? Ask him to fight for you?"
"No," Kendra said.
And then she swung.
It wasn't her best hit.
Her wrists protested the second her fist connected with Karina's shoulder and not her face like she'd aimed for, pain shooting up to her elbow.
But the force still knocked Karina sideways.
Gasps.
Phones went up higher.
"Oh my God," someone whispered. "She actually hit her."
Karina recovered fast.
She launched back with a shriek, grabbing a fistful of Kendra's braids and yanking.
Sharp pain stabbed her scalp.
Kendra hissed and grabbed Karina's wrist with both hands, prying her fingers loose, stepping in to ram her shoulder into Karina's chest.
They staggered.
Karina clawed at Kendra's arm, nails scraping skin.
Kendra hooked a foot behind Karina's ankle and shoved.
Karina went down hard.
The crowd erupted.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
"Guys!" Jennie yelled somewhere. "Stop it!"
"Kendra!" Sofia screamed. "Your wrists!"
She didn't hear them.
Not really.
Her world had shrunk to Karina's red lipsticked sneer and months of humiliation burning in her veins.
Karina scrambled up, lunged, and they crashed together again—hands, elbows, hair, wild grabs and shoves.
Kendra's wrists screamed with every impact.
She ignored them.
She'd wanted this for so long.
Wanted to put hands-on Karina and make her feel even a fraction of the frustration she'd caused.
Karina swung a hand, nails catching Kendra's cheek.
A tiny bloom of heat, then sting.
Kendra saw red.
She drove forward, knocking Karina back into a row of lockers with a hollow clang, forearm across her collarbone—not full weight, but enough to pin.
"I told you," Kendra spat, breath ragged, "if you ever came for me again, I'd break something you actually care about."
Karina clawed at her wrist braces, trying to yank them.
"Get off me, you—"
Hands seized Kendra around the waist.
Strong.
Unyielding.
She was lifted bodily off Karina and hauled backward, feet slipping against the floor.
"Enough!" a voice roared in her ear.
Not a teacher.
Dominic.
He spun her away from the lockers, keeping his body between her and Karina.
She twisted in his grip, adrenaline roaring.
"Put me down!" she snarled. "I'm not done!"
"You're done," he snapped. "Your wrists are done. You want to undo all the healing in one day?"
His words cut through the haze.
Pain flared full force as the adrenaline dipped.
Her wrists throbbed in time with her heartbeat, a low, insistent ache turning sharp.
Karina pushed herself upright, hair mussed, smudged makeup, breathing hard.
The hallway buzzed with energy.
A ring of students circled them, phones out, eyes wide.
Someone shouted, "Teacher coming!"
No one moved.
Karina's gaze fixed on Dominic's hands.
Wrapped around Kendra's waist.
Holding her like she was something to protect.
Something precious.
"You cheated on me with her," Karina said, voice shaking. "You humiliated me and cheated on me with her."
"No," Dominic said, voice low but carrying. "I didn't."
She laughed, ugly and sharp. "You expect me to believe that?" she demanded. "You expect everyone to believe that? That you just… what? Magically fell on her lips after breaking my heart?"
Kendra felt everyone's eyes shift between them.
Waiting.
Judging.
Dominic's grip tightened fractionally.
"Kendra didn't steal me," he said, louder now. "And I didn't cheat on you."
Karina scoffed. "Then what do you call this?" she snapped, gesturing between him and Kendra. "What do you call showing up with her every day, carrying her stuff, acting like she's the only girl in this entire school?"
Silence pooled.
His next words came out like they'd been pulled from somewhere deep and inevitable.
"I call it what it is," he said.
He stepped slightly to the side, so he was no longer partly behind Kendra, but next to her.
His hand stayed at her waist.
His jaw was set.
His eyes were tired and fierce at the same time.
"Kendra didn't replace you," he said to Karina, to the crowd, to the whole damn hallway. "She didn't take anything from you. Because what she is to me…"
His throat worked.
Robin and Antonio went still.
Two of his other friends sucked in a breath, like they knew what was coming.
He met Karina's eyes, then glanced down at Kendra for a flicker of a second.
Finally, he said it.
"She's, my mate."
The word dropped into silence like a stone.
Mate.
The hall went even quieter.
Karina went pale.
His friends stared.
Some kids looked confused.
Others—wolves lurking under human faces, even if Kendra couldn't see it—stiffened.
Kendra's brain stuttered.
Mate?
What?
Like… boyfriend?
Like… partner?
Like… dog?
The word felt heavy in the air, strange and sharp, as if it carried more weight than just something a boyfriend might say when he was being dramatic.
Karina shook her head, lips curling.
"Don't you dare," she spat. "Don't you dare stand there and say that with her."
Dominic didn't flinch.
He didn't look away.
He just repeated, voice low and absolute,
"She's, my mate."
And for the first time since she'd come to this school, since she'd fallen, since she'd woken up in casts and let him into her life—
Kendra realized there was a whole layer of him she still didn't understand.
And she had just been dragged into the dead center of it.