The days leading up to Friday felt like a countdown to an exam Layla hadn't studied for. Every time her phone buzzed, she felt a jolt of electricity that quickly soured into a dull ache when she saw Liam's name instead of Jade's. Liam was perfect, he checked in, he sent her song recommendations, and he told her how much he was looking forward to seeing her. He was the "Golden Boy" doing everything right, yet Layla felt like she was reading a manual in a language she was slowly forgetting.
Jade, meanwhile, had become a ghost. No window climbs. No cryptic texts. Just the occasional roar of his engine late at night that made Layla sit up in bed, staring at the wall they shared, wondering if he was as miserable as she was or if he had already moved on to "just chilling" with someone else.
Friday evening arrived with a drizzly Montreal sky. Sarah had come over after school to help Layla get ready, acting more like a coach than a friend.
"This is a fresh start, Layla," Sarah said, expertly applying a wing of eyeliner to Layla's lid. "No drama. No shadows. Just a nice dinner with a guy who actually respects you. Think of Thailand. Think of the future."
Layla looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a simple, elegant cream-colored wrap dress that made her look older, more grounded. She looked like the daughter her mother wanted her to be. But as Sarah zipped up the back of the dress, Layla's eyes drifted to the corner of her closet where Jade's leather jacket had sat only days before. The scent of it was gone, but the memory of the weight stayed.
"I know," Layla whispered. "I'm trying."
Liam arrived at 7:00 sharp. He looked incredible, dark jeans, a crisp button-down, and that easy, approachable smile that usually made Layla feel safe. He greeted Layla's mother at the door with a politeness that earned him a rare, approving nod.
"You look beautiful, Layla," Liam said as they walked to his car. He opened the door for her, a gesture so simple yet so pointedly different from Jade's "get in the car" commands.
As they pulled out of the driveway, Layla couldn't help it. She glanced at Jade's house. The lights were off, but for a split second, she thought she saw a silhouette behind the upstairs curtain. Her heart did a traitorous somersault, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the dashboard.
The bistro was exactly what Liam had promised, quiet, candlelit, and far away from the prying eyes of their high school social circles. Over appetizers, Liam talked about his plans for university and his hopes for the summer. He was attentive, asking about her writing and the latest chapters of her story.
"I read the new update," Liam said, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "The tension between the characters... it feels real. Like you're writing from a place of experience."
Layla felt a flush creep up her neck. "I guess I am. It's a lot of trial and error."
"Well," Liam said, his thumb grazing her knuckles, "I'm glad the error phase is over. I really want this to work, Layla. I've wanted this since the day you moved in."
It was the perfect thing to say. It was the "End Game" dialogue. But as Layla looked into Liam's kind, blue eyes, she realized with a cold shudder that she felt... nothing. No spark. No static. Just the quiet comfort of a blanket that didn't quite keep the chill out.
The "System Crash" happened during dessert. Layla's phone, sitting face-up on the table, lit up with a notification. It wasn't a text. It was a social media tag from one of the guys in Jade's group.
It was a video of a bonfire at the old quarry. The music was loud, the fire was raging, and there, in the center of the frame, was Jade. He was laughing, a drink in one hand and his arm thrown around a girl Layla didn't recognize, a girl with long, dark hair who was leaning into him exactly the way Layla had a few nights ago.
The world tilted. The sophisticated atmosphere of the bistro suddenly felt suffocating.
"Layla? Everything okay?" Liam asked, his brow furrowing in concern.
"I... I just need a minute," she stammered, standing up so quickly her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "The bathroom. I'll be right back."
She hurried to the restroom, locking herself in a stall and gripping the edges of the sink until her knuckles turned white. She pulled out her phone, re-watching the five-second clip until her eyes burned. Jade wasn't "taking things slow." He wasn't "hurting." He was doing exactly what he said, he was chilling.
She looked at her reflection. She was the girl in the cream dress, the girl on the "perfect" date, the girl following the rules. And she felt like she was dying inside.
When she walked back out, Liam was standing by the table, having already paid the check.
"Hey, you look pale," he said, stepping toward her. "Let's get you home. Maybe the vodka from the other night is still catching up to you."
The car ride back was a blur of Liam's gentle voice and the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers. When they reached her driveway, Liam turned off the engine and looked at her.
"I had a great time tonight," he said softly. He leaned in, and for a second, Layla thought about pulling away. But she didn't. She let him kiss her.
It was a good kiss. It was soft, sweet, and tasted like the expensive chocolate they'd shared. It was everything a first date kiss should be.
But as she stepped out of the car and watched Liam drive away, Layla didn't feel a rush of romance. She felt a devastating sense of finality. She turned toward her house, but her eyes were drawn, like a magnet to steel, to the dark driveway next door.
Jade's car wasn't there. He was still out. He was still with her.
Layla walked into her house, stripped off the cream dress, and threw it into the laundry basket with a force that made her arms ache. She sat on the edge of her bed in the dark, her phone gripped in her hand. She opened her messages, her thumb hovering over Jade's name.
She knew what the logical code said: Delete him. Move on with Liam. But as she typed the words "Where are you?" and hit send, Layla realized the system hadn't just crashed. She had burned it down herself.