Something changed last night—not just between me and Hayden, but inside me. And I can't explain it, but I think Sky senses it, too.

Morning light slices through the blinds, dust catching in the air between our beds, making everything look unfamiliar. There's still the faint, sour tang of old party drinks and sweat.

Her words come out the same—like everything's okay—but the way she looks at me, like she doesn't recognize me anymore, says something's off.

She's flat on her back, eyes glued to the ceiling. I'm pressed against the wall, studying her face, wishing I could crack it open and read what's inside.

The room is silent except for the occasional car passing by outside our window—cracked open—and the ceiling fan spinning lazily above us.

"Man, those pink drinks were no joke last night," I mutter, trying to break the ice, but even the sound of my voice seems awkward in the moment.

"Yeah, my head still hurts." Sky massages her temple.

"You were knocking them back," she throws in, finally flipping onto her side to face me—her eyes there, but distant.

"Yeah, but they tasted so good," I laugh, shrugging. "And you guys kept leaving them in front of me." I grin, watching as a small, faint flicker of amusement momentarily sparks to life—then fizzles back out.

"I can't believe Hayden was drinking," she sighs, propping herself up on the pillow behind her—a yawn forcing its way out.

"I've seen him have a few drinks before," I reply, thinking back to the comment he made about an accident—the one he quickly brushed off.

"Girl, he was shitfaced. He hasn't drunk that much in years," she counters, lowering her gaze. "He promised our parents he'd never get like he used to," she whispers, concern leaking into her voice.

"Then I heard he's the one who got into a fight with that football player. Like, what even happened?" She looks at me, eyes wide with worry.

"Did you hear what happened? Or see anything?" she presses, cocking her head to the side.

I stay silent for a moment, unsure how to respond.

The sickening sound of his fist colliding with Jeremy's face replays in my mind, and I feel the knot in my stomach tighten.

How can I tell her what happened without telling her why he did what he did—without telling her about my role in the moment?

"Yeah, I saw it," I force out, trying to keep my tone even. "But I didn't see what started it, just the ending," I lie, my gut plummeting like a stone.

"I saw the guy afterward. Hayden's lucky he didn't press charges or report him to the school," she grumbles, her brow furrowed.

"What's wrong with him?" She shakes her head, not waiting for my response. "And he's probably not even sorry," she mumbles to herself.

My mind goes back to the bathroom, the smirk he had on his face when he confessed he wanted to hurt the guy. "Look, he must've had a good reason to sucker punch him," I say, trying to downplay his actions. "And I was able to step in and break it up."

I clear my throat, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction, but she cuts me off before I can.

"What do you mean, you were able to step in?" she asks, pulling herself up until we're eye to eye.

"I, um..." I pause, mind racing. "I just meant that I was able to stop him and, you know, try to help him see he can't do things like that," I answer slowly, watching as her expression changes from curiosity to suspicion.

"Sky, it's not a big deal, really," I mutter. "I'd do it for any of you guys." I force a small chuckle, but it comes out weak even to my own ears.

"Uh-huh," she murmurs, narrowing her gaze on me. "So my brother, who never listens to anyone, just magically listened to you?" Her voice is low and full of doubt.

"Now why would he do that?" Her eyes are piercing, and even the pink scrunchie wrapped around her wrist seems sinister in the moment. "You sure there's nothing you want to tell me?" she probes, lips pressing together, eyes narrowing.

Every bone in my body screams for me to confess, to let it all spill out, but something inside me won't cooperate—my tongue's glued to the roof of my mouth, and I'm frozen, words failing me.

"No, there's nothing," I whisper, looking away from her, trying to escape the weight of my lie and the cold dread crawling up my spine.

"I really thought he'd changed," she whispers, sighing, before rolling back onto her back—eyes drifting to the ceiling fan. "Guess I was wrong," she sobs, her words broken.

The sharp blare of a car horn splits the silence. Everything feels brittle—secrets, trust. I don't deserve the quiet that follows.

Maybe I should just come clean.

I've done this before—with Johnny—nearly choking on secrets.

If we'd been honest from the start, maybe he'd still be here.

"Sky, listen—" I start, but a loud knock cuts me off.

She sighs and rolls out of bed, leaving me collapsed against the wall, grateful for even this brief reprieve.

"Damn, it's been a long time, but you're still just as gorgeous as I remember." A familiar, yet unplaced, male voice fills the room.

Frozen in disbelief, my mind has to be playing a trick on me. There's no way he could really be here. Could he?

Bracing myself, I slowly lift my head, eyes flying open, and air evaporates from my lungs.

"Zane," I choke, my brain trying to catch up with my mouth and eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I manage to gasp, mouth slightly ajar, my voice a hushed whisper.

"Waiting for you to come over here and give me a hug," he teases, his turquoise eyes twinkling, and that smile—that smirk that got me every time—spreading across his chubby face.

Standing beside my bed, he's changed so much, yet so little.

His once long, dark hair—shorter on the sides and worn in a man-bun—is buzzed close to his scalp.

His clean-shaven baby face sports a beard, adding an air of maturity to the face of my childhood best friend.

But his eyes—they remain the same, holding the same spark of innocence he's always had.

Slowly inching off the bed, my legs like jelly (and sore from last night), I make my way toward him, letting his strong arms wrap around me in a tight hug. "Long time no see," he whispers into the top of my head.

Each breath I inhale smells like home—like warm sunshine, fresh-cut grass, his momma's famous cookies, and memories I've long since buried.

"It's been forever," I reply, my voice hitching, as I let him hold me—my only lifeline to the life I left behind. "I never thought I'd see you again." The words barely come out before I feel the sting of tears building.

Why would he want to see me again—after what I did to him?

"I ran into your mom last week and told her where I was working," he says, holding me at arm's length, his eyes scanning my face—both of us taking each other in. "She suggested I come by and see you," he explains with a small smile. "Besides, I figured it was time we caught up."

He releases me and takes a seat on my bed, and his eyes flicker to Sky—who I'd forgotten was in the room—before returning to me.

"Zane, this is my best friend, Sky," I say, pointing toward her. "Sky, this is Zane—my oldest friend from back home." I introduce them.

"Nice to meet you," Zane says, offering his hand.

Sky smiles, slipping hers into his. "You too."

She sits back, silent, eyes flicking between the two of us, sizing him up.

He's dressed in his work clothes: a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeve red shirt with "Ryan and Bros Painting" printed across the front—two paintbrushes crisscrossed like an X at each end—and his name, Zane, embroidered diagonally above the logo.

A variety of colors—paint splatters and smudges—dot his clothes and paint-stained boots.

Sky's grin is sly. "You two have history, huh?"

"Where do you want me to start?" Zane laughs, glancing at me and winking.

"Don't tell her all my secrets," I laugh nervously, my face burning.

My heart aches, thinking about the stories he could tell—about who I was before, about the incident with Johnny, or what I did to him.

I knew he had feelings for me long before he realized them himself, but I also knew it'd never work—we were too different. I was wild, reckless, and out of control—doing drugs, drinking, and having sex with whoever, until Johnny happened.

Zane was sheltered—never even tasted beer, a virgin until college—he was too good for me, and I knew it.

"How about the time you pissed your pants at summer camp?" Zane grins, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"In my defense, I was only six, and those creepy cabin bathrooms scared the shit out of me," I laugh, shaking my head.

Curling up beside him, our shoulders touching, it almost feels like no time has passed as I settle in, listening to him relive the good times.

My mind fades, his words blending with Sky's laughter. I'm back there again—the night I left him.

After years of being my best friend, I finally gave in and gave him a chance. He was, as expected, a perfect gentleman. A man any girl would be lucky to have—he treated me like a queen, like in the fairy tales.

I wanted to love Zane back. I tried.

But he deserved someone whole, not the shards of me I could offer.

Johnny was the final nail in the coffin. I chose him—and the drugs, the excitement, the escape of it all—over Zane.

He was the good one. The one who cried the day I left. The one I hurt before I even knew I could. I can never tell him just how broken I was—that I left so he wouldn't have to watch me shatter.

And I didn't look back— until now.

"Bex," Sky's voice cuts through the fog, "Earth to Bex," she says, waving her hand in front of my face. "Are you listening to us?" she asks, smirking.

Nodding, I manage a weak smile. "Yeah, sorry, my bad," I say, clearing my throat—pushing the past back down. "I zoned out for a second."

"I asked Sky if you guys wanted to grab a bite to eat with me before I go back to the hotel," Zane clarifies, smiling, "I'm starving."

I laugh as he rubs his growling belly, making Sky giggle as she nods along with him, already slipping her shoes on.

"Come on, Bex," she urges, noticing my hesitation. "It'll help our hangovers," she adds with a smile. "Please!" she begs, making puppy dog eyes.

"Ugh, I guess," I agree, not really wanting to go. "I'm not that hungry, but I could use some fresh air," I lie, really needing to be alone with my thoughts—but that's not going to happen anytime soon.

Slipping my shoes on and grabbing my wallet, I toss my tangled hair up into a high ponytail. Several strands come loose, framing my face.

"Okay, I'm ready," I mumble, my mind still trapped in that small town, back in my old life—even though I thought I'd left it all behind—including Zane.

Following behind them, I fall back as they chat, my brain drifting between the two lives I live—I don't know how to confront the old with the new.

The night air is fresh and crisp, full of life—unlike the stale, suffocating air trapped in my lungs as I take my first step toward hopefully reclaiming my past and repairing some of the damage I've caused.

"Chinese or pizza?" Zane turns to me and asks, looking over his shoulder.

"I don't care, you pick," I reply, shrugging my shoulders. "You're the guest," I point out, as we stand at the corner of our busy street—cars whizzing past—horns honking in the background.

"So where's the best pizza place around here?" Zane asks, looking between us.

"At least I can pick where we eat," Sky laughs, pointing to the left. "There's a place down the street called 'Momma's Pizzeria."

Taking the lead, she walks ahead, with Zane in the middle—still talking to her—and me in the back—nursing my sore legs and even sorer heart.

"They're the best in town," Sky continues, not turning around. "It's like Subway or Chipotle—made right in front of you—and they have all sorts of toppings," she adds. "My favorite is the spicy Italian."

"Sounds good to me," Zane replies, not missing a beat. "As long as they have ranch, we're golden," he jokes, making Sky laugh.

She leads us to a cozy little restaurant right around the corner from our dorm—that I've never noticed before. Tucked between a burger joint and a 24-hour gas station, the aroma wafting from inside is mouth-watering.

"Momma's Pizzeria" is painted in bold red and green letters above the doorway, with a little red and white checkered awning above the entrance.

A couple of wooden chairs rest by the door outside, with a few small tables—each with a red and white checkered tablecloth and matching umbrellas.

Several people are in front of us, standing just before the entrance, waiting to be seated—all wearing "Greek Life" shirts, holding red cups.

"Looks like a party," Zane teases, nudging me gently as we slip in line behind them.

"Over here," Sky hollers, jumping up and down, waving to someone—assuming it's Hope, I don't bother turning around.

But the second the wind blows and I get a whiff of cologne, my heart hits the floor.

"I forgot to mention I invited my brother," Sky apologizes, as they step forward—my feet refusing to move.

"Are you going to move up?" Hayden whispers, stepping in line behind me, not touching me—but his presence wraps around me like a security blanket—making me feel things I shouldn't be feeling.

His arm touches mine as we both inch forward, the little crackle of electricity igniting something deep inside my chest.

"Thanks a lot, universe," I whisper—a cruel twist of irony that my past and present are colliding right in front of me—and there's no way to stop it.

"Zane, this is my brother Hayden," Sky introduces them, gesturing between the two men.

"Hayden, this is one of Bex's friends from back home, Zane," she adds as they exchange a stiff handshake, their faces tense.

Hearing those words come out of her mouth—the mention of Zane being here for me—his body stiffens beside me, those piercing blue eyes locking onto mine.

"Okay, now that introductions are over," Sky says, eyeing Hayden, "how about you tell me what happened last night?" She crosses her arms, glaring at him.

"So you want all the details about my night?" Hayden asks, raising his eyebrow, grinning at her.

His eye catches mine, and I can feel the heat rising beneath my cheeks—the memory of our moment in the bathroom igniting my body like a match to dry wood.

"No, I'm good on hearing about your little conquests," she quips. "I want to know about the fight," she presses, narrowing her eyes.

"What about it?" he mumbles, shrugging, as she slips her arm through his. "Some drunk guy was all over this girl, and she obviously wasn't feeling it, so I intervened," he explains—sticking to my carefully crafted half-truth.

But at the mention of some girl, my guts twist viciously—is that all I am to him?

"Sounds like the douche needed his ass kicked," Zane chimes in, as we finally reach the entrance and walk in. "I would've done the same thing," he adds, his eyes scanning the inside of the restaurant.

It's warm and welcoming—with the aroma of fresh dough and spices filling my senses.

The decor is homey—wooden tables with red and white checkered tablecloths, a large wooden counter with a sign reading "made to order" hanging above a large glass case.

Inside, there are a variety of cheeses, meats, and vegetables to use as toppings, and various jars of sauces line the shelves behind it—"build your own pizza" signs scattered here and there.

Several cooks wearing red and white checkered aprons are moving around, forming dough into balls, tossing pizzas in the air, and pulling them out of the brick ovens.

The atmosphere is lively, with orders being called out and the constant clanging of pots and pans.

Stepping forward, Sky points out her choice of toppings before moving on to Zane and Hayden—the girl behind the counter, whose apron reads "Italian Princess," spreads the sauce across the dough, sprinkles cheese over the top, and adds the toppings, handing it off to one of the cooks to put in the oven.

By the time I make my selection—spicy sauce, extra cheese, bacon, jalapeno, and pineapple—the trio has already moved to the drink station.

"Bex, what do you want to drink?" Zane asks, turning around, with Hayden right behind him, my heart stopping at the sight of them standing together.

"Sw...sweet tea, please," I mumble, finishing up my order as the girl behind the counter nods and makes a note before moving on to the man behind me.

Both—Hayden and Zane—are watching me as I approach, my eyes glued to the space between them.

"Thanks," I mutter, as they slide in on either side of the booth, leaving me to feel like I have to choose—the man who loves me or the one I'm falling for, who may or may not feel the same.

I wait for Sky to slide in first—taking the seat next to Hayden—leaving me with Zane.

I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him—keeping my eyes on the wooden table in front of me—my heart pounding in my throat.

Thankful our server arrives—an older man in his sixties with thin grey hair and bushy eyebrows—carrying a tray of steaming hot pizza. Placing each one down on the table in front of us, he plops a handful of sauces down in the middle of the table.

You kids enjoy!" he nods before heading back to the kitchen, grabbing another tray of food.

"Sky, I give it to you," Zane says with a grin. "You picked a great spot," he raves, his eyes looking around. "They don't have anything like this back home," he adds, nudging me playfully.

"No, they don't," I quietly reply, still trying to convince myself that this is all real.

"So how do you two know each other?" Hayden asks, taking a sip of his Pepsi, his blue eyes shifting between Zane and me.

"Oh, we go way back, since preschool," Zane comments, smiling. "We've been good friends for as long as I can remember, even after the breakup," he says, looking at me—the sting of my rejection still lingering in his eyes years later.

"You never told me you guys dated," Sky chimes in, leaning in, her eyes wide with interest.

Hayden looks like he swallowed something sour, his eyes narrowing on Zane. "Wow, so you two were together, how long? he presses, his pizza growing cold.

"We were young, and better off as friends," I jump in, not wanting to go down that road again.

The heat rises in the room. For a moment, I can't breathe.

It goes quiet as they all start to eat, but mine sits untouched between us.

"Bex, you good?" Zane whispers, dropping his arm around my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You zoned out again," he points out. "You've done that a couple of times. Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low.

Someone kicks me under the table, hard—either Sky or Hayden, but my money's on Hayden—whose eyes are watching me intently.

"Yeah, I have a massive hangover," I mutter, not a complete lie, "and I'm just a little overwhelmed," I confess, his arm still resting on my shoulders—heavy and light, both at once.

I wish they knew what was really wrong—they all think they know me, that they get it.

But they don't. Hell, I don't even know myself anymore.

I pick at a burnt edge of crust, flecks of cheese sticking to my thumb.

I'm thankful when the waiter arrives with boxes and the check. Zane and Hayden both reach for it, but Sky intercepts, tossing her card into the black folder without a glance.

My untouched pizza slides neatly into its cardboard container—"I'll eat it later," I promise, the lie bitter on my tongue, knowing it'll likely end up in the trash.

The air seems colder than before when we step outside—and much quieter. The streets are almost empty—only a few cars drive by—the sound of their engines fading as the light turns green, and then they're gone.

"My motel's this way," Zane nods, shifting his weight. Sky hugs him quickly, then steps back. "You sticking around long?" she asks, voice lighter than her eyes.

"A couple of weeks, maybe a month," he says, rubbing his chin. "Just depends on how long this job takes," he explains—his eyes drifting to me, "Maybe we can all hang out again before I leave?" he suggests.

"Yeah, that would be great," Sky says with a grin, before turning to me. "Hey, we'll be over there, waiting for you," she nods towards a picnic table sitting under a lone streetlight across the street from us.

Sky hums to herself, filling the silence I leave behind. "You gonna ghost me too, Bex?" she teases, but I hear the catch beneath her words.

Sky jumps up on the table, pulling her phone out, but Hayden stays standing, his eyes fixed in our direction.

I can feel them on me like a weight—or maybe a shackle—the air around me too heavy to breathe. The silence too loud—too intense to ignore.

"My bad, I didn't call first," Zane apologizes, breaking the stillness between us. "I honestly didn't think you'd answer," he mumbles, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets—the sound of change jingling seems to echo through the quiet night.

"I thought you hated me," I whisper, not daring to look at him.

"I could never hate you," he shakes his head, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with a warm grin.

Finally getting the nerve to look up at him, my gaze meets his, and I see the same little boy who proposed to me with a twenty-five-cent ring from the gumball machine at the laundromat.

His eyes still sparkle when he looks at me, his heart beating faster, and I can sense it.

"Bex, look at me, please," he whispers, stepping closer, his voice barely audible over my racing heart. "I've missed you so much," he confesses, his eyes shining with unshed tears—his words a sharp sting to my already wounded soul.

"I missed you, too," I whisper, my voice barely there.

I tread carefully, choosing my words like stepping stones.

My gaze falls to the pavement, the stain of my regret spreading before me. A single tear escapes, landing with a quiet splat.

"But I'm not that girl anymore," I stammer, his face blurring as I choke back the sob rising in my throat.

"You'll always be that little girl to me," he whispers, gently lifting my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I know you, the real you—the one hiding behind that mask," he says, his voice cracking with emotion.

His touch is safe, a ghost of who I used to be—before everything rotted away.

I'm reminded of the girl who never cried, always smiling—
the one who sang Christmas carols year-round,
who danced in the rain.

But she's gone, and I'd do anything to get her back—if that was even possible.

His lips brush against mine, gentle and slow—nothing like the fiery passion between Hayden and me. The tiny spark—a flame that flickers before going out—is nothing more than a sad reminder of all I've lost.

What did I expect?

This isn't magic. I'm not a princess—trapped in a tower—waiting for a prince to come and rescue me—

I'm the girl who ate the poison apple and fell into the darkest pits of hell. Alive.

I can't do this," I whisper, pulling away. The air feels heavier, sharp with cold and regret. He lets me go; I step back, my fingers tingling from where he touched me.

My heart cracks. I bolt—automatic, unthinking, eyes fixed on the nothing ahead, breath

But I don't look back—not at Zane, not at the mess I've made, not at the part of myself I keep trying to outrun.

I make it to Sky—who's waiting patiently for me—alone.

All alone—Hayden nowhere to be seen—and again I've screwed everything up, and history has repeated itself—I left Zane, watching me go with tears streaming down his face—and no explanation.

I slow as I reach the edge of the streetlight's glow, breathless and empty and so god-awful tired—of running, of hiding, of hurting the people who love me. Sky looks up, her phone forgotten in her lap, and studies my face with those knowing eyes.

I want to ask Sky for forgiveness, to beg Zane to let the past lie, to confess everything to Hayden—but all I do is run. Maybe I don't even know what I want. Just that it's not this.

Behind me, Zane's heart breaks all over again. Ahead, Hayden is gone—already swallowed by the night. I linger on the curb, teeth chattering, breath fogging in the cold, clutching a pizza box I'll never open.

I set the pizza box on the cracked concrete and sit beside Sky. She reaches for my hand, and for a second, I let her. The streetlamps flicker overhead. Across the street, Zane's shadow lingers until, finally, it's swallowed up by the dark.

My hands tremble. Not with cold, but with memory—like I'm clutching a live wire.

Some nights, I swear I can hear ghosts breathing down my neck—old friends, old mistakes, the girl I used to be.

They follow me everywhere. Especially when the world goes quiet, and there's nothing left but me and the truth I keep swallowing, over and over, waiting for it to stop burning.

Sitting here with her, the world silent, light fading, and shadows growing, I realize some things you can run from forever, and they'll always find you in the morning.