Homecoming week. Spirit week. The entire school was buzzing with excitement, and yet, I couldn't bring myself to care. I had no interest in any of it. Pajama Day was today, and honestly, it was the only reason I put in minimal effort—throwing on an oversized hoodie and sweats, blending into the background like I always did. Let's call it a lazy Monday for me.

Since Friday, since Eli, since the alleyway and the secret he was now keeping, I had been trying to process everything. I had spent the weekend doing exactly what I always did—alone. My parents had been home briefly, which was surprising, but they were busy working as usual. Even with them physically in the house, they might as well have been miles away. They barely interacted with me, aside from my mom shoving some money in my hand, telling me to "buy something nice." Like that somehow made up for everything.

It was a reminder of why I never let people in.

Jack Carter was another reminder.

The weekend had blurred by, and today, Monday morning, the halls were filled with homecoming energy—people dressing up, hyping the upcoming dance, the football game, the parade. But all I could think about was that I had two major problems.

One: Jack.

Two: The full moon approaching.

And out of those two, Jack was the easier one to deal with.

I had avoided him all weekend, even changing my usual routine. Instead of The Cozy Corner, I went to Waves and Whispers. Elara had already grown used to my presence, and Eli—he didn't hover, but he kept an eye on me. He didn't interact much, but I knew he was watching, making sure I was okay. Like I needed his protection.

I had dodged Jack at every possible turn—skipped AP English on Friday, blended into crowds, even let Brooke's flirting keep him occupied long enough for me to disappear down the hall.

But today was different.

Because today, I was back in AP English, and I knew Jack had been waiting for this moment.

Something about the classroom felt different. Maybe it was the extra energy buzzing from homecoming, or maybe it was the fact that Brent looked like he was one step away from losing it completely. People gave him space, avoiding his sharp glares, and I overheard Olivia—his project partner—complaining that he wanted to work alone, but Ms. Daniels had refused. It made me wonder what had happened over the weekend.

Whatever it was, I hadn't been around to hear about it. I had been too busy learning more about the full moon, digging into mermaid legends.

And maybe scrolling through Jack's Instagram.

Not because I cared.

Just curiosity.

He had spent the weekend having a great time with his friends, posted pictures of him flirting with some girl, and that just proved my point—he detached, like always.

I had known he would.

It was why I avoided him.

So why was he still here?

The moment I dropped into my usual seat, Jack appeared beside me, casual as ever, like he had been waiting for the perfect moment to corner me.

I didn't look at him.

Didn't acknowledge him.

I flipped open my notebook, forcing myself to focus, even though I could feel him watching me.

The silence stretched.

Then, Jack spoke.

"So. You done avoiding me?"

I tightened my grip around my pen, inhaling slowly. "Nope, not avoiding you. Just surviving my sophomore year. I'm treating it like any other school year."

Avoid. Invisibility. Keep to myself. It had worked before I was paired with Jack Carter. It should still work now.

Jack let out a soft, amused scoff. "Right. You just conveniently skipped class on Friday. And conveniently walked the other way every time you saw me."

I clenched my jaw. "Who doesn't skip class?"

Jack leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. "I highly doubt you skip class. With the way you are and seeing your personality, you're too much of a goody-two-shoes to just ditch."

Damn. He had a point.

But I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

I exhaled sharply. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jack's brows lifted slightly, his expression unreadable. "You really expect me to believe that?"

I finally looked at him, and I regretted it instantly.

Jack Carter had this way of looking at people like he saw more than they wanted him to. It was infuriating.

I shrugged, keeping my voice flat. "Believe what you want, Carter."

Jack studied me, his gaze sharp, but his smirk softer than usual. "Huh."

I frowned. "What?"

He tapped his pen against his notebook, head tilting slightly. "Nothing. Just... didn't expect you to run from me."

My stomach flipped.

I scowled. "I don't run from people."

"Interesting. If you weren't running, then what were you doing on Friday during school?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

I clenched my jaw. Okay. Fine. I was running. But it wasn't because of him. Not entirely.

Jack stretched his legs out under the desk, his voice easy. "So, we gonna actually finish this project, or are we gonna keep pretending like nothing happened?"

I folded my arms. "More like finish this damn project so we can go back to our lives from before we even got paired up and pretend that nothing happened. Easy enough."

Jack snorted, shaking his head. "Well, we still have questions to go through, we need to make sure our notes are solid, and we have to prepare for our presentation. So no, I'm not letting my grades slip. And like I said, you're a straight-A student, so we need to do well."

Great. Of course, Jack had to care about his grades. Why couldn't he be like those typical popular guys in books and TV—dumb jocks who don't care about their grades and expect the nerd to do all the work? That would be easier. But no. Jack had to be the smart guy, the responsible one, the one who actually tries.

I let out a long sigh. He was right. We were making progress, but the project still needed more writing, more meetings, and questions that still needed to be answered. It wasn't something we could just coast through.

The finish line wasn't as close as I'd hoped, which meant one thing—I'd be stuck working with Jack Carter for a while longer.

Jack flipped open his notebook, tapping his pen against the desk. "Alright. Your turn."

I glared. "Hold up. I answered my questions. Those should be good enough for you. And I still need answers from you. You're pretty vague yourself."

Jack smirked. "Unlike you, I actually gave decent answers. I'm an open book."

I scoffed. "Open book, huh? Yeah, right."

Jack chuckled. "You still haven't answered my question, though."

I frowned. "What question?"

He tilted his head slightly. "Why'd you like me last year?"

My breath caught. "Next question."

Jack leaned in slightly. "You said you watched me from afar. I just wanna know why."

I clenched my fists. "Look, you detach anyway. That's your thing, right? So just forget about it. Forget what I said. There are plenty of other girls waiting for you."

Jack's smirk faltered—just barely.

Something flickered across his face, too fast to catch. Then, he recovered, tilting his head slightly. "You really think I'm that predictable?"

I gave him a flat look. "Yeah, actually. I do."

Jack didn't smirk this time. He studied me, longer than before, like he was seeing something he hadn't expected.

Before I could decipher that look, the bell rang.

He walked past me, pausing just for a second before muttering, "You don't know me as well as you think you do, Morales."

And then he was gone.

That was even worse.

I can't do this. I needed a breather, something to ease my mind because apparently, that conversation had thrown me off more than I wanted to admit. I can't keep reacting like this around Jack Carter. I can't let myself keep saying his full name in my head like he's some kind of god. He isn't.

God, I need to stop saying his last name.

It's just Jack.

Jack, who isn't supposed to matter. Jack, who I was supposed to be getting over.

So why the hell did I confess? That was supposed to be a secret crush, buried and forgotten.

The moment AP English ended, I didn't bother going to my usual spot in the cafeteria. I didn't want to deal with the crowd, the loud chatter, the suffocating energy of homecoming week. I didn't want to sit anywhere near Jack's group, see Brooke throwing herself at him, or worse—see Jack himself acting like our conversation never happened.

The cafeteria used to be my safe place, where I could observe people from afar. It was where I had watched Jack in the background, admired him in secret, and never once thought he'd actually notice me.

Now, everything was different.

Now, I was on everyone's radar.

And all I wanted was to be invisible again.

Instead, I slipped into the school library, where I could actually think without Jack watching me like I was some puzzle he was trying to solve.

Because that's exactly what it felt like.

He wasn't detaching.

I thought by now, after what I said, that he would have dropped me. I expected him to treat me the same way he treated every girl who wanted something from him—he detached, moved on, never looked back. I expected people to talk, expected whispers about how I had been paired with Jack for the project and confessed my past crush.

But there was nothing.

Not a single person had said anything.

Even Brooke hadn't acknowledged it, which was fine by me.

The problem wasn't other people.

The problem was that Jack didn't detach.

And that made me feel exposed.

I still didn't understand why he had to push the confession. He could have let it slide, pretended it never happened—like I wanted him to. Instead, he was still here, still lingering, still acting like it mattered.

And I hated that.

I needed to build higher walls before he got any closer.

Shaking off the frustration curling in my chest, I made my way toward the back of the library, settling into an empty corner near the tall shelves. It was quiet here, isolated—the perfect place to get lost in my own world.

I pulled out my laptop and external hard drive, plugging it in as I opened my vlogging files.

This was what kept me sane.

Something about editing videos calmed me. The way I could piece moments together, tell a story that no one else would ever see. Because that's exactly what they were—a secret diary.

They weren't for public use.

They were mine.

Some were random clips of places I liked—Eclipse Bay, the ocean, the moon pool. Others were old vlog-style recordings, where I had actually spoken into the camera, pretending I had an audience that didn't exist.

And then there were the personal ones—the ones I actually re-watched. The ones that reminded me how much I had grown.

I started this back in sixth grade, fascinated by content creators and influencers, but I had never shared them. Not even once. It had become a way to create a second persona—a version of myself that existed only in these videos. A version of me that wasn't just the invisible girl.

I sighed, scrolling through my files, clicking into my recent footage.

A few clips from the past weekend popped up—one of the moon over Eclipse Bay, another of me sitting near the docks, talking quietly about how everything felt like it was changing too fast.

I hovered over that one for a second.

Then, I clicked play.

On the screen, I appeared, the dim lighting of the bay casting soft shadows across my face. My voice came through the speakers, uncertain, quiet.

"So, there's this guy... I think he's cute. But too bad he doesn't notice me."

My stomach dropped.

Wait. What?

I scrambled to pause the video, my eyes widening.

When did I record this?

I pressed play again, my younger voice filling the silence.

"I don't know his name, but I know he's a sophomore."

Holy. Shit.

This was from last year.

This was the first time I ever saw Jack.

I stared at the screen in horror, watching as my past self gushed about how cute he was, how popular he was, how he would never notice me. I even mentioned that he had a girlfriend.

God, I was cringing so hard I wanted to throw my laptop across the room.

I was so focused on dying of secondhand embarrassment that I didn't notice the presence behind me—

Until I heard his voice.

"Didn't think you'd be the type to keep them all to yourself, Morales."

I stiffened.

My entire body locked up.

I immediately slammed my laptop shut, my pulse spiking as I turned my head just enough to confirm my worst nightmare.

Jack.

Standing right behind me.

Leaning casually against the bookshelf, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place.

My heart lurched into my throat.

Holy shit.

I hope he didn't see what I was watching.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, keep my heartbeat steady. "Do you make it a hobby to sneak up on people?"

Jack's smirk widened slightly. "Only when they're doing something interesting."

I scoffed, shoving my laptop back into my bag. "Well, I'm not an interesting person, so maybe you should leave."

Jack shrugged, his eyes flickering to my hard drive before meeting my gaze again. "How about not? I mean, you weren't at the cafeteria, so I came looking for you."

I froze.

He was actually looking for me?

I still glared at him. "So?"

Jack tilted his head slightly. "Thought I'd check up on you."

I swallowed, my fingers curling around the edge of my laptop. "Well, I'm fine. Thanks for your concern."

Jack didn't answer right away. He just studied me for a long moment before leaning against the chair across from me, dropping his usual teasing tone.

"Aria..."

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know, it's just..."

I narrowed my eyes. "It's just what?"

He let out a frustrated breath, shaking his head. "You know what? Never mind."

There it was again. That frustration. Like he wanted to say something but didn't.

I shook my head, exhaling sharply. "Well, thanks for the interruption, but I was actually doing something before you showed up."

Jack tilted his head, his smirk returning. "Seems to me you were watching an old video. What video was that?"

I froze.

He noticed.

Jack's smirk deepened, reading my reaction easily. "Looks like it was something you didn't want me to see."

I clenched my jaw, grabbing my bag. "Mind your business, Carter."

He didn't move as I brushed past him, but I could feel his gaze on me, lingering—

Like he wasn't done with this conversation.

The late afternoon sun stretched golden streaks across the field, casting long shadows over the freshly cut grass. The steady rhythm of cleats pounding against the turf mixed with the sharp blasts of a whistle as the football team ran drills, the familiar, chaotic energy of practice unfolding in front of me.

I was lying on the bleachers, knees up, arms crossed over my stomach, staring at the sky. I had come here before the team even arrived, right after the final bell rang. The moment school ended, I bolted.

I wasn't sure why I had come here.

Maybe it was because The Cozy Corner was too crowded. Maybe it was because Waves and Whispers meant running into Eli, who, by the way, was getting on my nerves. He kept checking up on me between classes, constantly reminding me about the full moon and how I needed to be prepared. He had seriously suggested that I skip homecoming altogether, warning that it was too dangerous for my first full moon.

He wasn't wrong, but that wasn't the point.

I had asked him over and over if he had experienced one before, but he still wouldn't tell me everything. He danced around the truth, leaving me frustrated and irritated, like I was expected to trust him blindly. I had already told him homecoming wasn't my thing. If I didn't have the energy for spirit week, what made him think I was going to throw myself into a school dance?

But the real reason I was here?

I needed noise—something to drown out my own thoughts, something to keep me from spiraling into the endless pit of what ifs circling my mind.

And maybe—just maybe—I had forgotten that Jack, Brent, and Eli had football practice every day.

I mentally cursed myself for not thinking that through.

Jack Carter was impossible to ignore.

It wasn't just because he was the quarterback, wasn't just because people naturally gravitated toward him—it was because he had noticed me the second he stepped onto the field.

I had thought I was being slick. I had deliberately picked a spot away from the crowd, lying back in the shadows, hoping to blend in like I always had.

Clearly, I was wrong.

The first time I caught him looking was mid-throw, his arm already in motion before his gaze flickered—just briefly—to the bleachers. I had turned my head in time to see the smirk pulling at his lips before he refocused on the game.

That asshole.

The second time, he was adjusting his helmet, turning slightly, his attention shifting toward where I sat. He lingered for just a second too long before jogging back into position.

I pulled my hoodie tighter, trying to focus on anything but him.

On the sidelines, Brent was pissed, his mood sharper than usual. He had snapped at one of his teammates earlier, muttering something under his breath before storming off to grab his water bottle. Eli had stepped in before things could escalate, calming him down, but even then, the tension surrounding Brent didn't fade.

I had overheard Olivia, his project partner, complaining that Brent had tried to work alone and that Ms. Daniels refused to let him.

Whatever was bothering him wasn't just about the project.

Something had happened.

I considered asking.

Then again, Brent and I weren't friends.

Not my problem.

I sighed, shifting my attention back to my phone, pretending I wasn't fully aware of Jack running past the bleachers again, his movements easy and effortless.

I knew he saw me.

Because the moment he did, I caught the flicker of another smirk, quick enough to make my stomach tighten before I forced myself to look away.

I wasn't here for him.

I was here for me.

And yet—

A sharp whistle blew, followed by a voice shouting, "Heads up!"

Before I could process what was happening, something flew straight toward me—a football, spiraling fast.

Without thinking, I stood up, my hand shooting out, catching the ball with a force that nearly knocked me back.

For a second, there was silence.

Then, I realized everyone on the field was looking at me.

And Jack was the closest one.

Helmet off, hair damp with sweat, his expression unreadable.

I cleared my throat, quickly tossing the ball back onto the field, hoping no one noticed how fast I had reacted.

Jack, however, had a very different reaction.

He jogged over, closing the distance between us in a few long strides, stopping just a few feet away. "Nice reflexes, Morales."

I rolled my eyes, shoving my phone into my hoodie pocket, ignoring him completely.

I did not want to talk to him.

Jack tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a way that made my skin prickle. "Ignoring me now?"

I scowled at him.

Jack didn't move for a second, his gaze lingering just a little too long before he exhaled and shook his head. "Huh."

I frowned. "What now?"

"Nothing," he said, but the way he said it made me uneasy. Like he was filing this moment away, storing it in the back of his mind as another thing about me that didn't add up.

I crossed my arms, already done with this conversation. "Are we finished here?"

Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual teasing smirk still present but tinged with something else—something thoughtful, calculating.

"You know," he started, his voice slower this time, "if you're gonna keep showing up at practice, you could at least pretend you're not watching me."

My stomach flipped.

I forced a neutral expression. "You're not that important in my eyes. Just because you're the golden popular guy doesn't mean everyone is obsessed with you."

Jack grinned, his smirk deepening as he took a small step closer. "Right. Because, you know, trying to 'get over your stupid crush on me since freshman year' totally screams that you don't care at all."

My breath caught.

My entire body froze.

He had just thrown my own words back at me.

He remembered.

I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. "Yeah, well, I did get over it."

Jack's smirk widened, but this time, it wasn't teasing. It was something more dangerous, like he was piecing something together.

"Really now?" he mused, taking another small step. "So, if I stand a bit closer, how will you react?"

Before I could brace myself, he did exactly that.

A small step.

Barely anything.

But I felt it.

My pulse picked up speed, my breath catching for half a second too long.

Jack noticed.

The smirk on his lips curled just a little more, like he had just won something.

Damn it.

I scowled, forcing my arms to stay crossed, willing my skin not to flush. "You're so full of yourself."

Jack raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "It's part of my charm."

I let out a frustrated breath, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. "You should probably get back to practice."

Jack didn't move right away, still watching me like he wasn't done trying to figure me out. Then, finally, he sighed, giving me an easy shrug. "If you say so, Morales."

I didn't wait for him to walk away.

I turned first, pulling my hoodie up as I headed toward the parking lot, feeling his eyes on me the entire time.

Jack wasn't letting this go.

And that? That should have terrified me more than it did.

The Cozy Corner had always been warm, always filled with a quiet kind of energy—the kind that let me disappear into the background, unnoticed. But tonight, it felt different.

I had been here since the incident at Jack's football practice. I left straight after, walking into the café as soon as the door unlocked, while Alice was too busy juggling customers to greet me properly. She later slid my iced pumpkin chai latte across the counter without a word, as if she already knew I needed it. I had been sitting in the same spot ever since.

Maybe it was because it was later than usual, the crowd thinning to a handful of stragglers nursing their drinks, the glow of the streetlights outside casting long shadows through the windows. Maybe it was because the full moon was getting closer, making my body feel heavier, more restless.

Or maybe it was because I knew that when I left here, I'd be walking into an empty house again.

I tapped my fingers against the side of my laptop, the soft hum of my headphones in my ears as I scrolled through my vlogging files, watching old clips flicker across my screen.

I should've gone home.

But home was just a house, silent and hollow, where my parents' absence had long since stopped feeling temporary. They had been home for a grand total of two days, filling the space with their voices, their presence—just enough to make me remember what it was like when they used to actually be around.

Then they left. Again.

No explanations. Just another transfer on Venmo and a vague, "We'll check in soon."

I exhaled, shaking my head as I hovered over a video from last year, my younger voice filling my ears as I pressed play.

"Sometimes I wonder if my parents even remember I exist."

I paused the video immediately, my stomach twisting.

I don't know why I was doing this to myself.

The soft scrape of a chair being pulled out snapped me out of my thoughts.

I looked up, and of course—it was Jack.

His hoodie was still slightly damp from practice, his hair a mess from where he had probably run a hand through it. He set down a bottle of water and a granola bar before slumping into the seat across from me, like he had every right to be there.

I frowned. "What are you doing?"

Jack shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Waiting for my black coffee."

Of course. Black coffee. Some things never changed. I wasn't about to bring that up, though. I had already embarrassed myself in class once by blurting out his siblings' names like some obsessed fangirl. Never again.

Instead, I raised an eyebrow. "You could've sat anywhere else."

Jack broke off a piece of his granola bar, chewing slowly as he watched me too closely. "Yeah, I could've. But when I walked in, you just looked... off."

I scowled, dragging my laptop a little closer. I wasn't fine, but I wasn't about to talk to him about it either. I wasn't the type to spill my emotions. I dealt with things, pushed them down, kept my walls high. And Jack? He had no business trying to break through them.

"I'm fine," I muttered.

Jack hummed, unconvinced. "Right. That's why you're still here at almost ten o'clock at night."

I sighed, leaning back in my chair, feeling the exhaustion settle deeper in my bones. "I just—" I hesitated, hating the way my throat tightened around the words. "It's nothing."

Jack didn't say anything at first. He just studied me, his usual teasing smirk replaced with something more serious, like he was debating whether to push further or let it go. Before he could say anything, Alice appeared, setting down his black coffee without a word before walking off.

Jack barely acknowledged her before shifting his focus back to me.

Then, finally, his voice softened.

"So, what's the real reason you're here? Avoiding home?"

I froze.

The question hit too directly, too easily, and for a second, I felt exposed.

I forced a small, indifferent shrug, tapping my fingers against my laptop. "That's a weird assumption."

Jack tilted his head slightly, watching me like he could see right through the thin layer of indifference I was trying to hold onto. "It's not an assumption. Sometimes, when I don't feel like being home, I find somewhere else to be."

I swallowed, shifting in my seat. "I don't see how that's your problem. What makes you think I'm avoiding home?"

Jack leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his voice quieter now. "I don't. But I know some people need space from their home sometimes."

I exhaled, gripping the edge of my laptop, fingers tightening against the cool metal. I should've deflected, brushed it off, made some excuse. But the words slipped out before I could stop them.

"I just... don't like the quiet."

Jack nodded slowly, like he understood that kind of silence.

Then, after a long pause, he muttered, "Yeah. That kind of quiet sucks."

I glanced up at him, surprised.

His expression had shifted—just barely—but it was enough for me to realize that maybe he wasn't just saying that for my sake.

I looked away, clicking at my keyboard absently. "I don't know why I'm even watching these," I admitted, motioning toward my screen. "It's not like anything changes."

Jack flicked his gaze toward the laptop. "What were you watching?"

I hesitated, debating whether to brush him off or actually answer.

Then, instead of answering, I clicked play.

The video started, my voice—younger, softer, quieter—filling the small space between us.

"Sometimes I wonder if my parents even remember I exist."

I immediately hit pause, my face heating up.

Jack didn't say anything at first. He just sat there, his expression unreadable, his eyes locked onto the frozen frame on my screen.

I braced myself for some stupid remark, some offhanded comment meant to brush off the heaviness of the moment.

But it never came.

Instead, Jack exhaled softly, his voice quieter than before. "How long have you been making these?"

I swallowed, fingers pressing against the keyboard. "Since sixth grade."

Jack nodded slowly, his gaze flickering back to my face before settling on the screen again. "And you don't post them?"

I shook my head. "No. They're just... for me."

Jack studied me for a long moment before muttering, "You know, I get it."

I blinked. "What?"

Jack leaned back slightly, taking a sip of his coffee. "Not everyone wants to be seen. But sometimes, it's nice to have proof that you were here. That you existed."

My chest tightened at his words.

I wasn't used to this side of him.

Jack—cocky, confident, annoyingly popular Jack Carter—was sitting in front of me, saying things that I didn't expect, things that made it harder to keep my walls up.

And that was almost worse than all the teasing.

I cleared my throat, blushing slightly, and mumbled, closing my laptop. "It's like you want me to break down my walls."

Jack smirked, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "And what if I do?"

I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat, before standing up, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Don't make a habit of sitting with me, Carter."

Jack leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth curling upward. "No promises."

I sighed, shaking my head as I made my way toward the door, but something about tonight felt different.

I wasn't sure if I wanted him to keep his distance.

As I stepped outside, the night air felt cooler than before, wrapping around me in a way that should have been comforting—but wasn't. The glow of the streetlights stretched across the sidewalk, casting elongated shadows, the distant hum of cars passing by filling the silence.

I pulled my hoodie tighter around me, my fingers curling against the fabric, as I tried to shake off the weight of whatever just happened inside.

Jack had always been the boy who never took anything seriously, the boy who teased, flirted, and detached. But tonight?

Tonight, he had been something else entirely.

I exhaled, staring at the ground for a moment, then glanced back at the café through the window.

Jack was still sitting at the table, fingers wrapped around his coffee cup, his gaze not on me but on the spot I had just been sitting in. His expression wasn't cocky, wasn't teasing—it was thoughtful.

I turned away before he could look up.

This was dangerous.

Not because of Jack Carter and his ability to read between the cracks in my walls. Not because of the way he noticed things I wasn't used to people noticing.

But because, for the first time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep pushing him away.

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A/N: Another chapter edited. Please comment, vote, and feedback is greatly appreciated.