I needed an early swim. So here I am, at the moon pool. 

Yesterday was... a lot. Too much, if you ask me. From Brooke openly flirting with Jack right in front of me to Jack showing up at my locker like it was completely normal. And then—his gaze when I walked away. Like he was trying to figure something out.

I don't know why, but something about him—about his attitude—is getting under my skin.

But I shouldn't care.

I'm trying to get over this crush.

I literally told Jack to give Brooke a chance—because it's obvious she likes him. Obvious.

And yet, after school, I went out of my way to avoid him.

I didn't go to my locker. I hid in the bathroom until I was sure Jack, Brent, and Eli had gone to practice, just so I wouldn't risk running into him.

Pathetic? Maybe. But I wasn't in the mood for another round of back-and-forth banter with him. I mean, I don't even do banter. I'm supposed to be invisible—the bookworm no one notices. I don't talk to people like this.

Not until I got paired up with Jack Carter.

And now, suddenly, my attitude has shifted.

The weirdest part? I didn't even vlog.

Usually, I would've gone to The Cozy Corner, edited clips, recorded a haul, or at least talked to my camera. But instead, I went straight home—to an empty house, to a routine I know by heart.

And, like clockwork, my mom's note was stuck to the fridge.

Business trip. Again.

A list of chores. A reminder to check the mail. Same routine.

I should have worked on my editing backlog, but instead, I spent the night watching dramas.

And I don't know why, but watching them—seeing characters fall in love, watching relationships unfold—I felt something I didn't want to acknowledge.

Did I... actually want that?

A love like that?

Am I seriously that desperate?

That's ridiculous. That's a fairytale. My life isn't a drama, and Jack Carter is not some lead actor ready to sweep me off my feet.

Thinking about him at all? That is so not me.

So this morning, I did the one thing I knew would clear my mind.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. and swam.

The early light cast shimmering ripples across the ocean floor, and schools of angelfish darted around me, their iridescent scales flickering like scattered stars between the reefs. Everything should have felt normal.

Familiar.

But it didn't.

Something about the water felt different today.

Or maybe it's just me—overthinking everything that happened yesterday.

I swam all the way to the moon pool, letting the cool currents guide me until I reached the underwater cavern. When I surfaced, I pulled myself onto the rock ledge, letting the crisp morning air settle against my skin.

I needed this.

To breathe. To ground myself.

Then, finally, I reached for the spot where I had left the ring.

Turning it over in my palm, I studied it carefully. Yesterday, when I first picked it up, I felt something. A pulse of energy. A faint but undeniable surge of magic.

Now?

Nothing.

Just an ordinary ring.

Which was odd.

I should be researching this. I should be researching mermaids—seeing if there's any truth, any history behind what I am. Because I can't be the only one. That would be ridiculous, right?

There had to be others like me.

Were there mermaids in the past?

Are there others who can transform like I do?

The questions swirled in my mind, and for a second, I debated staying here longer. Maybe even skipping school altogether and going straight to the library.

But I couldn't.

Because on land, magic doesn't exist.

On land, mermaids are myths.

And my biggest concern today isn't some ancient secret.

It's an English project with Jack Carter.

Keeping him at a distance. That's the real goal.

And yet, something inside me whispered that this ring might matter just as much.

I turned it over once more before making a decision.

I'll keep it.

I mean, why not? It's just an accessory. Not like something bad will happen.

It disguises itself as something ordinary.

Sliding it onto my right index finger, I watched as it settled perfectly—like it had always belonged there.

I held up my hand, examining how the silver band gleamed under the morning light.

Maybe I'll just wear it as an accessory.

A reminder.

A reality check on why Jack Carter needs to be kept at a distance.

And maybe—just maybe—I should take a trip to the library later.

Because I have a feeling this ring isn't as ordinary as it's pretending to be.

I took one last look at the ring before pushing myself off the rock ledge and diving back into the water, swimming toward the underwater entrance of the moon pool cave.

The swim back to shore was quick. Too quick. I had the ability to speed swim, my body encased in bubbles as I propelled forward like a jet stream. If only I could outrun my thoughts as easily.

By the time I surfaced at our private beach—the one reserved for our gated community neighbors—the sun had fully risen, casting warm streaks of gold and pink across the sky. I made my way toward the enclosure of boulders, where I knew no one could see me.

With closing fist applying pressure to my hand, I used my hydrothermokinesis to dry my scales, the water evaporating into a soft mist as my clothes shifted back into place. My hair remained intact, and just like that, I looked completely normal.

Just another high school girl.

I wish I could have stayed in the ocean longer, but reality doesn't work like that.

Because I don't live in the ocean.

I live on land.

And that meant back to school.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, the weight of my normal life hit me full force.

Fluorescent lights. Loud voices. Too many people.

The ocean felt a lifetime away.

I adjusted my bag over my shoulder, gripping my iced pumpkin chai latte like a lifeline. I had stopped by The Cozy Corner before heading to school, seeing Alice again as she vented about her stressful college life. That had been the most normal part of my morning. Now, everything else felt off.

I weaved through the swarm of students, focused on one goal.

Get to AP English. Finish this stupid project. Move on.

I needed to tell Jack we should wrap this up ASAP, so we could both go back to our lives. So I could learn more about the ring. That was the plan. Finish the project. Ignore Jack Carter. Stop obsessing over him like some hopeless idiot.

I mean, seriously. I need to stop reacting to Jack.

Focus on the project. That's it.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice him—not until I walked straight into him.

Solid. Unmoving.

A firm grip landed on my arms, steadying me before I could stumble back.

I exhaled sharply. Of course.

Of all people—Jack freaking Carter.

I pulled back immediately, taking two full steps away, because Jack touching me? That was not okay. My heart was already racing from the sudden contact, and I hated that I was even reacting to it.

Jack's hands dropped back to his sides, his grayish-blue eyes scanning me, like he was trying to read something I hadn't said.

Nope. Not happening.

I kept my expression neutral.

"You good, Morales?"

His voice was casual. Too casual. Like he hadn't just wrapped his hands around my arms two seconds ago. Like I wasn't still trying to slow my heart rate.

I didn't answer. Instead, I stepped around him and walked straight toward my locker.

Ignore him. Keep Jack at a distance. Only interact with him in AP English.

That was the plan.

Except... Jack didn't seem to care about my plan.

Because he followed me.

Now, who's the stalker?

I sighed, stopping at my locker, pretending he wasn't standing just a few feet away, watching me with that same unreadable expression.

What was up with him today? He was usually at his locker with Brent and Eli. Why was he here?

I turned to him. "What do you want? Shouldn't you be with your friends? You're usually with Brent at your locker."

Jack didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze flickered over me, his notebook tapping idly against his palm. "You didn't answer my question."

His voice was neutral, but there was something beneath it.

Was that... concern?

No. I had to be imagining it.

"I'm fine," I said quickly, grabbing my notebook and shutting my locker. End of conversation. I was about to walk off—head straight to class and pretend this never happened.

But Jack stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

I blinked. "Seriously?"

Jack crossed his arms, his gaze steadier now. "Doesn't look like you're fine. It looks like you haven't slept."

I clenched my jaw. What the hell?

"Look, I don't know why you're following me," I said, crossing my arms right back, "but since when do you care about my well-being?"

That caught him off guard.

For the first time, Jack hesitated.

His lips parted slightly, like he had something to say—but then he muttered something under his breath, raking a hand through his chestnut-brown waves, looking... frustrated.

"You know what? Forget it."

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Leaving me standing in the hallway, staring after him.

What the hell was that?

I stood there for a moment, staring after Jack as he walked away.

I really don't know what just happened.

Jack Carter has never been the type to care about anyone's well-being—unless we're talking about his best friend Brent, because they've been inseparable since forever.

One second, he was getting in my way, asking if I was okay. The next, he looked frustrated the moment I asked since when does he care?

I hope his hesitation was about the project, because if it was, I would have apologized for my behavior. But overall? Jack wouldn't care.

Whatever. If he wanted to be weird, that was his problem. Not mine.

I had enough to deal with. And honestly? That was fine with me.

The goal was to make sure he stayed on the outside of my walls.

I had other things to focus on.

I wanted to know more about it.

Something about it intrigued me—an inexplicable pull I couldn't shake.

I knew I shouldn't be obsessing over it, but I couldn't help it. I was the one who found it—deep in the ocean. There had to be a reason for that. A significance.

As I moved through the crowded hallway, I twisted the ring absentmindedly around my finger, my thumb brushing over the smooth silver band.

It looked like a normal ring.

But it didn't feel like one.

Yesterday, I could have sworn it had a pulse of magic—something unexplainable. But now? Nothing. Not a single spark.

Maybe it was just a ring.

Or maybe... it needed to be activated.

Either way, I was going to find out.

But first—I needed to convince Jack to finish our project.

Focus on the project.
Get the questions done.
Give straight answers—nothing personal.
Don't slip up about my secret.
Don't let him see beyond the surface.

If I could just do that, it would be over.

I glanced down at the ring again.

It fit so perfectly—almost like it was meant for me.

Which was crazy.

It was just a ring.

And yet... it felt right.

I kept walking, barely registering the students around me as I weaved through the crowd. I needed to figure this out.

I could go to the library during lunch, maybe look up old myths or legends. But then again, I doubted our school library would have anything remotely useful.

And asking the librarian? Out of the question.

She'd ask if it was for a project, and I'd have no real excuse.

I couldn't risk raising suspicion.

There had to be something. A story. A connection. Something about me.

It's funny—last year, I wasn't this obsessed with my mermaid identity.

No, last year, I was obsessed with Jack Carter. Learning about him. Admiring him. Observing him from afar.

That was my focus.

But then—something happened.

Someone almost found out about me.

They almost saw me.

And it freaked me out so badly that I made a promise to myself last summer.

Be more careful.
Stop the habit of watching Jack.

So why did I feel like I was slipping again?

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't even realize I had reached my next class.

Right.

The project.

Jack Carter.

I barely had time to brace myself before spotting him already at his desk, flipping his pen between his fingers, looking completely unbothered.

Like our weird hallway encounter hadn't even happened.

I exhaled sharply and slid into my seat, setting my notebook down, doing my best to ignore him.

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to ignore me too.

Good.

Maybe we both needed space.

I needed to convince him to focus on the project so we could finish it and move on.

And Jack? I had no idea what he wanted.

I pulled out my pen, flipping open my notebook to review the project outline—because if I could just focus on this, I could think of my answers and make sure I didn't give away too much.

Surface-level answers. Safe responses. Nothing that would make Jack suspicious. Nothing that would let him past my walls. But then—my fingers kept twitching toward my right hand. I hadn't even noticed I was doing it. Not until a voice cut through my focus.

"New accessory?"

Jack's voice snapped me out of my daze.

I blinked, looking up. "What?"

He tilted his head slightly, nodding toward my hand. "The ring. I never see you wearing any kind of jewelry, and today this just... appeared."

My fingers froze mid-motion.

I hadn't even realized I was fidgeting with it.

I forced myself to stay neutral. "Your point?"

Jack leaned back in his chair, flipping his pen between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

"I just didn't take you for the type to wear jewelry. Especially with the way you dress every day."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Jack smirked, but his eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Nothing. Just an observation."

Right.

I curled my fingers slightly, as if that would keep him from noticing how tense I was.

How much I suddenly wanted to blurt out—I do wear jewelry. I do like girly things. I just don't show that side of myself here.

But I didn't say that.

Because he didn't need to know.

No one needed to know.

"It's just a ring, Carter. Don't overanalyze it."

Jack didn't look convinced.

"You keep messing with it."

I scowled. "And you keep analyzing me. What's your point?"

His smirk flickered for half a second before he shook his head. "No point. Just... curious."

Curious. Shit. If he was curious, then I needed to be more careful. I needed to shut this down. Jack couldn't be curious about me. Because the more curious he was, the more danger I was in. And I couldn't let Jack Carter get too close.

Ms. Daniels wasted no time settling the class, standing at the front of the room as students shuffled into their seats.

"Alright, everyone," she said, clapping her hands together. "You know the drill. No lectures today—just time to work on your projects. Remember, this is a semester-long assignment, but that doesn't mean you can slack off. I expect real progress. And trust me—I'll know if you're not putting in the effort when you present your partner later in the semester."

I resisted the urge to sigh. Real progress. Sure. If progress meant giving the most surface-level answers possible while making sure Jack Carter stayed firmly on the outside of my walls, then yeah—I was making progress.

So far, I hadn't slipped up—except for that one time when he caught me watching him drink from his Owala bottle. But overall, I'd kept my answers boring and detached—the kind that made me seem like the most uninteresting person on the planet. Which, to be fair, I probably was.

I had my predictable routine—The Cozy Corner, home, and the moon pool. That was my life. Rinse and repeat.

Ms. Daniels continued, already anticipating the usual resistance. "I know some of you would rather be buried in coursework, but this project isn't just about writing. It's about communication—getting to know people beyond what's on the surface—"

Beyond the surface? Yeah, not happening. I wasn't opening up to Jack Carter. And I highly doubted he wanted to get to know me either. I zoned out the rest of her speech and focused on opening my notebook.

At least we were getting the whole class period to work. That meant we could get through the next set of questions and be halfway done. The sooner this was over, the better.

Across from me, Jack leaned back in his chair, flipping through his notes before tapping his pen against the desk—completely relaxed. Meanwhile, I was already on edge, mentally preparing my script. Safe answers only.

Jack skimmed the next set of questions, his voice casual. "Alright, Morales. Since we've already covered hobbies, family, and goals, looks like we're onto something a little deeper."

I tensed. Deeper. Great.

Jack scanned the page before raising a brow. "Biggest fear?"

My fingers curled slightly against my notebook. That was... too obvious. The exposure. Exposure of my mermaid secret. Exposure of my vlogs. I didn't want anyone to see me. To judge me. If anyone ever knew what I truly was—if Jack ever found out—everything would fall apart. And if anyone saw my vlogs? If they were ever uploaded online? I didn't have the confidence of those influencers. I wasn't pretty like them. I already knew what people would say. But obviously, I couldn't say any of that.

So I shrugged. "Failing a test."

Jack didn't even pretend to believe me.

"Really?" He gave me a look. "That's it?"

"Yes," I said flatly, keeping my tone neutral. "Tests are stressful."

Jack tilted his head slightly, watching me too closely. "I highly doubt you've ever failed a test," he said. "You're the only sophomore in this class. You're probably taking all these higher-level classes. Straight-A student, right?"

Wow. Look at that. Jack Carter, right on the mark. Yes, I cared about my grades. Yes, I wanted to study hard and get into NYU. But I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of being right.

"And?" I said, unimpressed.

"I'm just saying. It's impossible to believe you've failed a test before."

I scowled. "I did fail a test."

Jack leaned back, looking far too amused. "Morales, you're a terrible liar."

I resisted the urge to groan. Technically, I had failed a test before. Spanish homework didn't count, right? Ms. Kingsley's tests were brutal. Sometimes, I mixed up Tagalog and Spanish, using the wrong words.

But more importantly? I hated how close Jack was to cracking my walls. I didn't like how he was too comfortable calling me out. This was exactly why I hated talking to Jack Carter. He noticed too much.

"You don't have to believe me," I muttered, writing down my answer before quickly changing the subject.

"What about you?"

Jack exhaled through his nose, like he already knew I was dodging the question. But, thankfully, he didn't push.

Instead, he tapped his pen against his notebook, gaze flickering toward the window for a second before he said, "Failure."

I blinked, caught off guard. That was... not what I expected.

"Failure?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes slightly. "That's vague."

Jack's expression stayed cool. Unreadable. "Failure at something that matters," he said simply.

I studied him, trying to read between the lines. Failure at what? Football? His future? Disappointing his family? That last one made sense. He came from a healthy family. He had expectations. Pressure. I thought about Friday's game. The way the school looked at him like he was their golden boy. The way he carried all of it—like it was nothing.

And homecoming week? People were already expecting another win. I wanted to ask, but I didn't. Because if I pushed too much, he'd push back. And I couldn't have that. So instead, I simply jotted down his answer and moved on.

"A memory that shaped you?" I asked Jack after moving on to the next question. Jack sighed, stretching slightly before he leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk.

"This one's easy," he said. "Winning the regional championship last year."

His voice carried quiet confidence. Not arrogant. Just... satisfied. Like that moment meant something real to him. And I guess it made sense. Even though I hadn't gone to the game, I remembered how the entire student body had swarmed him afterward, celebrating like it was the greatest achievement of the century. And I remembered him smiling—genuinely happy.

I tapped my pen against my notebook. "That's it?"

Jack's gaze flickered to mine, his expression cool and unbothered. "That's what you're getting."

Jack Carter was the type to give just enough to satisfy curiosity—but never enough for anyone to really know him. The moment someone got too close, he pulled away. Detached. And honestly? I was the exact same way. Jack tilted his head slightly, watching me.

"Alright, Morales," he said. "Your turn. Memory that shaped you?"

I hesitated. I thought about telling him the truth. That my defining moment wasn't some milestone, but a realization. That somewhere along the way, I had learned to fracture myself into separate versions.

The Aria at school—quiet, invisible, bookish. The Aria behind the camera—confident, expressive, but hidden. And then the Aria beneath the waves—a secret I could never let slip. But instead of telling Jack the truth, I gave him a safe answer.

"When I got my first book collection," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "It made me love stories."

Jack's grayish-blue eyes flickered toward mine, studying me. Like he knew I was holding something back. But I held his gaze, steady and unwavering. Because I wasn't lying. Even if it wasn't the whole story.

"Alright," Jack muttered, tapping his pen against the desk. "Next question."

Jack and I sat in silence, reviewing our notes while the rest of the class worked on their projects. The quiet buzz of voices, the occasional scratch of a pen against paper—it all blended together, background noise to the thoughts racing through my head.

I was trying to drown them out. Trying to focus. Really, I was. But my mind kept circling back to Jack. How he kept calling me out on my lies. How he didn't push me when I shut him down—but still studied my answers anyway.

I hated it. I didn't want him to analyze me. I didn't want him to try and figure me out. And yet, I could feel it—the weight of his gaze as he read through his notes. It wasn't like before, where he would glance at me out of curiosity and move on.

No.

Now, he was trying to piece things together. And I hated that even more.

What is he looking for? I kept my head down, palm flat against my desk as I stared at my notebook, eyes flicking to the next set of questions.

Silence.

The kind that stretched between two people who should be talking but weren't. Jack hadn't said anything in the past few minutes, and I should have been relieved. But then I caught the way his brow furrowed slightly as he re-read my answers. Like he was trying to make sense of something. Like he had picked up on something I hadn't meant to give away.

I looked away quickly, pretending to focus on the next question. Then I saw it.

How do you define 'home'?

I scoffed internally. What kind of question is that? How do I define home? I don't even know what home is. A house? A place? Because if that was the case, then I guess... I don't have one.

My parents weren't home. My house was just an empty space filled with routine and silence. Maybe the ocean was the closest thing I had to home. But there was no way I was telling Jack that.

I curled my fingers into a tight fist, nails digging into my palm. This project, these questions, Jack's constant watching—it was all starting to stress me out.

I needed to keep my walls up.Needed to keep him out.

And then—

Jack flinched back in his seat, cursing under his breath.

"What the hell?!"

I looked up just in time to see him pull his Owala bottle away from his lips, his expression twisting in confusion. He set it down, fast, like it had burned him. And that's when I saw the steam. The bottle was boiling.

Shit! No, no, no.

The class snapped their heads up. Jack's eyes widened, his hands pulling away from the steaming bottle as he stared at it like it had personally betrayed him. He frowned, brows furrowing, eyes locked on the now scalding-hot stainless steel.

I pressed my lips together, shoving my hands under my desk and gripping my jeans tight. It was me. I did that. I lost control. A wave of panic slammed into my chest.

This is exactly why I hate being close to Jack. This is why I need distance. Because the more time I spent near him, the more... reactions I had. And now?

I had just made his Owala bottle boil. In the middle of class. I kept my expression neutral.

Jack was still staring at the bottle, his brows pulling together. "Okay. That's... weird."

Ms. Daniels, who had been making her rounds, stopped near our table, raising a brow. "What's going on?"

Jack lifted the bottle slightly, still eyeing it. "Uh... it just—" He frowned deeper, shaking his head. "I don't know. It just started boiling."

A few students chuckled. "That's what you get for bringing hot soup in a water bottle, Carter," someone joked.

Jack ignored them, his attention still locked on the bottle. His gaze shifted slightly. Right to me. I knew that look. That was the look of someone piecing things together. His grayish-blue eyes flickered up, landing on me.

I shrugged, feigning disinterest, pretending like I had nothing to do with it.

Even though I did. I kept my expression carefully blank. Jack tilted his head slightly, like he was considering something.

Ms. Daniels sighed, clearly already over it. "Alright, if it's not an actual problem, focus on your project. And Carter, don't burn yourself."

Jack nodded absently. But I noticed how his fingers tapped against the desk as he picked the bottle back up. How he gave it a weird look—like he was expecting it to boil again. The moment Ms. Daniels walked away, I turned back to my notebook, pretending to be completely uninterested.

But I could still feel Jack's gaze on me.

Finally, after a few seconds, he muttered, "Weird."

I swallowed, keeping my hands tightly hidden in my lap. I need to get out of here. Because if Jack Carter keeps looking at me like that— I'm going to lose it.

The moment the bell rang, I was out of my seat and out the door. I didn't even glance at Jack. I couldn't look at him. I hope I didn't make it obvious by rushing out, but I didn't care I need to get out of the classroom. That right there almost gave me exposure and that was what made me scared. Now, this is my biggest fear. The more I try to react to Jack and giving expressions or reacting to him. The more he is going to dig and he is doing exactly that. Shit! I need to find a way to make sure I didn't do that. I know he wants answer, but I did rushed out right. That doesn't help. I felt his eyes on me when I rushed out of the classroom so fast.

I hated how close he was to noticing something. Hated how being around him was making me unstable. I forced my steps to stay even as I slipped through the crowd of students pouring into the hallway.

Even though my heart was still pounding from what had just happened. I lost control.

Right there. In class. In front of everyone.

I gritted my teeth, gripping my notebook tighter.

Jack had noticed. The class had noticed. Even Ms. Daniels had raised a brow at the boiling water incident.

I needed to breathe. To get away from everyone.

The voices around me were too loud, too much.

Laughter. Conversations. The casual hum of students who weren't currently freaking out about accidentally boiling someone's water bottle with their mind.

I wove through the hallway, dodging clusters of people without slowing down. I didn't care where I ended up. I just needed to escape. Anywhere but here.

I pushed into the girls' bathroom at the far end of the hall, grateful that it was empty. The door swung shut behind me, muffling the noise of the hallway.

Finally. Silence. I dropped my bag onto the sink counter, gripping the cool porcelain edge as I inhaled sharply.

In.

Out.

Calm down. I lifted my hands, staring at them and closed my fists, but not applying pressure. It was me just thinking back to the incident. I never lost control like that. That sudden surge of heat beneath my skin, responding to my frustration.

To Jack.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the memory away. I was always careful. I had spent years controlling this. I never slipped.

Ugh, this is what happens when I paired with Jack Carter because my emotions are so riled up with him. I need to keep my emotions in check around him. Why, of all people, did Jack Carter have to be the one to push me to the edge?

I exhaled shakily, opening my eyes to look at my reflection. Neutral. Unreadable. Calm.

That's what I needed to be. That's what I had to be. Jack was already paying too much attention.

If I let my emotions spiral like this, if I kept reacting to him, he was going to notice.

I straightened my posture, rolling my shoulders back before grabbing my bag and heading out the bathroom door. The one thing I need is questions from Jack, so I tried as much as possible blending in the crowds students avoiding Jack.

The moment the bell rang, I was out of my seat and out the door. I didn't look at Jack. I couldn't. I didn't care if I made it obvious by rushing out—I needed to get out of that classroom. That whatever that was way too close to exposing me. And that was my biggest fear.

The more I reacted to **Jack—**whether it was through my expressions, my emotions, or my inability to keep things neutral—the more he was going to dig. And he was doing exactly that.

Shit.

I needed to find a way to stop reacting to him. But rushing out like that? That didn't help. I could feel it—his eyes on me, watching as I practically bolted from the classroom. I hated it. Hated how close he was to noticing something.

Hated how being around him was making me unstable. I forced myself to keep my steps even, slipping through the swarm of students in the hallway, even though my heart was still racing. I lost control.

Right there. In class. In front of everyone. I clenched my notebook tighter, the edges pressing into my palm. Jack noticed. The class noticed. Even Ms. Daniels raised a brow at the boiling water incident.

I needed to breathe. To get away from everyone. The voices around me were too loud. Too much.

Laughter. Conversations. The casual hum of students who weren't currently freaking out about accidentally boiling someone's water bottle with their mind.

I weaved through the hallway, dodging clusters of people, not slowing down. I didn't care where I ended up. I just needed to escape. Anywhere but here.

I pushed into the girls' bathroom at the far end of the hall, relieved when I found it empty. The door swung shut behind me, muffling the noise of the hallway. Finally. Silence.

I let out a sharp breath, dropping my bag onto the sink counter and gripping the cool porcelain edge, forcing myself to inhale slowly.

In.

Out.

Calm down. I lifted my hands, staring at them, then curled my fingers into a loose fist. Not too tight. Not enough to dig my nails into my skin. Just enough to feel something real. I kept replaying the moment in my head. I had never lost control like that.

That sudden surge of heat beneath my skin. That instant reaction to my frustration. To Jack. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the memory away. I was always careful.

I had spent years controlling this. I never slipped. And yet, the second I was paired with Jack Carter, my emotions became impossible to control. I needed to keep my emotions in check around him.

I had to. Because if I didn't? This would happen again. And next time, I might not be able to hide it. I exhaled shakily, opening my eyes to look at my reflection.

Neutral.

Unreadable.

Calm.

That's what I needed to be. That's what I had to be. Because Jack was already paying too much attention.

If I let my emotions spiral like this if I kept reacting to him he was going to notice. And I couldn't let that happen. I squared my shoulders, rolling them back before grabbing my bag. The last thing I needed was questions from Jack.

So, as I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped back into the crowded hallway, I did everything I could to blend in. To disappear. To avoid him.

Even though I knew, deep down— Jack Carter wasn't the type to let things go. And that terrified me more than anything else.

<>

A/N: Another edited chapter.