10 days 18

The prom decorations meeting ran late — because of course it did. Everything ran late during prom week, including my patience.

I was hunched over a clipboard with Jaxon in the corner of the gym, mid-argument about whether gold foil or matte black was the superior trim color for the stage backdrop. He was holding two fabric swatches like they were evidence in a murder trial. I was stabbing the clipboard with my pen like it owed me money.

“We can’t use matte,” I hissed. “It looks like the inside of a coffin.”

“Gold foil reflects light like a cursed mirror,” he argued. “You want people to look shiny, not possessed.”

“You like shiny.”

“I like tactical shiny, thanks for noticing.” He grinned, so damn proud of himself.

Before I could retaliate, I noticed them. Leah, Macy, and Jamie standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like they were about to charge me with something. I felt my stomach drop and tried to casually turn my attention back to the fabric, hoping this wasn’t happening. No such luck.

Leah’s eyebrow was arched so high it practically touched her hairline. “We need to talk,” she said, voice deceptively calm. She wasn’t here for the fabric drama. She was here for something else.

I quickly stood up, adjusting my shirt to cover the nerves that were creeping in. “What’s up?”

Leah crossed her arms. “You two look cozy. This fabric talk really getting you hot under the collar?”

I blinked at her. “What?”

Macy immediately picked up the vibe, crossing her arms in the doorway with that trademark sharp look. “Yeah, and what’s going on with you two? You’re practically having a moment.”

I turned to face them, holding the fabric swatch like it was some kind of secret weapon. “We’re just… debating fabric. There’s no moment, okay?”

Leah raised both eyebrows. “Is that why you’re standing there looking like you’re about to kiss him over a piece of matte black fabric?”

“Leah,” I groaned, “It’s prom prep. Not Telenovela: High School Edition.”

Macy’s eyebrow arched in that “I’m calling your bluff” way. “Are you sure? Because it sure looks like you two have chemistry—if chemistry means hanging over each other like you’re the last two people on Earth.”

“No,” I said too quickly. “It’s not like that.”

Jamie, bless his soul, was the quiet one, but even he couldn’t resist chiming in. “Zoe, you do know that everyone in this gym is watching you two right now, right? I can feel the vibe from here.”

I chuckled nervously, my heart starting to race. “I don’t know what you guys are seeing, but I promise you, it’s just… fabric. We’re just discussing the future of prom decor.”

Leah stepped forward, taking her usual role as the Truth Seeker. “Okay, but here’s the thing, Zoe: We’ve all seen the way you two look at each other. This isn’t just about prom, and you know it. I mean, even Macy’s picking up on it, and she’s been convinced for the past three years that I’m too dramatic.”

Macy added, “And I’m really not dramatic. I’m just an observer.”

I cleared my throat. “There’s nothing going on. There can’t be anything going on. We’re just friends.”

Macy shot me a skeptical look. “Uh-huh. Friends don’t stand that close. Friends don’t touch each other like you two are about to do a poorly-timed slow dance.”

My stomach twisted. It felt like I was spiraling into a black hole of lies. And I was just so damn good at it. “Seriously,” I said, my voice cracking slightly as I tried to force a laugh, “he’s just helping me with prom stuff. No big deal.”

Leah crossed her arms. “You’re really not that good at lying, Zoe. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Jamie leaned forward. “Come on, just tell us the truth. Is something going on?”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but all that came out was, “I’m… I’m just doing what’s best for prom, okay?”

The silence that followed was heavy, too heavy. Macy’s eyes were on me like she could see every single crack in my carefully constructed facade. I couldn’t lie to her, not when she was looking at me like that. But I had no choice. I couldn’t tell them the truth. Not yet. Not now.

“You’re hiding something,” Leah said, her voice softer this time. “And you know what? I can’t help you if you keep shutting us out.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “I’m not hiding anything. I swear.”

Macy, ever the realist, just shook her head. “I’m not buying it. We’re your best friends, Zoe. We’ve got your back. But you’ve got to start being real with us.”

“I am being real!” I nearly shouted. I was so desperate for them to believe me, but the guilt was eating me alive. I didn’t know how long I could keep this up.

Leah stepped closer, her voice barely a whisper now. “Don’t lie to us. You’re not the only one feeling this. We’re all in this together. But if you keep this up, you’re going to end up hurting yourself.”

I looked away, knowing there was no way I could keep playing this game with them. “I’m not lying,” I said, but it didn’t sound convincing even to my own ears.

They didn’t say anything else. Just gave me that look — the look of someone who had figured out the puzzle but was waiting for me to confess the pieces.

Later that night, after my great performance of pretending everything was fine, I ended up in my room, pacing in frustration. My phone buzzed with texts from the girls. I couldn’t bring myself to open them. I knew exactly what they said — exactly what I was avoiding. And the more I ignored it, the more the truth seemed to scream in my face.

Jaxon texted: You okay?

I sighed. Of course, he’d check in. Why wouldn’t he?

I typed back: No. Not okay. This is all your fault.

A few seconds later, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find him, standing in the doorway, looking way too smug for my mood.

“What’s up?” he asked casually, as if everything hadn’t just spiraled into social chaos.

“You’re mad,” he said finally, with his usual nonchalance.

“I’m not—” I stopped pacing. “Yeah. I am.”

“At me?”

“At all of it.” I threw my hands up in the air dramatically. “I’m mad that this is how we get caught. I’m mad that we didn’t get ahead of it. I’m mad that I can’t even text my best friends without bracing for fallout.”

Jaxon didn’t respond immediately. He just nodded, like he wasn’t surprised by any of it.

“I liked it better when we were a secret,” I muttered, quieter now. “Not because I wanted to lie. But because at least when it was just us, it made sense.”

“You still want this?” he asked softly.

I turned back to him, knowing I was about to admit what I hadn’t been able to. “Of course I do.”

He took a step closer. “Then let’s stop letting other people decide what it means.”

I looked at him — hoodie pushed up to his elbows, sleeves dusted in glitter from earlier, jaw tight, eyes steady. And I thought about how far we’d come from a stolen Capri Sun behind the gym.

But outside that door, people were already choosing sides.

And inside, my phone kept buzzing.

***