Roxie took longer in the locker room than she needed.

The shower helped, but not enough to wash Coach Miller’s voice out of her head. She stood under the hot water with her forehead against the tile, replaying every word until she wanted to scream.

You’re the captain.

Fix it before Friday.

Stop letting her push your buttons where I can see it.

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one standing there while Kendall smiled through every missed count.

By the time Roxie changed into jeans and an old Briarwick hoodie, the locker room was empty. The rest of the squad had already left, and the noise from practice had faded into that weird after-school quiet where the whole building felt bigger than it was.

She shoved her practice clothes into her bag, zipped it shut, and stepped back into the gym.

Most of the lights were off now. Only the ones above the bleachers stayed on, making the gym look colder than it already felt.

Zac Prescott was still there.

He sat on the lowest bleacher with his chemistry notebook open on his lap, one elbow resting on his knee like him waiting around after practice was completely normal.

Roxie stopped walking.

"I thought you left."

Zac looked up. "Most people don’t have a lab due tomorrow."

Roxie stared at him.

He lifted the notebook slightly.

The lab. Because apparently her day still had more ways to annoy her.

"I’ll finish my part at home," she said.

"You don’t even know which part is yours."

"I can figure it out."

"You couldn’t figure out question seven yesterday."

Roxie narrowed her eyes.

Zac’s mouth twitched. "That wasn’t an insult. That was a fact."

She wanted to walk out. She really did. But Mr. Callahan was strict about deadlines, and Roxie had already spent enough of the day getting blamed for things that were only half her fault. Failing chemistry on top of everything would be stupid, and she couldn’t afford stupid right now.

"Fine," she said. "But we’re doing it here."

Zac looked around the empty gym. "Where else would we go?"

"I don’t know. Somewhere with more witnesses."

His eyes moved to her face, then away.

For once, he didn’t turn it into a joke.

Roxie dropped her bag on the bleacher and sat down, leaving enough space between them to make her point. Zac didn’t comment. He just slid the lab packet between them and clicked his pen.

They worked quietly at first, which somehow made everything worse.

At least when he talked, Roxie had something to be irritated about. Instead, he focused. He flipped through his notes, checked the procedure, and wrote down the safety responses like he actually cared whether they passed. When Roxie got stuck on the molarity question, he leaned closer, tapped the line with his pencil, and pointed to the unit conversion.

"You switched these," he said.

Roxie looked down.

He was right.

Annoying.

She fixed it without thanking him.

Zac didn’t smirk. He didn’t make some stupid comment about the captain needing help. He just moved on to the next part like being useful was normal for him.

That made it worse.

Roxie had spent most of high school assuming Zac Prescott got carried through classes because he could throw a football and smile at teachers until they forgot grading existed. Apparently, that assumption had been convenient and wrong.

"You’re weirdly good at this," she said.

Zac glanced at her. "Weirdly?"

"For you."

"That’s sweet."

"It wasn’t supposed to be."

He went back to the packet, still looking faintly amused.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were pencil scratches, the hum of the gym lights, and rain starting up outside. It tapped against the high windows at first, then turned steadier, filling the empty space with a soft, constant noise.

Zac shifted closer to check her answer.

Roxie felt him before she looked. His sleeve brushed hers, and his shoulder hovered near enough that she caught the faint clean smell of soap and cold air, mixed with whatever football boys always seemed to carry around after practice.

She kept her eyes on the worksheet.

"Don’t."

Zac paused. "Don’t what?"

"You know what."

"I’m checking the answer."

"With your whole body?"

He glanced down at the space between them. There was still space, but barely.

His mouth twitched again. "My bad."

He shifted back.

Roxie should have felt better.

She didn’t.

They got through two more questions before Zac closed his notebook halfway.

"I’m serious," he said.

Roxie kept writing. "That sounds unfortunate for both of us."

"I’m not trying to make this mess bigger."

Her pen stopped.

Zac leaned back on one hand, the notebook balanced on his knee. "I know Coach Miller talked to you. I know he warned you about me."

Roxie didn’t answer.

"My coach already chewed me out for an hour because of that photo," he said, giving her a tired little grin. "So trust me, I’m not trying to make your day worse too."

Roxie kept her eyes on her packet. "Then why are you here?"

"Because Callahan paired us," he said, tapping the lab paper with his pencil. "And because I’m not failing chemistry just because half the school wanted entertainment."

That answer should have been annoying.

It was.

It was also better than the other answer she had been afraid he might give. Something soft. Something too nice. Something that would make this feel bigger than it needed to be.

Roxie finally turned to him. There was no big grin on his face now, none of that easy confidence everyone expected from him. He still looked like Zac Prescott, too comfortable in his own skin and too used to people making space for him, but there was something tired around his eyes, like the whole thing had stopped being funny for him too.

For a second, she almost relaxed.

Then Coach Miller’s warning came back.

Coach Miller’s warning came back.Be careful with Prescott.

Roxie closed her notebook.

Zac noticed immediately. "What?"

"We’re done."

"We barely started."

"We finished enough."

"That’s not how assignments work."

"It’s how this one works now." She grabbed the lab packet from the bleacher and shoved it into her folder. "I’ll finish my half at home. You do yours. We’ll compare tomorrow."

Zac sat up. "Roxie."

"Don’t."

He stopped.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped back before she could change her mind.

"I can’t afford this right now," she said. "Whatever this is, it’s making everything worse."

Zac stood, the tired grin gone. He didn’t look angry. He looked the same way he had in the hallway when his teammates kept laughing about the photo and he had already stopped finding it funny.

"Fine," he said. "Keep avoiding me if you want. Just don’t act like Kendall isn’t loving it."

Roxie’s throat tightened.

"I’m not pushing you away," she said. "I’m protecting myself."

Zac held her gaze for a second, then nodded once. "Yeah. I got that."

The words landed flat.

No teasing. No big argument. Just Zac looking at her like he understood enough to be annoyed by it.

Roxie hated that more than if he had fought her.

She turned and walked toward the gym doors before she could say anything else. Her footsteps sounded too loud in the empty space, and she didn’t look back.

Outside, the rain had started properly.

Roxie pulled her hood up and crossed the parking lot fast, her bag knocking against her hip with every step. Her phone buzzed once before she reached the bus stop.

She ignored it.

Then it buzzed again.

And again.

By the time she got home, her socks were damp, her curls were frizzing around her face, and her temper had turned into something colder.

The house was quiet.

Her mom was probably out.

Roxie dropped her bag by the door and went straight to her room. She changed into an old shirt and sweatpants, sat on the edge of her bed, and stared at her phone.

She knew checking would only make her feel worse.

She checked anyway.

The muted group chats were still alive.

The first thing she saw was the bus photo again. Someone had zoomed in on Zac’s hand at her waist and circled it in red.

He’s not even trying to hide it anymore lmao

Under it, the comments kept going.

She’s been thirsty for him since last year.

Captain finally got what she wanted.

This is actually embarrassing for her.

Kendall was right about her.

Roxie swallowed and kept scrolling, which was stupid. Her thumb did it anyway, like some ugly part of her wanted to know how bad it had gotten.

Then she saw the new photo.

Her and Zac on the bleachers.

The angle was bad, taken from the hallway through the gym doors, but it was clear enough. Zac leaning toward the packet. Roxie beside him. Too close if someone wanted it to look bad.

And someone definitely wanted it to look bad.

Desperate.

Roxie dropped the phone onto the bed.

Her hands had gone cold.

For a few seconds, she just stared at it.

Then the screen lit up again.

Unknown number.

She should have ignored it.

She answered.

A girl giggled on the other end. "Is this Roxie? The one who keeps sitting on Prescott?"

Roxie hung up. Someone from the squad must have given out her number.

The phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Unknown number.

Then a text.

Slut.

Another one.

Hope you know everyone’s laughing at you.

Roxie stared until the words blurred.

She didn’t cry.

She refused.

But her throat burned, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and for the first time since the bus ride, the whole thing felt bigger than gossip.

This wasn’t just people talking.

Someone had waited outside the gym.

Someone had taken that photo.

Roxie turned her phone off and shoved it under her pillow.

Then she lay back and stared at the ceiling, her heart beating too fast in the dark.

She had walked away from Zac because she thought it would stop things from getting worse.

Now she was starting to think it had never mattered what she did.

Someone had already decided what story they wanted.

And they were going to make the whole school believe it.