ZAC POV

Zac followed anyway.

He kept far enough behind that she would not hear him over the music bleeding from the gym and the cars moving through the lot. He told himself it was because she was alone. Because the parking lot had dark spaces between the lamps. Because Steve Harris existed. Because Roxie was angry enough to get into any car that pulled up if she wanted to prove a point.

That was all.

He was making sure she left safe.

He was not chasing her.

He was done chasing her.

Roxie reached the far curb near the visitor parking sign and stopped under the light. She did not turn around. She did not look back once.

Let her keep walking.

Let her think he went back inside like the coward she decided he was.

Zac stopped near the side of a parked SUV, half hidden by the shadows. His hand was still in his jacket pocket, fingers wrapped around the bent crown until the plastic edge dug into his palm.

Roxie bent down and unbuckled one gold sandal.

Then the other.

She stood barefoot on the pavement, holding both sandals by the straps, the emerald dress moving around her legs in the cold air.

Something in his chest pulled.

He crushed it.

No.

She did not get to laugh at him and still make him feel bad because her feet hurt.

She did not get to call his life ridiculous because the house looked nice from the outside. She did not get to hear the one thing he hated saying out loud and turn it into some spoiled rich boy complaint.

My dad can get me benched.

That was real.

That was the whole damn problem.

And she laughed at his face.

His father could sit him. One game. Two games. Long enough to make scouts move on. Long enough to make coaches ask questions. Long enough to turn the only way out into another thing his father could take.

Roxie had laughed.

That’s your reason?

Zac’s jaw tightened.

Yeah. That was his reason.

His future. His field. His way out.

Weeks. He was asking for weeks. A few weeks of being careful. A few weeks of keeping his head down until the offers turned real enough to mean something. A few weeks until he could make choices his father could yell about but maybe could not fully control. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

She acted like he asked her to disappear forever.

She acted like he wanted to hide her because he was ashamed.

Zac stared at her from across the lot, anger moving hot under his skin.

Ashamed.

He had gone to her every time.

When she called, he came.

When Steve was outside her window, he hit him.

When Bianca went after her, he wanted to tear the hallway apart.

When Kendall had that picture, he broke the phone.

When the whole school screamed his name after the game, he went under the bleachers for Roxie first.

But that was not enough because he could not give her one public dance tonight.

One dance, she kept saying.

Like one dance was ever just one dance with them. He had wanted the dance. He just had no idea how to make it happen without setting the whole night on fire.

With Roxie, everything caught fire.

Then she stood in the flames and asked why everyone was staring.

Zac let out a hard breath through his nose.

She kept him secret too when it protected her.

She liked the hidden texts. The private looks. The bedroom. The way nobody could name what they were, so nobody could take it from her or use it against her. She liked secrecy when it gave her control.

Then Kendall got a crown, Janice stood too close, and suddenly Zac was the villain for needing the same thing.

Convenient.

Very convenient.

Roxie pulled her phone from her clutch and looked down.

Probably Uber.

She would rather get into a stranger’s car than let him drive her.

Zac’s anger flared again, sharp enough that he almost stepped out from behind the SUV.

He stayed where he was.

She wanted to walk away.

Fine.

Walk.

She wanted him to choose her over football in the middle of homecoming, with his father inside, coaches watching, half the school ready to record anything messy.

Fine.

She could want that.

He could still refuse to be stupid.

Roxie shifted on her bare feet, looking toward the entrance of the lot. She hugged her clutch against her stomach. Her shoulders were stiff. Her head stayed high.

Always proud.

Always sharp.

Always ready to cut first so nobody saw where she was bleeding.

Zac hated that he knew that about her.

He hated more that she knew where to cut him too.

Your way out sounds a lot like his leash.

His hand tightened around the crown until the plastic cracked.

She had no right.

She had no idea what his house was like when the doors closed. She saw the cars, the clean floors, the money, the last name. She saw every door he supposedly had and missed the lock on each one.

Compared to what?

That one had landed too.

He hated that.

He hated her for saying it.

He hated himself because part of him understood why she did.

Headlights turned into the lot.

Roxie looked down at her phone, then toward the gray sedan slowing near the curb.

Zac checked the plate from where he stood.

He hated that he checked.

He hated that even angry, even after that fight, even after every ugly word she threw at him, he still watched the car like he would drag the driver through the window if something looked wrong.

Roxie opened the back door.

She slid in carefully, holding the dress close so it would not catch. Her sandals dangled from one hand. Her clutch stayed pressed to her stomach.

She never looked back.

Zac stood behind the parked SUV, unseen, jaw tight.

The door shut.

The Uber pulled away from the curb.

Roxie faced forward the whole time.

The sedan turned out of the lot.

Zac watched the taillights disappear.

Only then did he step out from the shadow of the SUV.

The music from the gym thudded behind him. Someone inside screamed along to the song. The doors opened, and a flash of red and silver light spilled over the pavement before closing again.

Zac looked down at the bent crown in his hand.

Then he threw it hard across the parking lot.

It hit the pavement near the curb and skidded under a parked car.

Fuck it.

He turned back toward the gym with his jaw clenched and his hands empty.

This was better.

If wanting Roxie meant becoming stupid enough to lose what he dreamed of, then he needed to get over it.

He would.

He told himself that all the way back inside.