Page 126 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

Max raised his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t say you were.”

I exhaled through my nose and turned back to the field. Clark had been acting strange since the trip—not that he was ever the warm-and-fuzzy type to begin with. But now, he didn’t just keep his distance—he acted like I wasn’t even there.

He switched seats in class, avoided eye contact, and found reasons to leave the moment I walked into a room. At first, I chalked it up to Clark being, well, Clark. But now…

Now, I couldn’t ignore the pattern. Not after what I said. Not after I asked him to be my mate.

I tossed the football in the air, catching it on the way down. “You think he actually hates me?” Max tilted his head, considering. “Clark hates a lot of things. Jocks are just at the top of the list.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“Anytime.”

We went for another round of throws before finally calling it a night. I pulled off my jersey, letting the cold air hit my skin. My arms ached, and my legs felt like lead, but I wasn’t ready to head home just yet.

Frankly, the mansion felt emptier without my father around, not that he was ever good at filling it. But there was this shadow of his presence that always did.

Max nudged my shoulder. “You coming or what?”

I blinked, realizing I had zoned out. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

We grabbed our stuff and walked toward the parking lot. A few students lingered near the school entrance, some heading home, others waiting for rides. I scanned the area, half-expecting to see Clark, but there was no sign of him.

I frowned. “You sure he’s in detention?”

Max shrugged. “Where else would he be?”

Good question.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, feeling restless. I wasn’t used to people avoiding me. Clark wasn’t my best friend or anything, but the silence was different—too deliberate. Like he was trying to erase me without making a scene.

I kinda wanted to know why he refused to be my mate. Just… hear it from him. But some other part of me—colder, meaner—kept whispering that I shouldn’t even care. That if he didn’t want me, then fine. Let him keep running.

Then, just when I thought I wasn't meant to see him today, I saw him.

Clark, all the way at the far end of the parking lot, walking toward the gates with that same stiff posture of someone trying to disappear into the world.

I stood there watching him, fighting the urge of walking towards him and seeking some clarifications. I wanted the “whys” in my head all answered.

But then, I saw him.

A man in a hoodie, just barely visible from the corner of my eye, trailing behind Clark by a good distance. He was too far to make out any details, but I didn’t need to. The way he moved—slow, deliberate, like he was just waiting for the right moment to pounce. Furthermore, there was something else. A scent. Not Sulphur, not quite human. Wrong. it set off a cold alarm in my chest.

I instinctively picked up my pace, my mind racing. Clark hadn’t noticed him yet, and that bugged me even more. Why wasn’t he paying attention? Was he just lost in his own world, or was something else going on?

The man in the hoodie took another slow step, and I felt my pulse pick up. This wasn’t just some random guy. Something about his movements felt deliberate, too precise to be coincidence. I had to get closer, but I didn’t want to alert either of them to my presence.

I ducked behind a row of cars, trying to get a better look.

Clark reached the gate, pausing for a moment. I swore I saw him glance over his shoulder, but if he saw the man, he didn’t react. The man, however, was still moving in a steady, stalking rhythm, closing the gap slowly.

I couldn’t just stay there and watch. Screw it. I didn't care if he hated me. I wasn't letting him get hurt. Without thinking, I made my move.

Chapter 39: The Bruise Between Daylight

CLARK'S POV

I took the blame for everything. The sneaking out, the poor recordings, the curfew break, even the missing camera—I owned it all. Principal Catherine didn’t ask too many questions, just narrowed her eyes like she already knew the truth but was tired of chasing it. I guess someone had to be the scapegoat, and since I was the one who was supposed to be “responsible,” it made sense. Shun and Joy argued, but what's done is done.

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