Page 36 of First Echo

He was leaning against the bar, a beer in hand, surrounded by the usual crowd. Sam was there too, looking slightly uncomfortable as Julian held court. I hesitated, suddenly unsure about my plan. The last thing I needed was an audience for my apology.

But before I could decide whether to stay or go, Julian spotted me. His eyes lit up in a way that immediately put me on guard. That predatory gleam that made my skin crawl.

"Well, look who it is," he called out, loud enough to draw attention. "The snowboard prodigy herself. Come to show us more of your skills?"

I ignored him, scanning the bar for Madeline. That's when I spotted her, sitting alone at the far end of the bar, nursing what looked like a soda. Our eyes met briefly before she looked away, her expression unreadable.

I started to move toward her, but Julian stepped directly into my path, blocking my way. "Where are you rushing off to? The night's just getting started."

"Excuse me," I said, trying to step around him. "I need to talk to someone."

He moved with me, maintaining the blockade. "My sister, right? What's so urgent? Another snowboarding lesson scheduled? Or is it something more... personal?" The insinuation in his voice made my stomach turn.

"Julian," Sam said, a note of warning in his voice. "Come on, man."

Julian ignored him, his attention fixed solely on me. "You know, I've been thinking about it, and I just can't figure out why my sister suddenly seems so interested in spending time with you. It's not like you're actually friends."

I bit the inside of my cheek, determined not to take the bait. "Move, Julian."

"Or what?" he challenged, taking a step closer. The smell of beer on his breath made me want to gag. "You'll glare me to death? Or maybe you'll recite the periodic table until I pass out from boredom?"

"Stop," I said, my voice tight with controlled anger. "You're embarrassing yourself."

That hit a nerve. His smirk faltered, replaced by something harder, colder. "I'm embarrassing myself? That's rich coming from the girl with no friends, who spends all her time with her nose in a book because no one can stand to be around her."

I felt something crack inside me—a thin barrier between control and fury. "At least I'm not a pathetic, self-absorbed asshole who has to tear others down to feel good about himself."

The crowd around us had gone quiet, watching the exchange with morbid fascination. I caught a glimpse of Madeline over Julian's shoulder, now standing, her expression a mixture of shock and something else—concern, maybe?

Julian leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You know what I think? I think you're jealous. Jealous of my sister, jealous of her life, jealous of everyone who has what you don't. It must be so hard, being so completely... forgettable."

The words hit their mark with devastating precision, finding all the bruised, vulnerable places inside me. For a second, I felt like that lost, grieving girl again—the one who became invisible after her mother died, the one who learned that being forgotten was worse than being disliked.

"You don't know anything about me," I managed, hating the way my voice wavered.

"I know enough," he said with a cruel smile. "I know your mom bit it a few years back, and you've been a walking ghost ever since. Maybe if you weren't so busy feeling sorry for yourself, people might actually—"

I didn't let him finish. My fist connected with his jaw before I even realized I was going to swing. Pain exploded across my knuckles, but the shocked look on his face was almost worth it. Almost.

The bar erupted in gasps and shouts. Julian staggered back, hand flying to his face, eyes wide with disbelief. Sam jumped forward, putting himself between us, while Victoria shrieked something unintelligible.

And there was Madeline, frozen at the edge of the commotion, her eyes locked with mine in a moment of perfect, stunned understanding.

I didn't wait for Julian to recover or for anyone to say anything. I turned and pushed my way through the crowd, bursting out into the cold night air, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. My hand throbbed, already beginning to swell, but I barely noticed as I half-walked, half-ran back to the resort.

By the time I reached our room, I was shaking, both from the cold and from the aftermath of adrenaline. I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor, cradling my injured hand against my chest.

What had I done? I never lost control like that, never let anyone get to me so completely. Julian's words shouldn't have mattered. He was just an ignorant jerk who didn't know the first thing about me. So why did it hurt so much?

Because he'd found the exact right spot, the raw, unhealed wound I tried so hard to protect. Because he'd made me feel exposed, vulnerable, seen in all the ways I didn't want to be seen. And because, deep down, a small part of me feared he might be right. That I was forgettable. That I'd vanish completely if I wasn't careful.

Eventually, I dragged myself to my feet and into the bathroom. I turned on the shower as hot as I could stand it, hoping the steam and heat would wash away the memory of Julian's words, the feeling of my fist connecting with his face, the look in Madeline's eyes.

I stood under the scalding water until my skin turned pink, until the heat had melted away some of the tension in my shoulders. I was carefully not thinking about what would happen next—how Julian would retaliate, what Madeline would say when she eventually returned. I just focused on the water, the steam, the momentary escape.

I'd just turned off the shower when I heard the door to our room open and close. My heart jumped into my throat. Madelinewas back. I stood frozen, water dripping onto the bathroom floor, suddenly unsure what to do.

After a moment of indecision, I quickly dried off and put on my sweatpants and hoodie, then cautiously opened the bathroom door, letting a cloud of steam escape into the cooler bedroom. Madeline was sitting on her bed, looking at me with an expression I couldn't read.

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