Page 56 of Shut Up and Score
“Jas…” My voice cracks. I reach for her hand, but she jerks away. “I’m so?—“
“No,” she snaps, louder now. A few heads turn, but she doesn’t care. “You’re somewhere else every time you look at me. I’m not stupid. I know when I’m the stand-in for whatever’s going on in your head.”
The words land like a punch because she’s right. She’s always been right.
I take a shaky breath, and for once, I don’t reach for a lie. “You’re right,” I say quietly. “I can’t keep doing this to you.”
Her chin wobbles, but she juts it out, angry and proud. Even if I’ve just broken her. “So what…are we breaking up?”
I swallow hard as guilt eats at me. “Yeah. I think that’s for the best.”
She freezes for a heartbeat, as though she didn’t think I’d actually say it. Then she nods once, sharp and fast, even as her eyes glisten. “Good. Because I deserve better than someone who can’t even look me in the eye before he kisses me.”
The words slice clean through me. I can’t argue. I can only sit there as she stands, turns on her heel, and storms towardher dorms, leaving me with nothing but guilt and my buzzing phone in my pocket.
I don’t move. I sink back to the bench.
Because across the quad, Micah’s still laughing. Still leaning back on his hands, knees knocked wide apart, surrounded by people he belongs with.
And I’m alone. It’s exactly what I deserve.
Not just alone on this bench, but in a way that sinks straight through my chest, stealing my breath and stabbing into me. Because I can’t even admit what I want out loud. Not to Jasmine. Not to my team. Not even to myself.
My phone buzzes again.
SmokeScreen77: You still there, Golden Boy? Or did I scare you off?
No. You’re the only one keeping me sane.
I stare at the message. Thumb hovering. My heart beats too fast, and it has nothing to do with Jasmine’s exit or the heat of the afternoon sun. It’s him. It’s always him lately.
Me: Still here. Just burned a bridge I should’ve walked off months ago.
SmokeScreen77: Sounds like you’re making your own fire without me. Want me to distract you?
God,yes.
Me: I always want that.
I don’t even realize I’m smiling until someone walks past and gives me a look. I tone it down. Slide lower on the bench. Thumbthe edge of my screen as if I can touch him through it.
Micah’s standing now. Shoulders rolled back, stretching his arms over his head like he knows exactly how good he looks when he does it. I tear my gaze away, pulse skidding sideways.
He catches me looking as he moves to the brick wall and takes a seat.
Just a flicker of eye contact across the quad. A raised brow. A crooked smirk. Then he turns his attention to his phone as if he couldn’t care less. But hesawme.
And I can’t help but wonder…what if itishim?
No. That’s insane. He’d never talk to me in the same way SmokeScreen does. Hehatesme.
Except...he didn’tusedto.
And sometimes I see something in his face—something softer, haunted, familiar—before he walls it off behind that razor-sharp mouth and fuck-you eyes. I watch as he types out a text, my phone buzzes, and I pull my gaze from him.
SmokeScreen77: Yeah? What would you want me to do if I was there right now?
I let out a breath I’d been holding. Some of the tension leaving me with it.
