Tate's head was a mess all weekend.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop thinking about Damien—and worse, about the fact that Martha looked like his ex. She kept telling herself to focus on the good things: her parents were finally back from Nigeria, her brother was home, and for the first time in a long while, her family would be together for Christmas. But none of that could stop the storm in her head.
Why did she have to develop this stupid crush on Damien? And why did he have to transfer to Salvador High of all places, just to torture her mind?
He could've stayed at his old school—with his perfect life and his perfect girlfriend.
Her mom's voice snapped her out of it. "Tate, are you okay? You're stabbing a plate with a fork."
She blinked and looked around. She was standing at the sink, supposed to be washing dishes. "I'm okay, Mom," she said, forcing the fakest smile she could muster.
But she wasn't okay. Not even close.
She was dreading Monday like it was the apocalypse. How was she even supposed to act around him? Should she keep watching to confirm if he actually liked Martha, or should she ignore him altogether and try to move on?
The last time she avoided him, he noticed and confronted her. But she doubted he'd notice this time.
With a sigh, she turned back to the dishes.
The weekend passed in a blur, and Monday came too fast. She looked at her calendar—two more weeks until winter break. Just two more weeks of pretending to be fine.
At school, her eyes instinctively scanned the hallway for Damien. No sign of him. Perfect.
She walked into the classroom and glanced at his seat. Empty. Maybe he wasn't coming today. That was a good thing... right?
She sat down, plugged in her earpiece, and pulled out her notes, trying to focus. But then she heard their voices—and her heart dropped.
Martha and Damien walked in together.
It looked like they'd come to school together. Tate kept her eyes on her notes, pretending not to notice. Even when Martha greeted her with a cheerful, "Hey, Tate," she just nodded, not looking up.
She felt guilty. Martha had been nothing but kind to her, and here she was, shutting her out because of a guy.
Once everyone was seated, Mr. Matthew came in and started class. Tate risked a glance at Damien.
He was staring at Martha.
Would he ever look at her like that? She knew she wasn't as pretty as Martha. What were the odds?
At lunch, Tate decided she couldn't handle being around them. She left the classroom and walked to the football field to eat alone. She just needed the day to end.
As she sat with her lunch, a few students glanced at her. A few months ago, they probably wouldn't have even known she existed.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Martha.
Tate, where are you?
She ignored it.
Then another came in.
Are you okay?
I'm worried.
Text me when you see this.
The guilt hit her hard. She was ignoring her only real friend over a boy—a boy who might not even like Martha. For all she knew, they were just friends.
She sighed and scolded herself.
What are you even doing, Tate?
Even if Damien did like Martha, it wasn't Martha's fault. It definitely wasn't worth throwing away a friendship she'd worked so hard to build.
She needed to go back and apologize for ghosting her.
"Tate? What are you doing here?"
Her head snapped up.
Damien.
Of course it was him.
"Nothing," she said quickly.
He sat down beside her. "You sure? Looks like you ate lunch out here."
"Yeah, I did," she replied.
"I thought you always ate with Martha. You guys okay?"
If only you knew you're the reason, she thought.
"We're cool," she said. "I just wanted a little bit of... nature."
Damien chuckled. "Nature, huh? Not sure a football field counts as nature."
"Well, it does to me," she said flatly.
He smirked. "Or are you avoiding your puppy?"
Tate frowned. "My puppy?"
"Allen," he said with a laugh.
"That's kind of degrading, you know."
"I know," he grinned. "But it's kind of funny how he follows you around."
"How is that funny?" she asked, unimpressed.
"Never mind," he said, raising his hands. "If I keep talking, I'll end up offending our lovely vice class governor."
She rolled her eyes.
Then he added, "Why don't you just put the poor guy out of his misery and reject him?"
"How do you know I'd reject him? What if I like him?"
Damien raised an eyebrow. "That last sentence just confirmed you don't."
Tate narrowed her eyes. "What would you know about feelings?"
He gave a small smile. "Trust me, I know more than you think."
Then she blurted it out. "Like your feelings for Martha?"
His smile dropped. "How did you know?"
Her chest tightened. So it was true.
"I just… know things," she muttered.
Damien facepalmed. "Is it that obvious?"
She forced a fake smile. "A bit."
"I really like her a lot, Tate," he said. "Please don't tell her. I want to tell her myself."
Every word felt like a knife to the chest.
"I won't tell," she said quietly.
"Thanks, Tate." He stood. "Lunch is over. We should head back."
She nodded, and they walked toward the classroom.
But inside, Tate felt like her heart was bleeding.