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Chapter 25 

Gage 

“You look so tense,” she cooed, and her syrupy voice only wound me tighter. My entire body 

stiffened, every muscle pulling taut like a bowstring ready to snap. She should’ve known better by now. She should’ve taken the warning signs seriously-the sharp looks, the clipped words, the way I angled myself away from her whenever she tried to get close. But Gabriella couldn’t help herself, 

could she? No, she had to keep pushing, keep poking at the edges until something inside me 

fractured. 

My knife scraped against the porcelain plate, the sound sharp, grating, matching the way my jaw locked tighter. Every ounce of my strength was going into restraint-into not flipping the entire 

damn table and shoving her halfway across the lunch hut. The thought alone was dangerous, and I 

clenched harder, forcing the violent fantasy down. But Christ, I didn’t want her hands on me. Not when Bree had been on my mind all day, not when Bree’s touch had lingered on my skin long after it 

had happened. Gabriella’s hand on me was the opposite of comfort. It was poison. Venom 

spreading under my skin, erasing the echo of Bree’s warmth. 

“Take your hands off me,” I ground out between clenched teeth. My voice was tight, low, the kind of tone that should’ve left no room for argument. I tried to keep it contained, tried not to draw 

attention, because the last thing I wanted was Bree thinking I was running my mouth about her 

situation-about her being kicked out. 

Gabriella jolted back like I’d slapped her, but her manicured hands stayed planted on my shoulders. Her perfume wrapped around me, thick and suffocating, some sickly-sweet floral blend that clawed at the back of my throat. Her face was painted within an inch of its life-every inch caked in 

makeup-and her clothes looked like they’d been stitched onto her body. She was a walking performance, a mask of perfection meant to draw attention, and right now all I wanted was to rip it 

off and see what lay beneath. 

“What?” she asked, blinking like she couldn’t process something so simple. 

I rolled my shoulders back hard, shrugging her touch off. “Take your f*****g hands off me, Gabi. I’m serious.” My tone came out sharp, low enough to keep it between us, but laced with venom. 

Miguel’s eyes flicked in our direction, and I caught the way he locked onto us, silent but ready. If I lost it, he’d be there to drag me back before I crossed a line. 

Finally, Gabriella’s eyes widened, her hands sliding away from me like I’d burned her. She looked at me differently now-like I was a threat, like maybe she’d underestimated me. For a second, I saw a flicker of fear, and I almost welcomed it. 

I wouldn’t hurt her. Not physically. That wasn’t who I was. But f**k, I wanted to. I wanted to see her 

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< Chapter 25 

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stripped of everything she clung to, chained to a tree like the animal she acted like, forced to sleep outside the way she’d forced Bree to. No makeup. No clothes to hide behind. No phone, no fake friends to prop her up. Nothing. Just Gabriella stripped bare, as cruelly vulnerable as she’d made 

Bree. 

“What is happening with you, Gage?” she asked, her tone dropping, all faux innocence now. “When 

we talked earlier, you seemed more than happy to get to know me.” 

She misread everything. She always misread everything. I hadn’t been interested in her then, and I 

sure as hell wasn’t interested now. From the moment I’d seen Bree, nothing else mattered-not 

Gabriella, not anyone else. Maybe I’d entertained her and her little group earlier, smiling and 

making polite conversation when they walked up to the hut. But it hadn’t meant a damn thing. 

Gabriella was noise. Background. She always had been. 

Her eyes narrowed, studying me like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Like I was some 

impossible puzzle she couldn’t solve. “Is it because of her?” she asked finally, her voice dripping 

with disdain. The way she said it, like Bree was less than, like the very idea of me wanting her was 

laughable, made my blood boil. 

I turned back to my plate, jaw locked, forcing myself to stare at the food rather than explode. If I 

unleashed what I really thought, I’d ruin everything right here. Normally I hated that word-“bitch.” I 

hated using it to describe women, hated labeling anyone with something so demeaning. But 

Gabriella? She redefined the word. She wore it like a crown. If you cracked open a dictionary and 

looked it up, you’d find her picture plastered right there. 

She sighed, rolling her heavily-lined eyes like I was the one being ridiculous. “Gage, you know just 

as well as I do, that girl over there-” she gestured toward Bree without shame-“she doesn’t have 

what it takes to be with you. Being with you is a full-time job. And a girl like her? She has… 

aspirations. Goals. She’s not going to put you first.” 

I clenched harder, refusing to look over, refusing to let Gabriella see that Bree’s name was a trigger 

for me. But pretending indifference to Bree? That was like telling the tide not to rise. Impossible. 

“Me, however,” Gabriella pressed, leaning closer, her hand sliding up my forearm this time. Her 

nails scratched lightly, deliberately. “I’ll always be available to you. I’ll do whatever you want, 

whenever you want it. When you get drafted next summer, I’ll move with you anywhere. I won’t be 

tied down by school, or my family. I’ll make sure I’m there for you. Because I know how important 

your career is. I know how much you’ll need someone who puts you first.” 

That was when it clicked. Clear as day. Gabriella wasn’t looking at me-she was looking at what I could become. At the fame, the money, the recognition. To her, I wasn’t a person. I was a future. A meal ticket. An easy life. 

I leaned forward, slow and deliberate, catching the gleam of triumph that lit her eyes. She thought 

she had me. Thought her little speech worked. Thought she’d reeled me in. 

2/4 

“You’re disgusting,” I whispered, my voice as cold and sharp as the knife in my hand. Her grin faltered. “I would never in a million years be with someone like you. You’re despicable. You’re nothing. Take your f*****g hand off me. Leave me and my friends alone. And if I ever hear you talk to Bree again, if I ever see you so much as breathe in her direction, I will ruin you. I’ll make sure no one comes within ten miles of you ever again.” 

Her throat bobbed, eyes wide as her mask cracked. 

“For the last time,” I said, my stare cutting down to her hand on my arm, “get your f*****g hands off 

me.” 

Bree 

“What do you think of the ending?” Rachel asked, her voice lilting as she fluttered around the hut. She moved from one corner to another, tugging open drawers, pulling out accessories, twisting in front of the small mirror like a whirlwind of energy. She’d been calling tonight the big night on repeat, and from the way she buzzed, you’d think she was about to walk into the Oscars. 

“You’re gonna have to wait and hear on Wednesday,” I said, my voice deliberately calm as I let my eyes remain glued to the last few pages of The Glass Hours. The story had pulled me in harder than I’d expected, and I had devoured chapter after chapter until I was now sitting on the edge of finishing it. My thumb traced absently over the paper as though I wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. 

“Tease.” Rachel shot me a mock glare in the mirror as she clipped on a pair of dangling earrings that caught the light every time she moved. “You should start getting ready if you don’t want to be 

late.” 

I snorted, lowering the book a fraction. “I’m not sure I’m up for being social tonight,” I said. I tried to sound dismissive, casual, as though I honestly didn’t care. But the truth sat heavy in my chest-l knew exactly what she was asking of me, and I didn’t have the energy to pretend otherwise. The thought of standing in a room where everyone’s eyes might turn toward me, where his inevitably find mine, twisted me up in ways I didn’t want to admit out loud. 

eyes 

would 

Because yes, I was mad at him. Hurt. Disappointed in ways I didn’t even have words for. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t still appreciate the sight of him, didn’t mean I could pretend I didn’t notice how he took up every inch of space he stepped into. Gage had a presence that demanded attention, and I hated how easily my own attention fell in line. 

Before I could retreat further into the book, it was tugged abruptly out of my hands. My head snapped up, meeting Rachel’s determined stare. She stood right in front of me now, her posture all stern and unrelenting. She looked so much like my mom in that moment it made me bristle-like when my mom used to try convincing me to go to pep rallies or school dances I wanted no part of. “That isn’t an acceptable answer, Bree,” Rachel said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The book dangled from one hand as she tapped her foot, waiting for me to cave. “Besides, I didn’t even 

3/4 

< Chapter 25 

ask you a question. I told you to start getting ready.” 

I opened my mouth. “But I-” 

More Rewards > 

“No buts,” she cut in quickly, shaking her head, earrings swaying with the movement. “I’ve been listening to you humming every morning, and I’m going to get you on that stage no matter what.” 

Her words hit me like cold water, my eyes widening as I processed them. A stage? My heart stuttered painfully, thumping against my ribs. She couldn’t be serious. I barely managed to keep myself invisible most of the time-I wasn’t about to stand under lights, eyes on me, my voice 

carrying across a room. 

“I’m not going on a stage,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered at the edges. Attention was the last thing I wanted, not after everything that had already happened, not after the whispers that still 

lingered in the corners whenever I walked into a room. 

“Oh, yes, you are.” Rachel’s grin spread wide, wicked and full of mischief, like she’d already decided my fate. She tossed The Glass Hours onto the coffee table with a soft thud, not even caring that I’d been mid-sentence. “Now-do you want me to help get you ready? Make sure that Gage won’t be able to take his eyes off you all night?” 

Heat flared instantly up my neck, streaming into my cheeks until I was certain they’d gone crimson. My eyes dropped to my lap, avoiding hers as my fingers tangled together, restless and nervous. Was it really that obvious? Did she really see through me so easily? 

“I’m mad at him right now,” I muttered, more to my lap than to her. 

“All the more reason to make him drag his jaw across the floor,” she countered, grinning wide enough to flash teeth. She tipped me a knowing wink, her tone playful and triumphant. “Come on, girl. Let’s go make him salivate.” 

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