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Chapter 32
Bree
By the time the bonfire’s heat seeped into my skin, I’d almost convinced myself this day hadn’t been a disaster. Almost. The glow of the flames licked the darkness, crackling in steady rhythm, wrapping me in its warmth as if it could burn away all the ugliness clinging to me. For a little while,
I let it. For a little while, I pretended my morning hadn’t been shredded by an email that threatened my future, or that the scholarship I’d worked my whole life for wasn’t dangling by a thread. I even managed to forget the whisper in the back of my mind-the one that hissed that when this camp
ended, my life as I knew it would too.
Gage helped with that. Honestly, he was the only reason I wasn’t curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling and crying myself raw. He hadn’t left my side all day. Not once. Instead, he lounged beside me in the sun like it was the easiest thing in the world, keeping me tethered to earth while I hid inside the familiar comfort of a well-worn story on my k****e. Every time a tiny laugh slipped out of me, he’d tilt his head, curious, and ask, “What’s so funny, gorgeous?” Then he’d lean over my shoulder, reading the line that had made me smile. Sometimes he’d c**k a brow, teasing, other times he’d just shake his head with that soft grin-the kind that made my chest ache in the best
way.
It was quiet, easy. Safe. Sitting there with his fingers absentmindedly playing with strands of my hair, his warmth seeping into me even though the sun was already doing the same. Every so often, I’d glance up from my book, and he’d lean in without hesitation, stealing a gentle kiss before lying back again. Like kissing me was as natural as breathing for him.
For a little while, I felt… okay. Like maybe this summer could be more than pain and shame. Like maybe the weight on my chest wasn’t permanent.
That fragile happiness splintered the moment Gabriella sat down across from me.
She didn’t flop into her seat like everyone else; she lowered herself with calculated poise, her posture sharp, her gaze sharper. Her eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, and my pulse skipped.
“I heard you tell scary stories here,” she announced loudly, her voice slicing through the hum of
conversation.
The effect was instant. The chatter around the fire fizzled into silence, the only sound the snap and hiss of the flames. I felt the collective attention shift, all those curious eyes darting between us. My stomach dropped, twisting itself into a knot.
I felt Gage’s gaze before I even looked for it. From a few seats over with Miguel and Kenneth, his eyes were on me, green and piercing, trying to read the unspoken current between me and Gabriella. I didn’t want him to see my panic, so I kept my eyes fixed on my lap, nails digging into my
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Rachel, ever the peacemaker, gave Gabriella a small, pleasant smile. “Scary stories are always welcome around a bonfire, Gabriella.”
But Gabriella’s answering smile wasn’t pleasant at all. It was sharp and vicious, like the curve of a knife. Her narrowed eyes didn’t leave me as she said, “Good. Because I have one that will make you s**t your pants.”
A shiver raced down my spine despite the heat of the fire. My heart stuttered, then picked up speed until it thundered in my chest, each beat a warning drum. She wouldn’t. Not here. Not in front of everyone. She wouldn’t actually… would she?
Of course she would. That was exactly who Gabriella was.
“I know this girl, right?” she began, voice deceptively casual as she glanced around the circle-just for show-before locking eyes with me again like a predator toying with its prey. “She’s amazing. Good grades. Cheerleading team. Hot and heavy with the quarterback at her school.”
Each word landed like a slap, a slow unpeeling of the scab I’d fought to keep over that wound. My throat tightened.
My eyes flickered around the fire. Everyone was watching her now, hanging on her words whether they liked her or not. That was the thing about Gabriella-people couldn’t look away, even when they hated her. And I felt my own walls start to crumble under the weight of their stares.
“Her and her boyfriend were going through something,” she continued with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We all know the drill, right? Together for a while and suddenly you’re like, ‘Should we even be together?’ That kind of stuff.”
I dropped my gaze, staring at my hands clamped between my thighs. My fingers twisted together painfully, as if maybe the sting in my knuckles could distract from the sting in my chest. I closed my eyes, and the familiar pressure of tears burned at the corners. I begged them not to fall. Not
here. Not like this.
Because soon-God, soon-everything would change. There’d be no more peaceful mornings with Gage running beside me, no more afternoons spent reading under the sun while he traced lazy patterns in my hair. No more cooking classes or quiet moments that made me feel almost normal.
He would know. He would hear the version of the story everyone preferred to believe. The ugly one. The humiliating one. And then he’d look at me differently-if he looked at me at all.
“Well, this girl I know, she was still madly in love with her boyfriend, of course,” Gabriella continued smoothly. “I mean, they’d been together since middle school or something.”
A lie, but I already knew she wouldn’t care if I tried to correct it. Facts didn’t matter when a cruel story sounded better.
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“So one day she’s in the cafeteria, minding her own business, eating lunch with friends, when this other girl comes right up and literally throws herself at her boyfriend.”
I flinched before I could stop myself, my shoulders curling inward. Of course Jenna would have told it that way. Of course that’s what Gabriella believed-that I’d practically launched myself at Oliver like some pathetic, desperate cliché.
“While she wished her boyfriend wouldn’t do it, that he would just push her away. He didn’t, because, well, guys are jerks, I guess,” Gabriella continued, her voice dripping with fake sympathy that made my stomach roll. “But to make matters worse, they start dating in hiding, because-no surprise-the boyfriend tells her the other girl doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t want her.”
The fire popped loudly, sending a spray of sparks into the night air. For a moment, I latched onto that sound like it could drown her out. It didn’t. Every word sliced into me, and worse, a part of it sounded plausible enough that I knew people would believe it.
Gabriella leaned forward slightly, the flames painting her in shades of gold and orange. Her smirk widened. “So she and her boyfriend get back together, while she’s thinking she’s the only one, that there’s no one else there. Well, one day she uses his phone-trying to Google something, or whatever, it’s not important.”
I forced my eyes open, even though my lashes felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Gabriella’s gaze was still locked on me, and there was a spark of satisfaction there that made my chest constrict. She was thriving under the attention, feeding on it, every lie fueling her performance.
“When suddenly,” she continued, her tone turning conspiratorial, “a text pops up. It’s saved under a guy’s name, but come on-a guy would never send such a long message. So she presses it, and lo
and behold, it takes her to a thread between her boyfriend and the girl who had basically attacked
him during lunch.”
There was a ripple of sound around the circle, soft murmurs, shuffling. The story didn’t even make
complete sense, but that didn’t matter. The way Gabriella told it, with that mock innocence and
feigned pity, made it sound scandalous enough. It kept everyone hooked.
“In those messages,” she said with a dramatic pause, “she finds profound love declarations. And
photos. Of this girl. Posing half-naked, trying to entice him or something.” Gabriella wrinkled her nose like she’d bitten into something sour. “Luckily for her, the girl he was texting was ugly-like, all
fat all over, no sense of style whatsoever. It was basically disgusting to watch.”
The words hit like physical blows. My lungs squeezed tight. Ugly. Fat. Disgusting. The kind of words that buried themselves deep in your bones and stayed there long after they were said. I dropped my gaze again, unable to look at her, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. Shame coated my
skin like soot.
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“So my friend tells her boyfriend, demanding an answer as to why he’s speaking to this girl. Why he’s cheating on her,” Gabriella went on. Her voice was casual, conversational, as if she wasn’t
carving me open in front of everyone.
I blinked rapidly, staring at the dirt by my shoes as her words blurred in my ears. The small jabs, the deliberate cruelty-it just kept coming, a relentless tide I couldn’t stop. I tried to take slow,
steadying breaths, but they stuttered on the way out. Beside me, I felt Caleb shift, his body angled slightly toward mine. He noticed. Of course he did.
“The boyfriend explains,” Gabriella said, her tone mockingly indulgent, “that he didn’t mean to. That
she”-I didn’t need her to say it to know she meant me-“was seriously stalking him, harassing him,
and he didn’t know how to make her stop. No matter what he did, she’d just show up-at school, at
practice, even his goddamn house. Constant texts, always begging for reassurance, because, of
course, she was an insecure little b***h on top of everything else.”
My nails dug into my palms, and I pressed my lips together so tightly they ached. Each insult lodged itself deeper. And the worst part? Some of the others were nodding slightly, like they could
see it, like it made sense.
“So my friend told him to break it off,” Gabriella continued sweetly, “or she’d tell her big brother- which, of course, made the boyfriend shiver in his pants. But he didn’t, and it turned out the girl he was cheating with was so deep into her stalking habits that she even got admitted into the same college he was going to. Like… trying to follow him.”
A strangled sound crawled up my throat, and I clamped my hands over my mouth before it could escape. My chest burned, my vision wavered. The way Gabriella spun it, I sounded like a villain
from some cautionary tale.
“So my friend did what she always does,” Gabriella finished with a victorious little shrug. “She got revenge. And now, luckily, it seems like there’s a mishap with the girl’s scholarship. Hopefully it’ll be revoked, so she can’t keep harassing my friend and her boyfriend.”
Then she stopped, sitting back like she’d just dropped the mic, a self-satisfied grin spreading over her face. Like she’d won. Like she’d burned me to the ground and left me in ashes.
“That was quite the story, Gabriella,” Rachel said after a beat, sounding baffled, like she didn’t even know how to respond to the venom she’d just witnessed.
“And I’ve even left out the best part,” Gabriella teased, like she wasn’t already gutting me alive.
That was when I knew.
I could sit here and let her finish me off. Let her slander me and paint me with mud until there was nothing left. Or I could speak. Tell the story from my point of view.
My eyes darted through the firelight and found Gage’s. Instantly. He was leaned forward on the
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bench, every muscle taut, his hands curling like he was seconds away from grabbing me, from storming across the flames. His jaw was hard, his eyes blazing with something protective and furious all at once.
But before he could move, before I could talk myself out of it, my mouth opened. The words flew out, trembling but louder than I expected.
“I have a story I would like to tell as well.”
My voice shook, every syllable tumbling out uneven, but I’d said it. The fire crackled, the circle hushed, and for the first time all night, Gabriella’s smirk faltered-just a fraction.
