Chapter 43 CHAPTER 43

Chapter 43 CHAPTER 43
I hadn't even made it to the cafeteria when Hilary called me, her name flashing over a stream of frantic texts.

"Hey Hilary"

"You're on the page!" she screeched.

"The what?" I blinked, trying to understand.

As she talked, I curiously clicked through her messages. A series of screenshots. Each ominously familiar. I squinted, barely processing her frantic yelling about my window.

Why does this look like…

And suddenly, I couldn't breathe.

On the caption, TheExposure Vault wrote: Not very full on top, but I guess this full moon rounds it up for this pretty girl.

Three slides of me in only a bra, taken from the vantage point of outside my house. Someone had stood there. Watched me. And zoomed in to my bedroom window to snap photos.

My only saving grace is that nothing below my stomach was visible, but even so, just the sight of me in a lacy bra made me want to hurl. It was posted three minutes ago. Eight likes. Two comments. Heart eyes from an older man, and a faceless profile calling me a slut.

My throat constricted as if a snake itself had wrapped my neck to choke me. Tears burned my eyes, blurring the screen.

"There you are," Cross said. He was smiling, until he saw my face. His features hardened in an instant. "What's wrong?

My mouth opened, but words refused to come out. Tears streamed down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them. Cross's eyes widened in alarm. His hands hovered over my face as if checking for physical wounds.

"Did something happen? Talk to me say anything."

I could only give him my phone. The moment the images registered, something murderous ignited in his eyes. A vein bulged at his neck with barely controlled rage. Cross pocketed my phone and cupped my face with trembling restraint.

"Listen to me. I'm going to fix this. Stay here and don't move."

With long, furious strides, he cut straight through the cafeteria. Heads snapped toward him, but he didn't slow. His eyes scanned the room once, then zeroed in on a table near the back where the art students usually sat. In seconds, he was there. With one swift motion he lifted a boy off his seat and slammed him to the table so hard the metal rattled.

The boy's back skidded through his tray of mac and cheese, food splattering across the table top. Terrified screams and exploded around him. The entire cafeteria erupted in chaos, chairs scraping, and students scrambling to their feet to crane for a better view. No one wanted to miss what was happening. My hand flew to my lips. Cross wasn't just angry; he was violently enraged.

"Delete that shit before I break every finger you used to post it."

The boy fumbled with his device, hands shaking, tapping firantically as Cross hovered over him like a blade ready to cut skin.

"Who sent these to you?" Cross demanded.

"I\-I don't know\-I just g\-get them and p\-post when the s\-sernder asks!"

"Show me," Cross hissed.

The boy flinched. "An anon-anonymous direct message," he stuttered.

The boy hurried to pull it up. Cross snatched his phone, screenshotting the message chain, and sending it to himself. And then, he tore through the saved photos-one by one deleting everything with cold, methodical precision. Not even his deleted bin was spared.

He leaned down and said something so low I couldn't hear it, but whatever it was, it made the boy go sheet-white. He ducked his head and nodded submissively. Crosd tossed the phone to his chest and stalked away.

In a heartbeat, he was in front of me again, jaw clenched and fingers twitching like he still wanted to break something. Instead, he grabbed my hand and guided me somewhere else. Even with the photos gone, my chest still throbbed.

What if Hilary hadn't noticed?

What if it had stayed up long enough for everyone to see?

How many people saw it?

We slipped into an empty classrooms in the old wing. Cross lifted me onto a table and caged me with his body, like he wanted to shield me from the rest of the world.

"I’m sorry," he whispered.

Standing in front of me, his thumb brushed a stray tear from my cheek. The stillness of the room softened the panic inside me. Enough that I could finally speak.

"It's not your fault," I said softly.

"It feels like it is."

His forehead rested against mine, eyes closed and brows pinched together like he was fighting a nightmare he couldn't wake from. Yes, some girls hated the attention he gave me, but that didn't mean it was his fault.

"I'll never blame you for someone else's actions."

His lashes lifted, revealing eyes full of something raw and distressed. "I'm going to find whoever did this," he vowed. "I'm going to trace that account and make them regret they ever messed with you."

"Thank you."

A fresh set of tears rolled down my cheeks. Cross pulled me into him, arms tightening until his hug bordered on desperate. His fingers threaded through my hair, reassuring me with quiet whispers and gentle kisses on my temple. With him here, I felt safe. I didn't want anyone else.

Cross pulled back to check me again, his hoodie damp from my tears. I hide my face away from him, suddenly shy.

"Even crying you're beautiful," he murmured. Gently, he lifted my face. His throat bobbed with a swallow, and in that moment, something inside me broke loose. Every reservation holding me back came undone.

My fingers curled into his hoodie, dragging him down. Cross's breath hitched, and before I could think twice, I kissed him.

His blue eyes widened in surprised. He stared at me, frozen as my lips shyly pressed over his. For the longest second, he barely breathed, his chest drawing in a sharp inhale, before finally, he kissed me back.

Cross stepped fully between my legs. His hands gripped my waist, tightening with barely restrained emotion like he was afraid I'd disappear.

He drew in my lower lip. "Open your mouth."

Unsure of what to do, I hesitated. Cross didn't take this well and growled, a low warning that set my spine on edge.

"If you're going to give me your first kiss," he said darkly, "I want all of it. "

Tentatively, I parted my lips. I was probably going to make a fool of myself, but there was no one else I wanted to experience this with. His tongue slid against mine, surprising me with its gentleness. He slowly coaxed me, his heart pounding so hard I could feel it through the fabric. I could taste him. Blue-frost energy drink and something distinctly him.

Though I relaxed into his touch, he must've thought I'd pull back, because one his hands held my jaw in place as the kiss deepened. I pushed at his chest lightly, but Cross only pressed closer, sucking and taking me as though he would eat me. He swallowed my cries when I hit his chest harder, finally slowing down when I bit him.

I pulled back for reprieve. "Cross,"

"I’m not done."

He caught my mouth again. Savoring the shape of my lips like he was committing them to memory.

I jerked back again. "I need to breathe!" I said breathlessly.

"What do you need oxygen for when you have me?"

"That's enough!"

He didn't listen. His hand curved around my neck and reeled me back. His voice dropped, husky and dangerous. "Not enough. Breathe while you're kissing me."

This time, he pressed his lips to mine without doing anything else, just holding it there. "Stop holding your breath," he directed. I exhaled shakily, releasing a breath I didn't known I'd been holding. "Good. Keep doing that."

And then, he started kissing me again.

A school announcement crackled loudly overhead,
interrupting us;

Nathan Cross, please report to the principal's office. Nathan Cross, report to the principal's office.

Dread filled my chest. I clutched his hoodie nervously. What he'd done in the cafeteria was very public. He was definitely in trouble. Our school never went easy on fights, and with playoffs around the corner this was not something I wanted for him.

"Stop worrying."

He covered my hand with his own and gave it a slow, reassuring squeeze. For someone at risk for suspension, he looked way too calm.

"I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

"If I get in trouble it's not your fault." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, as though willing my frown to leave. When it didn't, he drew me in another hug. "Relax. Let me handle this."

I didn't answer.

He tightened his hold. "Got it?"

"Yes," I mumbled.

"Good." He pulled back enough for me to look at him. "Now give me a kiss."

He could just kiss me. But he wanted me to initiate again. When I pressed my lips against his, he released a low, rumbling sound that curled deep inside me.

"I’ve been waiting so long for this," he whispered against my mouth.

I giggled. "What, a little over two weeks?" I teased, thinking back to when he started begging for my first kiss.

"No." His eyes open and they meet with mine, a tsunami of emotions. "Longer than that."

"You act like you've wanted me for a long time."

"I have."

"Cross," I gave him a look, silently asking him to be serious. I didn't doubt his genuine feelings, but it really was a more recent thing.

"Do you know why we have so many classes together?" He asked quietly.

"What?"

"When you texted me your class schedule last summer, the first thing I did was rearrange mine so it'd match yours."

My heart thrummed so loudly I could hear it in my ears. "But you always made fun of me," I said faintly.

"You were always beautiful to me. I just kept you off limits. And it pissed me off you weren't attracted to me."

"Then what changed? Why did you suddenly start pursing me?"

His mouth lifted in a slow, crooked smile. "A few things...and then you gave me a ten at the party. Which meant I had a shot if I played my cards right."

The hand on my waist slipped under my shirt. His thumb traced slow circles along my skin, warm and possessive. "And when I had you in that closet...I didn't want anyone else to have you but me."

I was stunned to silence.

Another annourncement cackled overhead:
Nathan Cross, please report to the principal's offce. Nathan Cross, to the principal's ofice immediately!

Cross grunted, eyes rolling in annoyance. "I guess I have to go now." He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. "Wait for me after school. You're coming over today."

I could only nod. My heart lurched painfully as I watched him wallk away. At the doorway he glanced back, giving me a reassuring wink, and then disappeared.



Cross's POV

I was smiling when I saw her.

​I was walking toward her, the high of the morning still humming in my veins, ready to drop some stupid comment just to see that annoyed little spark in her eyes that I’d grown addicted to. But then I saw her face.
​The air left my lungs like I’d been blindsided on the field.

​She was crying. Her skin was pale, her throat constricting as if she were being physically choked, and her eyes, those eyes that usually fought me every step of the way were blurred with a terror so sharp it made my own blood turn to ice.

​"There you are," I started, but the words died in my throat. My features hardened, my jaw locking so tight it made my teeth ache. "What's wrong?"

​She couldn't speak. Her mouth opened, but only a sob came out, a sound so small and broken it made my hands hover over her face. I wanted to check for blood. I wanted to find the person who had put that look in her eyes and tear them apart.

​"Did something happen? Talk to me…say anything."

​She didn't speak. She just handed me her phone.
​The second the images registered, my world went red. It was anger, a murderous kind, burning white-hot ignition in my gut. Three slides. Her. In her bedroom. In a lacy bra.
Some coward had stood outside her house, watched her, and zoomed in to steal a piece of her privacy to feed to the vultures online.

​I felt the vein in my neck bulge, my skin hot with a barely controlled rage that made my fingers tremble as I cupped her face. I had to restrain myself from breaking the phone in my hand.

​"Listen to me," I said, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. "I'm going to fix this. Stay here and don't move."

​I didn't wait for an answer. I pocketed her phone and turned.

​I cut through the cafeteria with long, furious strides. I didn't care about the heads snapping toward me or the whispers that followed in my wake. I was a blade, and I had a target. I scanned the room, my eyes cold and methodical, until they zeroed in on the back table. The art students. The "Exposure Vault" cowards.

​In seconds, I was there.

​I didn't waste words. I reached out, my hand clamping onto the collar of the kid sitting there, and lifted him off his seat. I slammed him down onto the metal table so hard the entire row rattled, trays jumping, milk cartons toppling.
His back skidded through a pile of mac and cheese, orange grease splattering across the table top, but I didn't let go.

​The cafeteria erupted. Screams, chairs scraping, the frantic energy of a hundred kids realizing a massacre was about to happen. I didn't hear them. I only heard the pulse thundering in my ears.

​"Delete that shit," I hissed, leaning over him until my shadow swallowed him whole, "before I break every finger you used to post it."

​The kid was a mess. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold his device, his eyes darting around for help that wasn't coming. No one was going to stop me. Not today.

​"Who sent these to you?" I demanded, my voice a low growl that made him flinch.

​"I\-I don't know…I just g\-get them and p\-post when the s\-sender asks!"

​"Show me."

​I snatched the phone from his trembling hands. My eyes scanned the anonymous DMs, the coward hiding behind a faceless profile. I screenshotted every word, every link, sending them to myself. Then, I went through his gallery. One by one, I deleted the photos. I didn't stop there. I went into the deleted bin and purged those, too. I made sure there wasn't a single pixel left of her in his possession.

​I leaned down, my mouth inches from his ear. I said something so low, so quiet, that only he could hear it, a promise of what would happen if her name ever crossed his lips again.

​He went sheet-white. He nodded, his head ducking submissively, his entire body radiating terror.

​I tossed the phone onto his chest and walked away.
​I was back in front of Clara in a heartbeat. My jaw was still clenched, my fingers twitching with the leftover adrenaline. I wanted to go back and finish it, but then I looked at her. Her chest was still throbbing with the aftershocks of the panic.

​I grabbed her hand. My grip was firm, possessive. I guided her away from the prying eyes, away from the chaos I’d just caused, and into the old wing. We slipped into an empty classroom, the silence hitting us like a physical weight.

​I lifted her onto a table, stepping fully into her space, caging her with my body. I wanted to be her shield. I wanted to be the only thing she could see.

​"I’m sorry," I whispered.

​My thumb brushed a stray tear from her cheek. I felt the stillness of the room trying to soften the jagged edges of my rage.

​"It's not your fault," she said softly.

​"It feels like it is."

​I rested my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. My brows were pinched together, my mind a nightmare of "what ifs." I knew why people did this. I knew the girls who hated the way I looked at her, the way I followed her like a dog on a leash. If I hadn't pursued her so loudly, maybe she’d still be invisible. Maybe she’d be safe.

​"I'll never blame you for someone else's actions," she whispered.

​I lifted my lashes. I knew my eyes were raw, distressed. I was the one who was supposed to be in control, but looking at her, I felt like I was the one falling apart.

​"I'm going to find whoever did this," I vowed, my voice thick with a new kind of heat. "I'm going to trace that account and make them regret they ever messed with you."

​"Thank you."

​More tears. I couldn't stand it. I pulled her into me, my arms tightening until it was desperate. I threaded my fingers through her hair, holding the back of her head, breathing her in. I kissed her temple, over and over, trying to anchor her.

​I pulled back to check her again. My hoodie was damp where her face had been pressed. She tried to hide away, her shoulders hunching in a sudden wave of shyness that made my heart ache.

​"Even crying you're beautiful," I murmured.

​I lifted her face. My throat bobbed with a swallow. I was looking at her lips, the pink tint I’d been obsessed with for weeks, and for the first time, I wasn't the one making the move.

​Her fingers curled into my hoodie. She dragged me down.
​My breath hitched. My heart stopped. And then, she kissed me.

​My eyes widened. I was frozen. It was shy, hesitant, her lips pressing over mine like she was testing a theory. For a second, I couldn't even breathe. The air in my lungs was trapped, my chest drawing in a sharp, jagged inhale.
​And then the snap happened.

​I kissed her back.

​I stepped fully between her legs, my hands gripping her waist so hard I was afraid I’d leave marks. I didn't care. I needed to feel the weight of her. I needed to know she wasn't going to disappear.

​I drew in her lower lip, my teeth grazing the soft skin. "Open your mouth."

​She hesitated. She was unsure, her body stiffening for a split second.

​I growled. It was a low, animal sound that started in my chest and vibrated against her lips. A warning. "If you're going to give me your first kiss," I said darkly, the possessiveness finally breaking through, "I want all of it."
​She parted her lips.

​My tongue slid against hers, and I forced myself to be gentle. I wanted to devour her, but I coaxed her instead. I felt her heart pounding through the fabric of my hoodie, a frantic rhythm that matched my own. She tasted like the energy drink I’d been sipping and something that was just Clara, sweet, clean, and dangerous.

​I felt her relax, but I wasn't taking any chances. I moved one hand to her jaw, holding her in place as I deepened the kiss. I wanted to swallow her cries. I wanted to take every bit of oxygen she had. She pushed at my chest, a light protest that I ignored, pressing closer until I could feel every curve of her against me. I sucked her lip, taking her, eating the sound of her breath until she bit me.

​She pulled back, gasping. "Cross,"

​"I’m not done."

​I caught her mouth again. I was committing the shape of her to memory. I was marking my territory.

​"I need to breathe!" she jerked back, her chest heaving.

​"What do you need oxygen for when you have me?"

​"That's enough!"

​It wasn't. It would never be enough. I curved my hand around her neck, reeling her back in like she belonged to me. My voice was husky, dangerous.

"Not enough. Breathe while you're kissing me."

​I pressed my lips to hers, not moving, just holding the contact. "Stop holding your breath," I directed.

​I felt her exhale shakily.

​"Good. Keep doing that."

​And then I went back in.

​The announcement crackled through the room, the mechanical voice of the principal’s office cutting through the heat like a bucket of ice water.

​Nathan Cross, please report to the principal's office. Nathan Cross, report to the principal's office.

​I felt her hand clutch my hoodie, her fingers trembling. She was filled with dread. She knew what I’d done in the cafeteria was public. She knew the playoffs were coming.

​"Stop worrying."

​I covered her hand with mine, giving it a slow, weighted squeeze. I was calm. I was more than calm, I was justified. I’d do it again. I’d break every table in that cafeteria if it meant deleting those photos.

​"I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

​"If I get in trouble it's not your fault." I brushed my thumb across her bottom lip, trying to erase the frown. When it didn't work, I just pulled her back into a hug, burying my face in her hair. "Relax. Let me handle this."

​"Yes," she mumbled against my chest.

​"Good." I pulled back, looking into her eyes. "Now give me a kiss."

​I could have just taken it. I could have leaned down and claimed her again. But I wanted her to want it. I wanted her to choose me.

​She pressed her lips against mine, and a low, rumbling sound escaped my throat. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated relief.

​"I’ve been waiting so long for this," I whispered.

​"What, a little over two weeks?" she teased.

​I opened my eyes. I let the tsunami of everything I’d been hiding hit her full-force. "Longer than that."

​"You act like you've wanted me for a long time."

​"I have."

​She gave me that look, the "be serious" look. She didn't believe me. She thought this was a new whim, a sudden pursuit.

​"Do you know why we have so many classes together?" I asked quietly.

​"What?"

​"When you texted me your class schedule last summer, the first thing I did was rearrange mine so it'd match yours."

​I saw her heart thrumming in the hollow of her throat.
​"But you always made fun of me," she said faintly.

​"You were always beautiful to me. I just kept you off limits." I felt the bitterness of the past year rise up. "And it pissed me off you weren't attracted to me."

​"Then what changed? Why did you suddenly start pursuing me?"
​I gave her a crooked, slow smile. The playboy was back, but the edge was gone. "A few things... and then you gave me a ten at the party. Which meant I had a shot if I played my cards right."

​I let my hand slip under her shirt. I felt the heat of her skin, the silkiness of her waist. My thumb traced slow, possessive circles against her ribs. "And when I had you in that closet... I didn't want anyone else to have you but me."

​She was stunned. Silent. I could feel the weight of the confession hanging between us.

​The announcement crackled again, more insistent this time.

​Nathan Cross, please report to the principal's office. Nathan Cross, to the principal's office immediately!

​I grunted, rolling my eyes. The real world was calling, and it was getting annoying. I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, the smell of her still stuck in my lungs.

​"Wait for me after school. You're coming over today."
​She nodded. She looked small on that table, but she looked like mine.

​I walked toward the doorway, the adrenaline of the fight replaced by a heavy, grounding certainty. I glanced back one last time, giving her a wink to let her know I wasn't afraid of whatever the principal had to say.

​I stepped out into the hallway, my jaw setting as I headed for the office. I had a suspension coming, maybe worse. But as I tasted the blue energy drink and the vanilla on my lips, I realized I’d already won the only playoff that mattered.

​The walk to the principal's office felt like miles.
​Every step I took was a mental replay of the kiss. The way her lips had finally softened under mine. The way she’d tasted. The way she’d growled back at me without even knowing it.

​I’d spent an entire year rearranging my life around her. I’d spent twelve months pretending I didn't care while I memorized the way she tucked her hair behind her ear and the specific way she scowled when I was being a prick just to keep from admitting that the only girl who didn't want me was the only one I couldn't stop thinking about.

​And now?

​Now, some faceless coward had tried to take a piece of her.

​My knuckles were still white, the skin split across two of them from where I’d slammed the kid onto the table. I looked at the blood, not mine and felt a grim sense of satisfaction. If the principal wanted to suspend me, fine. If the coach wanted to bench me, fine.

​I’d trade a championship for ten minutes in that classroom any day.

​I reached the office door and paused. I took a deep breath, trying to slow the thudding of my heart. I could still feel her hands clutching my hoodie. I could still feel the warmth of her waist under my shirt.

​So as I turned the handle to the principal’s office, I realised that I didn't care what the consequences were.

_________________________________________________
A/N: Finally!
I've been dying to write their first kiss for weeksssss bro!
What do we think?
Do we like?

Cross's POV is a new addition tho, hope you guys like..
To everyone who has supported this book from the beginning I love y'all to death, seriously 🙂‍↕️
Also don't forget to add, like and comment (I love reading your comments, makes my whole day)