Chapter 51 Chapter 51
Angelina’s POV
Time stopped. Or maybe it just felt that way. His mouth was warm and soft against mine, and for one impossible second, neither of us moved.
Then he pulled back.
I stared at him. I couldn't move. My brain had completely short-circuited.
This wasn't supposed to happen. In my previous life as Angelina, I'd been too busy conquering packs and eliminating threats to think about something as trivial as romance.
And now my first kiss had just been stolen in the most absurd way possible.
By Caelan Thorne. An powerful and mysterious Alpha.
Caelan's expression was completely blank. Not embarrassed. Not apologetic. Not anything. He picked up the camera from the couch like nothing had happened.
"Graham, I—"
He flipped the camera over, pressed something on the bottom, and the back popped open with a soft click.
"The film goes here," he said, his voice perfectly steady. "Tell your father he needs to buy the correct type. Polaroid 600 film."
"Okay."
My voice came out smaller than I intended. My lips still tingled.
Caelan closed the camera and set it on the coffee table. Then he walked toward the hallway without looking at me once.
"Graham, wait—"
But he was already on the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I sat there on the couch, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. What just happened? It was an accident, obviously. He was just reaching for the camera. I turned my head at the wrong time.
But his expression afterward—that complete, careful blankness—what did that mean?
"Aria?" Dad called from the kitchen. "Did Graham figure it out?"
"Yeah," I called back. "It's fixed."
I touched my lips with my fingertips. They felt different somehow. Changed.
This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. It was just an accident.
I forced myself to stand up and headed for the stairs. I needed to wash my face, clear my head, maybe—
I stopped at the top of the stairs.
Caelan stood at the bathroom sink, scrubbing his hands under hot water. Steam rose from the faucet. He was using soap, lots of it, working it between his fingers with intense focus. His eyebrows were drawn together, his jaw tight.
He looked angry.
No—not angry. Disturbed. Like something had contaminated him and he needed to get it off immediately.
I watched him rinse his hands once, then soap them up and start scrubbing again. And again.
That dusty, dirty old camera from the 1980s that had been sitting in Uncle Robert's garage for who knows how long. Caelan knew it would be filthy. He could see the dust on it from across the room.
But when Dad asked for help, he didn't make an excuse. He just came over and fixed it.
Why would he do that? Caelan, who carried hand sanitizer everywhere and never ate food that someone else had touched. Caelan, who avoided physical contact with everyone.
He could have easily said no. Dad would have understood. Mom would have said, "Oh, don't worry about it, honey," and that would have been the end of it.
But he didn't say no.
And that kiss—
I turned away from the bathroom before he noticed me watching. My room was three doors down, and I walked there slowly, my mind spinning.
Was it really an accident?
Downstairs, I heard Dad call out, "Dinner's ready!"
"Coming!"
Another week passed, and honestly? Pretty chill.
The only drama was everyone finding out I'd hit my head and somehow got smarter. After that blew up around school, people kept coming up to me. Other than that? Nothing.
Friday after school, me, Mia, and Logan walked out together.
"Dude, Aria—those guys shoving love notes in your locker? I've been trashing them all week. Just saying." Logan said as we walked.
I smirked a little. "Cool."
Maybe it was because I looked better now than before. Plus that shooting thing during camp, and crushing it on the exams—a bunch of guys at school had been sneaking notes into my locker.
"Uh, where's my thank you?" He shot me this cocky grin.
I glanced at him. "Nah."
Mia snorted and burst out laughing at us.
Mia said to me: "Oh shit, almost forgot—there's this thing tomorrow. Remember? Some people from our old class are getting together. They made a group chat about it like a month ago. Oh my god, and Mrs. Weber? Our German teacher? She's like super pregnant now. Due any day."
She had no idea that the person standing in front of her wasn't the Aria she used to know. All those memories we supposedly shared together—I'd never actually experienced them with her. I just smiled a bit. "Yeah, I remember."
"Wait, you guys are doing a whole meetup? Didn't you just switch schools like last year?" Logan looked confused.
Logan hadn't gone to the same middle school as Mia and the original Aria. From the original's memories, I knew that besides Mia, Chen Duanmu had also been at the same middle school.
Mia had just been chatting happily with me, but the moment Logan spoke up, she immediately wanted to snap at him. Mia shot him a look. "And?"
"Nothing, just seems random..." Even though Logan was this rich kid who talked big around everyone else, he got all soft around Mia.
"Mhm, that's what I thought."
Mia looked pretty satisfied with herself. "Everyone went to different high schools after eighth grade, so people wanted to get together. What?"
"Can I come?"
"No."
I couldn't help smiling, watching them go at it. This was what I'd always pictured—just hanging out, talking shit, being stupid. It felt right.
The next day. I threw on some casual clothes, one hand in my pocket, and strolled out the door looking half-asleep.
Mia showed up looking nice—dark jeans, cute fitted sweater, and she'd actually done her makeup. Hair styled and everything.
"Seriously? You're wearing that?" Mia frowned. "Go put on something nice."
I looked at her. "Why?"
"Because those girls used to talk so much shit about you. How you weren't pretty, how guys didn't like you, all that garbage. You need to show up looking good and prove them wrong."
"Those girls" meant the original Aria's middle school classmates.
From the original's memories, I knew that she'd been even more awkward in middle school than in high school. Timid, withdrawn. Not only did no guys like her, but even the girls in class constantly made fun of how ugly she was.
If a girl dressed trendy, had a nice body, was tall—she was beautiful. If a girl dressed frumpy and didn't have a great figure—she was hideous. Because the original Aria dressed incredibly plain and always wore oversized, shapeless clothes, she'd been constantly mocked by the girls in her class.
I remembered what one of them had said back then: "I mean, she's not cute and she dresses like... that. Who's gonna date her? She'll be lucky if any guy even notices her."
In middle school, because of those girls' ridicule, the original Aria had been insecure and isolated for a long time.
Hearing Mia's words, scenes from the original's memories flooded back, and I felt a pang of heartache.
It was like some long-suppressed emotion suddenly exploded to its peak.
I knew this feeling of grief and despair belonged to the original Aria. This was the painful memory she'd left in this body, now washing over me like a tidal wave.
"I'm good. Let's just go."
I smiled coldly and headed to my car. Might as well settle this for the girl whose body I took over. Those middle school bitches want a show? They'll get one.
"You coming or what?"
Mia stood there for a second, then hurried after me. "Wait, hold up!"