Chapter 15: Echoes of Us

Cody POV

I stand in the rain with Ryan, his phone buzzing in his hand, but I can’t stay. My chest’s too tight, my head too loud. Greg’s words from yesterday keep hitting me. “Fake a girlfriend.” Like I’m something to hide. I pull back from Ryan’s arms, my wet shirt sticking to me. “I need space,” I say, voice shaky. His face falls, eyes big. “Cody, wait,” he says, reaching. I shake my head fast, turning away. Rain drips off my nose. My sneakers splash through puddles as I run. He calls my name, loud and desperate, but I don’t look back. My heart hurts, bad.

Days pass. I ghost him. No texts. No calls. My phone stays dark, shoved in a drawer. Insecurity chokes me, thick and heavy. That blurry photo. Tara’s call. Greg’s yelling. It’s all too much. I feel small, like a secret shame he’ll toss away. My apartment’s quiet, too quiet. The couch still smells like him from our hideout. I sleep there anyway, curled up, missing his warmth. My throat’s tight all the time. I can’t eat right. My stomach twists when I think of him.

I go to my dance studio instead. It’s small, old, mirrors scratched up. I lock the door, flip on the lights. My shirt comes off quick, tossed in a corner. I’m skinny, pale, sweat already beading on my chest. I plug in my phone, play our song. That slow beat from the rooftop. It fills the room, soft and sad. My hips sway, slow at first. I close my eyes, imagining Ryan’s hands on me. Warm. Firm. Guiding me like that night. My feet slide smooth, spinning easy. I stretch my arms, reaching for him in my head. My heart pounds, lonely and fast.

I dance harder. Sweat runs down my back. My legs burn, but I don’t stop. I see his grin, his dark eyes. His lips on my neck. My hands slide down my chest, pretending it’s him. I spin again, faster, losing myself. The song loops, over and over. My breath comes out shaky, loud in the empty room. I drop to my knees, panting hard. My hair sticks to my face, wet. I miss him so bad it hurts. My chest aches, like something’s missing. Him.

My phone’s full of his voicemails when I check later. I sit on my couch, legs pulled up, staring at it. My thumb shakes as I play them. First one’s flirty. “Hey, dancer. Miss your ass.” His voice is low, teasing, like our late-night call. I smile small, but it fades. Next one’s different. “Cody, I’m sorry. I need you.” It’s broken, rough. My throat gets tighter. Another. “Please call me. I’m losing it.” His voice cracks. My eyes sting, hot and wet. I wipe them fast, mad at myself. I can’t keep doing this. Missing him. Hating him. Loving him.

It’s midnight when I cave. My room’s dark, just moonlight sneaking in. I grab my phone, hands sweaty. My heart’s pounding, loud in my ears. I call him. It rings once. Twice. He picks up fast. “Cody?” he says, voice husky, sleepy. My stomach flips hard.

“Hey,” I say, soft. My voice shakes. “Miss you too.” It’s out before I can stop it. My chest feels lighter, just hearing him.

He laughs, quiet and relieved. “God, I thought you were gone,” he says. His breath’s shaky through the phone. “Where you at?”

“Home,” I say, lying back on my bed. My shorts slide up, cool air on my legs. “Been dancing. Thinking about you.”

“Yeah?” he says, voice dropping low. “What about me?” It’s flirty again. My face gets warm.

“Your hands,” I say, shy. “Your lips.” My hand rests on my stomach, feeling my heartbeat. It’s fast now.

He groans soft. “Miss touching you,” he says. “Stroke yourself, slow.” His voice turns filthy, like that first call. My breath catches. My hand slides down, slipping under my shorts. I’m hard already, just from him. “Okay,” I whisper, fingers wrapping around myself. I move slow, like he says. A whimper slips out, soft and needy.

“Like that,” he says, rough. “I’m doing it too.” I hear him breathing faster, a little grunt. My head spins. I picture him on his bed, hand moving, eyes shut tight. My moans get louder, shaky. “Ryan,” I say, voice breaking. My hips lift off the bed, chasing it.

“Cody,” he says back, panting. “You sound so good.” His voice is thick, close. I speed up, can’t help it. My legs shake bad. “I’m close,” I gasp, gripping the sheets with my free hand. Sweat beads on my chest.

“Me too,” he says, quick. “Together.” His groan’s low, deep. It pushes me over. I come hard, moaning loud, spilling over my hand. My back arches, toes curling. I hear him lose it too, a rough “Fuck, Cody,” through the phone. We’re synced, falling apart together. My breath’s ragged, loud in the dark. My body shakes, sinking into the bed.

We don’t talk for a minute. Just breathe. Heavy. Then he laughs, soft and tired. “Missed that,” he says. My heart flips, warm and dumb.

“Yeah,” I say, smiling small. My voice is hoarse. I wipe my hand on my shorts, messy but too lazy to care. “Missed you.”

“Come back,” he says, pleading quiet. His voice cracks again. My chest tightens. I want to. Bad. But Greg’s words still sting. That photo. Tara. All of it.

“Soon,” I say, gasping still. “Promise.” My eyes get heavy. His voice tethers me, like a thread pulling me back. Fragile but there.

“Okay,” he says, soft. “Night, dancer.” He sounds sleepy, happy. My heart swells up.

“Night,” I say, thumb brushing the phone. The call ends. I drop it on my chest, staring at the ceiling. My body’s warm, buzzing. I feel him, even miles away. My shorts stick to me, damp. I kick them off, curling under the blanket. Sleep pulls at me, slow and good. I’m almost out, drifting with his voice in my head.

Then my phone buzzes. Sharp. Once. I jerk awake, fumbling for it. My heart jumps, fast and hard. A text. From Ryan. My hands shake as I open it. “Check your door.” My eyes go wide. My stomach drops.