Chapter 172
Summer's POV
One of Brooke's shadows snickered. "I honestly can't tell if it's brave or just sad. Like, does she really think wearing his number makes him hers?"
"Please," another girl chimed in, examining her manicured nails with exaggerated boredom. "Scholarship boys are like charity cases. You can dress them up, parade them around, but at the end of the day? They go back to Southie where they belong. And so do the girls who throw themselves at them."
Mia immediately moved closer to me, forming a protective wall, but I could feel her trembling with anger.
I should have kept walking. I should have ignored her. But something in their tone—that casual cruelty, that assumption that they had the right to judge me, to judge him—made something snap inside my chest.
"Desperate?" I repeated, my voice steadier than I expected. "You think caring about someone is desperate?"
Brooke's smile sharpened, turning into something ugly and mean. "I think throwing yourself at a charity case who can barely afford to eat lunch is desperate, Hayes. I think making a spectacle of yourself in front of the entire school for a boy who's probably just using you for your family's money is desperate. But hey, I get it—when you look like that," her eyes raked over my body with deliberate cruelty, "you probably have to try extra hard to keep any guy interested. Even the ones who should be grateful you're slumming it with them."
The blonde girl laughed, a sharp, cutting sound. "God, can you imagine? She probably thinks this is romantic. Like some kind of fairytale where the rich girl saves the poor boy. Newsflash, Summer—this isn't Pretty Woman. He's not going to fall in love with you just because you embarrass yourself in public."
"And that uniform?" Another squad member wrinkled her nose like she'd smelled something rotten. "Sweetie, gold lamé? On that body type? You're not doing yourself any favors. Maybe if you spent less time chasing after boys who are way out of your league and more time at the gym, you wouldn't have to resort to this kind of attention-seeking bullshit."
Beside me, Mia rolled her eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck. "Oh, that's rich," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me and Ashley to hear. "She literally has a better body than any of you. You're reaching so hard you're gonna pull a muscle."
The world narrowed to just their faces, their smug expressions, the way they said "charity case" and "that body type" like they were weapons designed to cut me open. Behind me, I felt Mia tense, heard Ashley mutter something under her breath that sounded like a curse.
"If caring about someone enough to show it makes me desperate," I said quietly, my voice shaking but clear, "then I'd rather be desperate than empty and cruel like all of you."
Brooke's smile froze. For just a second, something flickered behind her eyes—surprise, maybe, or hurt. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold perfection.
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"You sure you know what 'desperate' means, Martinez?"
I spun around. Kieran stood about ten feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets, his expression flat and unreadable. Logan was beside him, grinning like he was about to watch his favorite movie.
My heart stopped. Started again. Stopped.
Logan stepped forward, his voice carrying easily across the space between us. "Because from where I'm standing, spending three hours on your makeup just to perform in front of a bunch of high schoolers seems pretty desperate. Like, Victoria's Secret audition desperate."
Several people in the growing crowd laughed. Brooke's face flushed an ugly red, but her eyes stayed locked on Kieran, not Logan. There was something strange in her expression—not anger, exactly. More like confusion. Maybe even curiosity.
"You—" She stopped, shook her head slightly. "I don't think we've ever actually talked before. You're in physics, right?"
Logan laughed louder. "Oh, so Cross's existence finally registered on your radar? Took you long enough."
But Kieran wasn't looking at Brooke. His eyes were on me, steady and intense, and when he spoke, his voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.
"The performance was great," he said. "Thank you."
Then he did something that made my knees go weak. He stepped forward, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of soap and laundry detergent, and his hand came to rest on my shoulder. Just that. Nothing dramatic, nothing showy. But in front of everyone—in front of Brooke, Blake, the entire crowd of students still lingering after the performances—he touched me like he had every right to.
Like I was his.
Brooke's jaw tightened, her eyes widening in a flicker of genuine shock that quickly darkened into something more vulnerable. She stared at Kieran's hand on my shoulder, then at me, then back at Kieran. When she finally spoke, her voice had lost all its sharp edges.
"I see." She looked at him for one more long moment, then turned on her heel and walked away. Her squad scrambled to follow, their whispers trailing behind them like smoke.
The crowd began to disperse, the drama apparently over. Logan clapped Kieran on the shoulder, still grinning. "Dude, you just broke Martinez's brain. Did you see her face?"
Kieran ignored him. His hand was still on my shoulder, warm and solid and real. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My throat felt tight, my eyes burning with tears I refused to shed in public.
Mia appeared at my side, looking between us with barely concealed glee. "Okay, so that just happened. Summer, I'm pretty sure the entire school is going to be talking about you two for the next month."
"Let them talk," I managed to say. My voice came out stronger than I felt. "Today's my birthday. I wanted to do something real."
Logan's eyebrows shot up. "It's your birthday? Dude, you didn't tell me that."
Kieran's hand tightened slightly on my shoulder. "I know," he said, and there was something in his voice that made my chest ache. "Happy birthday, Summer."
The announcer's voice crackled back to life, calling for all 5000-meter participants to head to the starting line. Logan groaned and grabbed Kieran's arm. "Come on, man. We gotta go warm up."
Kieran hesitated, his eyes still on me. For a second, I thought he might say something else—something important, something that would explain the intensity in his gaze. But then he just nodded once and let Logan pull him away.
I watched him go, my fingers unconsciously touching the necklace at my throat. The gold planet pendant Mom had given me this morning caught the light, warm against my skin.
Mia leaned in close. "You know the entire school is going to be dissecting this for weeks, right?"
"Good," I said, and I meant it. "I'm tired of hiding."
Behind us, I heard Ashley mutter to Zoe, "Did you see Brooke's face? I've never seen her look like that."
I turned to look back at the bleachers, searching for Brooke in the crowd. I found her standing with her squad near the concession stand, but she wasn't looking at them. She was staring across the field at the track, where Kieran and Logan were stretching, her expression unreadable.
Something cold settled in my stomach. That look on her face—it wasn't anger or jealousy. It was something else. Something I couldn't quite name.
But before I could think about it too hard, Mia grabbed my hand. "Come on. Let's get you some water before you pass out from adrenaline."