Chapter 55 HARPER
Cassie slumped against the locker beside mine like she had just staggered out of a battlefield.
“I swear our history teacher hates me,” she groaned. “Look at this. Look at it, Harper.”
She shoved her paper in my face. A bold, angry-looking 62 glared up at me like it wanted to pick a fight.
“Oh… wow,” I said softly.
Cassie made a wounded noise. “I studied all night. Literal migraine-level studying.”
I reached out and squeezed her arm. “At least you passed.”
“That is not passing. That is surviving by the mercy of God.”
I laughed under my breath, trying not to draw attention. The hallway was packed with students finishing their morning classes. The usual chatter, lockers clanging, and sneakers squeaking filled the air.
“Maybe you can ask for extra credit?” I offered.
Cassie sighed. “I already did. She said I need to rely less on SparkNotes.”
“That’s… probably fair.”
Cassie gave me a look. “Whose side are you on?”
Before I could answer, someone draped an arm dramatically over Cassie’s shoulder. Peter.
“Bad news, we all failed something,” he announced. “Except Kane, because teachers give him A’s just to avoid talking to him.”
Kane shrugged. “I radiate antisocial energy.”
Jax snorted. “You radiate serial killer energy.”
Billy slapped his hand against Jax’s chest. “And that is why we stay on his good side.”
Cassie perked up slightly, comforted by their presence, and Peter peeked over her shoulder at the paper in her hand.
“Oof. Sixty-two? That is tough. My condolences.”
“Peter,” Cassie groaned. “Just say something comforting.”
“You tried your best?”
Cassie glared.
“You… suffered admirably?”
She pushed his face away. “Never mind. I want Harper back.”
I laughed again, but my heart wasn’t fully in it. Because out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tyler weaving through the crowd toward us.
He had his jumper on, one sleeve rolled back to the elbow, jaw clenched like he was fighting with himself. He looked tired. Not physically, but the kind of tired that sat deep in the eyes.
The crowd parted for him the way it always did. People stepped aside instinctively, like he was a dark cloud moving through them. One day he's in a good mood, the next day he's not. It's almost like no one knew which version of him they would get anymore.
But when his eyes met mine, some of that coldness melted away.
“Hey,” he said quietly, unzipping his bag.
My stomach flipped. I hated how easy and automatic that reaction had become.
“Hey,” I said, smiling.
Cassie nudged me with her shoulder. I pretended not to notice.
Tyler shoved a folded paper deeper into the pocket he had unzipped. Too late. I saw the way he hid it—fast, and guilty.
“So, how was the test?” I asked slowly, “is that your score?”
He froze like a deer in headlights. “No.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Bro, that was the worst lie I've ever heard.”
Jax crossed his arms. “If you say it’s a B, I’m calling the cops on you for obstruction of justice.”
Billy reached for Tyler’s bag. “Hand it over.”
Tyler tightened the strap and stepped back. “No.”
Which only made everyone suspicious.
I gave him a skeptical look, my lips tugging into a faint smile knowing exactly it was what he was hiding. “You don't have to show us. You can just tell us.”
He looked at me, jaw flexing, like he wanted to argue.
He didn’t.
I reached forward, keeping my voice even. “Or you can simply let me see.”
His shoulder dropped, as if he didn't know how to refuse me.
Slowly, he pulled out the paper and handed it to me.
A red D sat at the top of the page.
I didn’t react out loud. But everyone else did.
“Holy shit, since when does Tyler get a D?” Billy gasped, a little too loud, and Tyler frowned.
“Why don't you use a mic?” Peter cut in, defending his best friend instantly. “I’m sure it’s some kinda mix‑up or something, right?”
Everyone turned to Tyler. He ran a hand through his hair, shrugging with his good shoulder. “Relax. It’s just one test.”
But I saw the crack in his mask—the flicker of shame, the tightness in his throat he tried to swallow down. It was just one test, but it still upset him. Not that I could blame him, given he was normally a straight‑A student. I'd have been mad too if I were in his situation.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly so no one else would hear.
“I’m fine,” he said a little too fast. “Let’s go. We’re going to be late for chemistry.”
I fell into step beside him while the others peeled off to their own classes.
Tyler walked stiffly, like every step irritated him. Or maybe he was just trying very hard not to think about the test score. His hand brushed mine once, accidentally, and he snatched it back like he’d touched fire.
“Tyler,” I said gently. “You could’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“But that's literally what best friends do.”
He exhaled. “Yeah. Well. I’m not used to telling people when I screw up.”
My heart softened painfully.
“Is this because of your shoulder? Is that why it dropped?” I asked.
He paused but didn’t look at me. “Maybe.”
The hallway buzzed with noise as we neared the chemistry lab, and students started whispering and staring.
Two girls snickering near the drinking fountain didn’t bother keeping their voices down.
“Ugh, here she comes again. Always trying to throw herself at him.” One of them dragged her gaze over me, clearly hinting to her friend that I was the one she was referring to.
“She was the one at the bar? I honestly get why everyone thinks she’s the one all over him, not the other way around.”
I froze.
Tyler stopped walking.
But they kept going.
“She thinks she’s special because she’s his therapist. Now she’s trying to take advantage of the situation.”
“I can smell her desperation from all the way here.”
Tyler turned around slowly. I grabbed his wrist before he could do anything.
“Don’t.”
He clenched his jaw. “They’re talking about you.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “Just ignore them.”
He took hold of my hand then, steering me inside the lab, toward two empty stools where we could no longer hear them. But as if the entire class was whispering about the same thing too, a familiar giggle from one of Racquel’s clique girls carried through the chatter.
“Oh, you should’ve been there. She was practically begging Tyler to dance with her,” Claire chimed in, oblivious to the fact that we were sitting behind her.
“Oh look,” Racquel added as her eyes flickered in our direction. “There’s the charity case. I guess some guys really have no standards.”
A couple of students nearby snickered.
My face flushed hot. My stomach dropped.
Tyler’s entire body shifted. His shoulders squared, expression darkening and I couldn't bring myself to stop him this time as he stood up and walked toward them.
“Say it again,” he said.
Claire blinked. “What?”
He took a menacing step forward, glaring daggers at her. “Everything you just said. Say it again to my face.”
The laboratory went silent. Even Racquel, who looked confident earlier, suddenly turned a pale shade of pink.
Claire scoffed quietly, trying to stand her ground. “Why’re you defending her? She’s a nobody.”
Tyler leaned down to her level, forcing her to tilt back a little. He didn’t yell. He didn’t grab her. He just dropped his voice into a low, dangerous whisper.
“You can talk about me all you want,” he said, eyes burning with fury. “But you don’t talk about her.”
Claire swallowed, her bravado cracking.
“Tyler,” I said softly, stepping beside him before things could snap out of control. “Please. Let’s just go.”
He didn’t move.
His breathing turned rougher, as if controlled by only a thread.
“If you want something to gossip about,” he hissed, barely keeping his composure, “at least get your facts straight. Harper doesn't need to beg me for anything. She says the word, and I'm there.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. Did he just—
“You might as well admit she’s your girlfriend,” Racquel shot back.
Tyler turned to her, shoving a hand into his pocket as he straightened. “Whether she is or not isn't any of your business. But one more word about her, and I'll make the rest of your senior year a living hell. Clear?”
Claire nodded without hesitation. Racquel didn't.
I’d already started to turn away when Tyler placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward our seat. A faint gasp sounded.
Tyler jerked, pulling me hard into his chest, shielding me with his body. A hiss tore from him as the back of his jumper sizzled, the air filling with the stench of burnt flesh and chemicals.
“Oh my God, Ty! I’m so sorry,” Racquel stammered, stumbling back. “I thought it was wa—”
I didn’t let her finish. I shoved Tyler out of the way with the weight of my body, channeling all my anger into my palm as I smacked her hard across the face.