Chapter 29 Garrett
Garrett
I don’t know why I did what I did.
Before I became a renowned asshole, I was known for being completely messed up—broken. Or, the way my mother would describe it, just plain wrong. They tried to fix me, but somewhere along the way, those two versions of me collided, and I became this messed-up asshole who always ended up hurting the people around him. The one who lost everyone he ever cared about.
But this time, I’d managed to fuck it up on an even grander scale.
With my only real friend.
Aitor wasn’t vengeful. He wasn’t petty. He didn’t collect grudges and sharpen them like knives the way I did. He was a really nice guy, the kind who forgave everyone too easily—by everyone, I meant he forgave me too easily.
But this?
This time, I’d gone too far.
Aitor had lost everything once. I’d watched it happen. Watched him hollow out, watched the light drain from his face, watched him not give a damn about life. And the only time I’d seen him smile again—really smile—was with Linnea.
I used to be jealous of her. I can admit that now.
Not because I wanted her. Because I was terrified he’d choose her over me. Over us. Over the thing that had kept us alive when everything else went to shit.
But she never felt for him the way he felt for her. So it never worked.
And still—he kept waiting on her like a lapdog. And I didn't think that was good, but people want what they want, and I wasn't judging. I just watched over him as he did over me.
Until Aslan showed up.
That was the only other time I’d seen Aitor smile the same way.
And I was judging that.
I guess when I opened my mouth in the library, I was trying to kill two birds with one shot.
And I succeeded, because apparently, destruction comes easier to me than building up.
I ruined Aitor’s chance with Linnea, and I got so far inside his head that he hadn’t met with our lion once all week.
Unfortunately for me? He hadn’t met with me either.
No texts.
No studio nights.
No hanging out.
He was upset. And for once, I didn’t even pretend not to understand why.
This was fucked up. And it was my fault.
No...
Not my fault.
This was his fucking fault.
Aslan’s.
He got in the way. Slipped between things that weren’t his. A slow-spreading virus, a plague infecting everything it touched.
First, he got under my skin like a parasite.
Then he got under Aitor’s.
And now?
Now he’d driven us apart.
And the worst part—the part I couldn’t outrun no matter how hard I tried—was that I didn’t even know if I hated him for it…
Or if I hated myself more.
We were having lunch that day, which was still a time a day that seemed under control.
My table. The four of us. Same routine as always—same kinda gossip, jokes… familiar. We didn’t always need to talk. Sometimes just sitting there, breathing the same air, was enough. A pause from everything else.
I needed that.
Across the room, James’s voice rose suddenly—too loud, saying something dumb I couldn’t quite hear.
And then he laughed. Narnia boy.
Not loud. Just enough to carry.
I felt it snap through me anyway.
Here I was, barely holding myself together, and the one responsible for all my misery thought he was entitled to laugh?
The sound hit me wrong. And just like that, the anger came rushing back, hot and familiar, drowning out whatever fragile calm I’d managed to scrape together.
I clenched my jaw and stared right at him, daring.
Before I could finish my train of thought, Aslan stood and walked toward us…? No, toward Aitor, who was dumping his tray into the bin. He handed him something—a folded piece of paper.
Aitor looked at it attentively, then nodded, and pressed his hand briefly to his chest, like an apology. He patted Aslan’s shoulder and headed back toward the table while I watched Aslan leave the cafeteria, stunned.
Did they just make plans again?
Neither my best friend nor my enemy was talking to me, but they were making fucking plans?
The lunch bell rang. My next class was two doors from the cafeteria, but I bolted from my chair anyway, ignoring the guys asking where the hell I was going.
My feet took me to his locker.
I stopped a few steps back and watched him switch books in his bag, calm like nothing had happened. All I wanted was to shove him. Corner him. Kiss him—or beat him. Be the one who made him laugh—or cry.
Both second options made more sense.
Something sharp twisted in my head. My wrist itched inside the watchband, bad enough to make me flex my fingers. The craving surged up again, sudden and violent. It had never been this strong before.
A bitter taste flooded my mouth.
This was why I wanted him gone. He was hurting me. And I was hurting everyone around me. He was changing things. Dragging things back to the surface.
All it would take was for him to touch me, to breathe too close right now, and I would—
Suddenly I was next to him.
I didn’t know how it happened. One second I was watching, the next I was in his space, right in his face.
“Are you fucking with me?” I demanded.
He startled, then sighed. “What now, Garrett?”
“I told you to stay away from me. To stay away from my goddamn people,” I snapped. “You’ve brought nothing but trouble—”
“I’ve done nothing to you, Garrett,” he cut in.
“You keep fucking with my head. With my space. With my peace.” My voice was slipping, my control thinning. “You’re fucking with my friends.”
By then, a small crowd had started to gather, bodies edging closer, sensing blood.
He reached out, his hand landing on my shoulder. “Look, I really don’t want to fight with you anymore, okay?” There was something close to pleading in his voice.
I flipped.
I smacked his hand away hard. “I told you not to ever—ever—touch me like that.”
Something manic unfurled inside me, hot and electric, pumping through my veins. I felt high. Unstable. Like I was standing on the edge of a cliff and leaning forward.
I shoved my hands against his chest, held them there for a beat—threatening him, hating myself for noticing how solid he felt under my palms.
Instead of backing away, he stepped closer.
It threw me off.
“Or what?” he murmured. “Are you gonna kiss me again?”
My heart nearly stopped.
I glanced around instinctively, checking who might’ve heard him. The hallway was busy—too busy to know for sure. Faces, bodies, noise. No privacy. No safety.
And even though a part of me wanted to do exactly what he said, fear and rage took over.
I shoved him as hard as I could.
His back slammed into the lockers with a metallic crash that echoed down the hall. Heads turned instantly. People slowed. A loose circle formed, instinctive and hungry.
The monster in me surged.