CHAPTER 35: I SAID PRETEND, NOT ABANDON ME

There are a few things in life that can knock the soul out of your body:

1. Tripping in front of your crush.

2. Getting called "bro" by a girl you like.

3. Your maybe-girlfriend breaking up with you in the middle of a hallway like it’s a season finale.

This is my life now.

One second I’m grabbing my books, the next, I’m pinned to the lockers by a girl who smells like expensive perfume and bloodlust.

"Let’s break up," Celestia said. Loudly. In public.

Heads turned. Time slowed. I think a freshman dropped their juice box.

I blinked. "What?"

"You heard me," she crossed her arms, her thigh-high boots clicking as she stepped back. "It’s not working out. You clearly don’t care about me. Let’s just end this."

She looked dead serious. Dangerous serious. The kind of serious that ends with either a restraining order or a kiss. There’s no in-between.

I was frozen. My mouth opened and closed like a broken goldfish. People were staring. Some whispering. Others were definitely recording.

Was I supposed to say something?

I mean, I knew her. This could just be one of her Yandere "social experiments." But what if it wasn’t?

"Okay," I said, dumbly, because apparently I have the IQ of a soggy shoe when stressed.

Her eyes flared. She didn’t expect that. Her lashes fluttered like she’d just been smacked with her own crazy.

She walked away like a storm on heels.

I didn’t chase.

(Even though my soul did.)

---

The rest of the day?

Yeah, that was hell. With glitter.

Because Celestia — my Celestia (was she even mine anymore?) — was talking to other guys.

Not just guys—the capital G guys.

The tall, perfect-haired, born-in-a-bank-account types. The ones who probably got their abs with zero effort and called their dads by their first names.

And she wasn’t just talking. She was laughing.

Laughing. At their jokes. Like they were funny.

I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I swear, one of them did the lean. You know the one. That stupid lean guys do when they’re flirting. The one that screams I bench press planets and I have no shame.

I told myself I wasn’t jealous.

(That was a lie.)

I told myself I didn’t care.

(That was a bigger lie.)

Then I caught her looking at me.

Right when one of those jock-titans laughed at something she said. She glanced across the hallway, locked eyes with me, and smiled — not a sweet smile. No. It was that sly, smug, you’re watching and I know it smile.

I looked away.

Fast.

What was I supposed to do? March over and growl at them? Challenge a guy who looked like he could use me as a dumbbell? A walking muscle tower with a Rolex and dimples?

Yeah, no thanks.

I spent the rest of the day avoiding her gaze and dodging the sight of her with them, even though my neck was doing that pathetic I’ll just check one more time thing.

My chest hurt, my brain hurt, even my dignity hurt.

And the worst part?

I couldn’t even tell if she was doing it on purpose... or if she was just that easy to love.

---

24 Hours Later

No texts. No calls.

No creepy I-miss-you videos.

No goodnight kisses. No good morning threats.

Nothing.

Was this the silence of a girl who finally gave up on me? Or the calm before she hacked my home camera and changed my ringtone to her giggling?

I didn’t know.

All I knew was that it hurt.

Which was weird, because wasn’t she the one who "broke up" with me?

I was in the middle of internally combusting when—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone was hammering my front door like it owed them money.

I opened it and there she was.

Celestia Valentina Moreau.

Mascara smudged, hair a little messy, hoodie two sizes too big.

She looked like chaos in mourning.

"You didn’t even care," she snapped, eyes watery. "I broke up with you and you just... lived."

"What?"

"You didn’t fight for me," she pushed past me like a hurricane in bunny slippers. "You didn’t text. Or call. Or even LOOK for me."

"You blocked me!"

"I expected you to use a VPN or something!" she dropped on my couch like it was hers.

I stood frozen. "Are you crying?"

"No." She sniffed.

"Celestia..."

She turned and glared at me, eyes wet and furious and unfairly pretty. "I talk to a few guys and you don’t even blink! You’re supposed to get jealous!"

I blinked. "Val, they’re jocks. What am I gonna do? Challenge them to a deathmatch with calculators?"

She crossed her arms. "You didn’t even try."

I sighed. Sat next to her. "I didn’t know if you were serious or—"

She cut me off. "You always do that. Wait for me to make the first move. Do you even like me or am I just your free crazy entertainment?!"

"Of course I like you," I blurted. "I’m scared of you half the time, but I like you."

She looked at me with big, wounded eyes. Then, slowly: "Prove it."

I blinked. "How?"

She raised her chin. "Kiss me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Kiss me. Right now. I’m waiting."

I stared. She stared harder.

So I leaned in and kissed her. Right there, no overthinking.

She melted.

I felt her shoulders drop, her hands grip my shirt, her heartbeat sync with mine. Like her body forgot it was supposed to be angry.

She pulled back, breathless.

"Now hold me," she demanded, crawling into my lap like she paid rent there. "Arms. Around me. Tight. Now."

I held her. She buried her face in my neck like it was her favorite pillow.

"Promise you’ll never break up with me again," she mumbled.

I pulled back slightly. "But you broke up with me."

She looked up. Dead serious.

"Same thing."

I snorted. "Fine. I promise."

Instant switch.

She beamed. Full-on sunshine after the storm. "Yay!"

Then she kissed my cheek, snuggled deeper into my arms, and said:

"Now if any girl so much as breathes near you, I’m skinning them and making a purse out of it."

My eye twitched. "...Romantic."

She giggled. "You love me."

And that’s the thing:

I probably did.

Heaven help me.

---

To be continued...