Between The Lines

Chapter 124: Elegant Script

I should've opened that letter weeks ago. Maybe then I wouldn't have let everything get so bad. Maybe then I wouldn't have hurt Rebecca the way I did.

Rebecca. God, she must hate me right now.

I hadn't spoken to her since the day she'd acted out in class, throwing a sarcastic comment my way just to get a reaction. She'd gotten her detention, but more than that, she'd gotten under my skin. She always did. And I kept pushing her away. Kept locking her out of the part of me that was falling apart.

I thought I was protecting her from this. From me. From all the chaos in my head. But the truth was, I wasn't protecting anyone. Least of all myself.

Mum was right. I didn't have to carry this alone. I didn't have to keep pretending I was okay, or that I didn't need her. Rebecca had been there, waiting for me to let her in, and I had done everything I could to push her out.

I stood up slowly, wiping my face with the back of my hand. My legs felt heavy, like they didn't quite belong to me, but I moved anyway. Toward the door, toward whatever came next. Toward her.

Because I needed to make this right.

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Rebecca's POV (1st Person):

I was done.

Done with him, done with the stupid lights, done with this entire school. I couldn't believe I was spending my lunch break in the auditorium, untangling string lights for some teacher appreciation event I couldn't care less about. But here I was, trying to look like I had it all together while my brain was running wild with thoughts of him.

Stupid, stupid Lane Montgomery.

How did I end up here again? Crying over a guy, throwing myself into meaningless tasks just to stop thinking about him? It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

I yanked at the lights, frustrated when they only got more tangled. My fingers were practically shaking. I had been crying in the bathroom just half an hour ago—again—because I couldn't stop thinking about him. About the way he had shut me out, left me in the dark like I didn't even matter. And yet, here I was, still loving him, still wanting him.

It was infuriating. Why couldn't I just move on? Why couldn't I just stop caring?

I gave the lights another tug, muttering to myself under my breath. "You're an idiot, Rebecca. Completely and utterly pathetic."

As if on cue, I heard the door to the auditorium creak open. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze, hoping—praying—that it wasn't who I thought it was. Maybe it was just another student or a teacher coming to help.

But then I heard his voice.

"Rebecca?"

Of course. It had to be him.

I didn't turn around. I couldn't. My hands were still tangled in the stupid string lights, and I was absolutely not ready to face him right now. Not after everything. 

"Need some help?"

I gritted my teeth, still not turning to look at him. "No, thanks. I've got it."

There was a pause, and I could feel him standing there, just watching me. I hated how aware I was of him—of the heat of his gaze on my back, of the way the room seemed smaller with him in it.

"You sure?" His voice was soft, careful, like he knew he was walking on thin ice.

I tugged at the lights again, only making the tangle worse. "I said I've got it."