Between Us

☆ part forty two ☆

Larks pov

On the Monday the classroom buzzed with chatter, the kind of restless energy that came right before lunch. I sat back in my seat, lazily spinning a pen between my fingers as Oakley leaned over to whisper something sarcastic about our history teacher's monotone voice. "Swear to God," Oakley muttered, smirking. "He's like a human sleep aid. If I fail this class, it's on him."

I snorted quietly, shaking my head. "Maybe if you stopped doodling superheroes in your notebook and actually took notes, you'd have a chance."

Oakley rolled his eyes but grinned. "Or maybe you could just share yours, genius."

Before I could come up with a retort, Joey approached my desk, his usual cocky swagger tempered by something else—curiosity, maybe even hesitation. "Lark," he said, stopping just short of my desk. His tone was odd, making my brows furrow.

"What's up?" I asked, setting my pen down.

Joey scratched the back of his neck, glancing between me and Oakley like he wasn't sure how to word what he was about to say. "Uh... is it true about the rumors?"

My stomach twisted immediately. "What rumors?" I asked sharply, my mind racing. Had Sophie been outed? Did people know about us? God, if someone had said something about her, I didn't care who it was—I'd shut it down.

Joey looked at me like I was supposed to know. "You know... about you hooking up with the new girl."

I blinked, completely thrown off. "What?"

"The one who joined last week? The, like, drop-dead gorgeous one? Everyone's saying you two hooked up at Kitty's party."

I stared at him, stunned, my brain scrambling to process. "What? No! What the hell, Joey? That's not true—at all!"

Oakley turned to me, raising an eyebrow. "Wait. Did you get back with Chloe?"

Something in me snapped. The sheer absurdity of it, the way my name was suddenly being dragged through the mud over something that wasn't even remotely true, made my frustration boil over. "No, I didn't fucking get back with Chloe!" I snapped, my voice louder than I intended. "Jesus fucking Christ, where is this even coming from?"

The entire class seemed to quiet for a second, heads turning toward me, but I ignored them. Oakley held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, chill. Just asking."

Joey's face flushed. "Sorry, man. I just—people are talking, you know? I figured I'd ask you straight up instead of assuming."

"Yeah, well, don't," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. "It's bullshit, Joey. Tell anyone who asks that."

Joey nodded quickly. "Got it. Sorry again." He shuffled back to his seat, leaving me to sit there stewing in my own frustration.

The rest of the lesson dragged, every second stretching endlessly as I tried to focus on anything other than the rumor. My mind kept spinning. Who the hell started it? Was Chloe involved? No—Chloe wouldn't do that. Would she? Oakley tried to lighten the mood by cracking a joke about Joey's timing, but I barely mustered a smile. By the time the bell rang, signaling lunch, I practically bolted out of the classroom, grabbing my bag and heading for the door without waiting for Oakley. He jogged to catch up with me. "Hey, Lark. You good?"

"I'm fine," I muttered, even though I wasn't.

"Sure you are," he said dryly. "Look, whoever started that rumor is an idiot. Nobody who knows you would believe it."

I sighed, my anger fading into exhaustion. "Yeah. Thanks, Oakley."

We walked in silence toward the cafeteria, but the knot in my chest refused to loosen. My mind kept circling back to Sophie. Had she heard the rumor? If she had, was she freaking out? God, I hoped not. I couldn't deal with the thought of her thinking, even for a second, that I'd betray her like that. The cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise of lunchtime chatter and clinking trays, but my head was pounding too hard to take any of it in. Sitting down next to Sophie was supposed to help me feel steady—she was my anchor, my person. But everything was spiraling too fast. Joey's comment in class about the rumors had lit a fire under my skin, and now, with every second, I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of everyone's eyes and whispers. I slid my hand onto Sophie's thigh under the table, needing the grounding touch to keep me from losing my grip. She turned her head toward me, her brows furrowed in concern as she leaned closer. "What's wrong with you?" she whispered softly, her voice low enough that only I could hear.