James
Monday morning came in like a slap.
James barely had time to brush the grease from under his nails before heading into school, hoodie on, head down, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. His limbs ached from the weekend — the fight, the adrenaline, the tension — but he didn't mind. A little soreness was easier to handle than thinking.
The hallway buzzed with murmurs. People had seen the tryout. The hit. The calm way he'd stood over Riley afterward, like he hadn't just dismantled him in front of half the student body.
They moved around him now — not out of fear, but out of curiosity. Respect, maybe. Wariness.
He didn't care. Or at least, he told himself he didn't.
Then he walked into homeroom and spotted Chloe across the room. She was talking to Harper, laughing at something with her hand tucked over her mouth.
And for a second, he forgot the noise.
Harper caught his eye, gave him a little nod. The kind you give a guy you're still figuring out, but not ruling out.
He slid into his seat and pulled out his notebook, only half-listening to Ms. Adler as she explained the day's activity: a group-led roundtable on identity and self-image. Joy.
When the groups started mixing, James found himself pulled into a half-circle with Harper, Chloe, and — unfortunately — Riley Chase.
Great.
"Look who made it out of the ring," Riley muttered under his breath, adjusting the collar of his expensive varsity jacket. "Still sore?"
James stared at him for a long moment, then said, calm and level, "Only from holding back."
That shut Riley up.
Harper snorted.
Chloe didn't say anything, but James caught the way her eyes flicked toward him. She was still watching him when the discussion began, arms folded, expression unreadable.
⸻
Chloe
She couldn't stop thinking about the fight.
Not the crowd. Not the blood.
James.
The way he moved when he wasn't trying to hold it in. There was something coiled beneath the surface — something wild and burning — and for the first time, she saw it. And it scared her. But it didn't push her away.
It made her want to understand.
She should've been focused on the roundtable, but her mind kept looping back to the night of the party. The warmth of James's room. His voice, low and careful. The sound of his little sister giggling. The quiet way he looked at her before driving her home.
Nobody looked at her like that. Not like she was real.
She texted Harper later during study period.
Chloe:
so... do you think james is weird?
Harper:
def weird
but like... hot weird
why?
Chloe:
just curious
Harper:
you thinking about him??
Chloe:
i said i was just curious
Harper:
oh, it's too late for you
Chloe smiled at the screen, then tucked it away.
⸻
James
By lunch, Coach Munro found him by the back stairs.
"Tryout went well," the man said simply.
James shrugged. "I guess."
Munro studied him. "You've got control. But control's only good if you know what you're holding back. Think about it."
He clapped James on the shoulder and walked away.
James stood there for a while, biting his thumb, lost in thought. When he looked up, Chloe was watching him from across the courtyard, her tray balanced on one hand, Harper chatting beside her.
She didn't wave. She didn't smile.
But she didn't look away.
⸻
Chloe
She didn't know what she was waiting for.
A sign? A reason? A moment to feel less afraid?
Maybe she was already in too deep. Maybe she just didn't want to admit that the way he looked at her made her feel more grounded than any GPA, award, or college letter ever had.
Chloe wasn't used to feeling small.
But with James ... she didn't mind it.
Not if it meant feeling real.
YOU ARE READING
Something like us
RomanceHe hides his chaos in silence. She hides hers behind a smile. Neither of them is as put together as they pretend to be.
