Moonbound

Chaprer Three

"Your sorry eyes, they cut through bone, and make it hard to leave you alone."

- Lost Cause, Beck

"Soaring madly through the mysteries that come, wondering sadly if the ways that led me here, could turn around and I would see you there, standing there"

- Ticket to the Moon, Electric Light Orchestra

FORKS HIGH SCHOOL smelled of wet denim and cafeteria bleach—the kind of sterile, clinging stench that seeps into your skin and makes you feel colder than the rain ever could. The morning had begun the same as yesterday, only this time I woke an hour earlier to claim the bathroom before Brielle.

    I didn't mind walking yesterday. But today the air hung lower, heavier, its damp chill wrapping around me until my bones ached. Still, I was foolish to hope Liam might allow me space in his car. I had trailed behind them like a ghost, listening to their easy laughter as if I were on the wrong side of glass. When I reached for the passenger door, his body blocked it with deliberate finality.

    I froze. His eyes narrowed, daring me to protest. Then he leaned close—his breath sharp with something acrid, his voice cutting low.

    "Not a chance."

    The words struck like ice. Amusement coating his face. He slammed the door, spinning out across the gravel driveway. Through the window, Brielle's face softened with apology, while Colby looked down in shame, too timid to stand against Liam's cruelty. But it wasn't their fault. I didn't blame them.

    My shoes, damp from the walk, squeaked faintly against the school's linoleum halls. My cheeks burned raw with cold, my hands clutched the frayed straps of my backpack like they could tether me to something solid. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed mercilessly, their sharpness magnifying every voice, every slam of a locker. Everything felt too loud, too close.

    "Hey, Lily!"

    The voice, bright and bubbling, spilled from behind me. I turned slightly, exhaling a shaky breath. Brielle skipped to my side, her hair catching light like strands of tarnished gold. She was soft-featured, pretty in a way that was easy to envy, though her eyes carried something older—sadness she dressed with a smile.

    "Have you found your way around okay?" She asked gently.

    I nodded, unsure my voice could hold steady. Her presence was a warmth I didn't know how to accept.

    But when we turned the corner, he was there.

    Liam.

    Leaning against the lockers like a king among ruins, his cracked leather jacket worn as if it were armor. Arms crossed, legs cocked, eyes sharp and glinting. They flickered from Brielle, then lingered on me. I stiffened instantly.

    "Well, look who managed to find her way here," he drawled, his words soaked in sugar and venom.

    "Liam, don't," Brielle warned, her voice careful.

    "Don't what?" He shoved himself off the lockers, too sudden, too close. "Just saying hi to her."

    I flinched—my body betraying me. His smirk deepened at the sight.