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 slls like expensive perfu and bloodlust.
"Let’s break up," Celestia said. Loudly. In public.
Heads turned. Ti slowed. I think a freshman dropped their juice box.
I blinked. "What?"
"You heard ," she crossed her arms, her thigh-high boots clicking as she stepped back. "It’s not working out. You clearly don’t care about . 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. So whispering. Others were definitely recording.
Was I supposed to say sothing?
I an, I knew her. This could just be one of her Yandere "social experints." 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 nas.
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 sha.
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 .
Right when one of those jock-titans laughed at sothing she said. She glanced across the hallway, locked eyes with , 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 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 ti 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 ? Or the calm before she hacked my ho cara 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 ?
I was in the middle of internally combusting when—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Soone was hamring my front door like it owed them money.
I opened it and there she was.
Celestia Valentina Moreau.
Mascara smudged, hair a little ssy, 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 ," she pushed past like a hurricane in bunny slippers. "You didn’t text. Or call. Or even LOOK for ."
"You blocked !"
"I expected you to use a VPN or sothing!" she dropped on my couch like it was hers.
I stood frozen. "Are you crying?"
"No." She sniffed.
"Celestia..."
She turned and glared at , 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 off. "You always do that. Wait for to make the first move. Do you even like or am I just your free crazy entertainnt?!"
"Of course I like you," I blurted. "I’m scared of you half the ti, but I like you."
She looked at with big, wounded eyes. Then, slowly: "Prove it."
I blinked. "How?"
She raised her chin. "Kiss ."
"What?"
> "You heard . Kiss . Right now. I’m waiting."
I stared. She stared harder.
So I leaned in and kissed her. Right there, no overthinking.
She lted.
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 ," she demanded, crawling into my lap like she paid rent there. "Arms. Around . 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 again," she mumbled.
I pulled back slightly. "But you broke up with ."
She looked up. Dead serious.
> "Sa thing."
I snorted. "Fine. I promise."
Instant switch.
She bead. 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 ."
And that’s the thing:
I probably did.
Heaven help .
---
To be continued...
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