Yannik
I can't stop myself from wondering if she ever worried about Dad the way I'm worrying about Tiago.
Has my dad ever hurt himself? I don't think so.
Has she ever hurt him? Always.
Because she's like venom. A chronic illness that keeps poisoning everything it touches. And there's no way to get rid of herâonly ways to avoid her, to keep as far away as possible.
The hood of the car burns my skin as I sit on it, but I don't even flinch, letting the blinding evening sun kiss my back. My eyes stay fixed on the campus entrance, waiting for Tiago to finish his last practice before the game.
I've been debating this all week. I even dragged myself here, waiting for him in a place he can't escape.
And yet, I still want to get the hell out of here.
Like my entire body is rejecting the idea of caring.
I know he has something I don't want to see. Something that pulls me back every time I try to walk away.
And I know how it was with her.
Every feeling she had, I felt like I was experiencing it myself. Every look. Every moment she stood at the center of the war between her predatory instincts and her wholesome feelings.
I don't want to be Savannah in Tiago's story.
But I know I will be if he lets me.
Muffled voices carry over on the warm breeze, and I straighten up, waiting for the car's owner to appear.
All this time, one question keeps spinning in my head:
Did she care about him too?
Tiago's eyes are as gorgeous as the cyan waters of the cleanest beach. I see them widen as he spots me sitting on his car, his hair damp, his cheeks still flushed from the post-training shower.
And I can't help but remember how those beautiful eyes look when they're filled with tears.
I don't have feelings for him.
Yet I hate seeing him cry.
Did she feel the same way about Dad?
"What are you doing?"
Tiago knows it's not a coincidence. I'm not here by chance. I came because I want something.
He's not stupid.
But he's vulnerable. Defenseless.
So easy to shatter when he's already broken.
"I need a ride," I lie, my plastic smirk doing its job as Tiago licks his lips, his jaw clenching as he considers my words.
"Ask Cooper then," he argues, opening the back door to toss his sports bag in. "Or TJ. Enzo. Sam. Anybody."
"I'm not talking to those fuckers."
Tiago looks at me the way someone looks at a bratty kid throwing a tantrum over the word no. I see how tense he is by the way he rubs his forearms, gnawing at his lip.
Then, he opens the front door of his car.
A silent invitation.
Tiago gestures for me to get in.
As I slip off the hood, my heartbeat picks up, drumming louder with every second pulling me closer to the inevitableâa real conversation.
Has she ever felt like this with him?
Has she ever felt anything?
The ride is quiet. The silence between us thick, heavy.
My heart pounds somewhere in my temples, and I wonder if Tiago can hear it.
He's so oblivious.
I wish he could see through me, could know my dirty story and finally understand what I can't say.
That I play with people. That I mess around and their feelings never matter because I never let them.
But him?
He's different.
Like I finally found my soft spot, and now it's all I can think about.
I don't want to be the first to talk, but Tiago won't even look at me.
His eyes are locked on the road, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles are almost white.
He's probably so pissed.
He has no right to be.
But he definitely is.
I fucking abandoned him.
Tiago's the first to break the silence. "We need toâ"
I got scared.
He has no right to be pissed.
But I have this ache in my chest.
"I'm sorry I left," I struggle. "I freaked out."
Tiago says nothing. Doesn't even look at me as his fingers start tapping against the wheel. He takes a deep breathâso nervous, so frustrated, I can feel it.
He has no right.
No fucking right.
And yet, I can't take my eyes off the sleeves of his hoodie.
"Don't worry," Tiago finally forces out. "It doesn't matter."
"It does."
The red light gives him an opportunity to look at me. His brows arch. I feel his eyes crawling under my skin, catching every detail of my body language, but I can't stop myself from cracking my knuckles.
"You matter."
It's careful. Soft. A confession I don't want to make.
Tiago lets out a chuckleâbitter, sarcastic.
"So what, you care about me now?" he asks, but his tone doesn't match the venom in his laugh.
"I do," I say, a lump blocking my throat. "And I'm scared of hurting you."
"Hurting me?" Tiago curls his lip like I just said the dumbest thing imaginable.
If only he knew.
About Savannah. About the list. About the disgust I feel after every kiss.
What would happen if he knew?
Would he still be here, looking at me like even my words are stabbing him?
"I meant itâ" I look away, trying to focus. "Back then. There's a reason I set the 'no feelings' rule."
"Right..." Tiago exhales.
My head is a mess, thoughts screaming to be let out.
You're ridiculous, Yannik.
He can't fall in love.
You hurt people. You always do.
If he falls for you, he'll get hurt.
Numbers. Numbers. Numbers.
It's all that matters to you. Fucking numbers.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I won't catch feelings," Tiago says, his voice bleeding into my thoughts. "Because I... I like someone."
I blink.
What?
"Who?" I ask before I can stop myself.
Tiago looks like he regrets saying it immediately. His cheeks start to flush pink.
"You don't know her," he says.
"I know everybody," I argue. Lie. A big-ass lie. I'm terrible with names, and I don't care about people unless I want something from them. "Who is she?"
Tiago wrinkles his nose.
"I don't need to tell you."
Fucking brat.
He's pushing me away. He was moaning my name not long ago, and now he's pushing me away like he doesn't owe me shit.
My fingers stiffen, knuckles aching, but I force myself to clench my fists.
"Well, too fucking bad that you're already telling me," My voice sharpens, loaded with the anger building in my chest. "So who is she, Big Boy?"
I can't stand the idea of Tiago looking at another girl.
It's not jealousy.
It's the feeling of your possession being touched.
And I hate feeling threatened to lose what's already mine.
"Her name's Selena."
Oh, fuck me.
"Reyes?" I ask.
Tiago nods. Silent. The answer I didn't want.
So I'm not just losing.
I'm losing to her.
Shy. Introverted. The girl who somehow ended up a cheerleader despite having zero social skills.
This is who Tiago wants?
And she's better than me?
"Well, butter my ass and call me a fucking biscuit," I mutter.
Tiago glances at me like he's never heard a Southern phrase in his life.
I clench my teeth, holding back the snap bubbling in my throat. The anger inside my ribcage is a wildfire. If I don't keep it down, it'll burn everything in its way.
I was trying to be honest with him.
I was so worried about breaking his heart.
Only to find out it already belongs to someone else.
Not me.
It's not mine to shatter.
And that drives me insane.
Because I don't want Tiago, but I can't stand the idea of someone else having him.
"You know, Cormac's been talking about you today."
The fuck it was a smooth transition.
Rough like smelling liquor with the worst hangover known to humanity.
"Why would I care?" I curl my lip.
Tiago shrugs, playing it casualâeven though his cheeks are still flushed.
"I don't know," he mutters. "He has feelings for you."
"Yeah, no shit," I scoff.
Fucking unbelievable.
Him and Selena fucking Reyes.
So this is his type? Tiny girls?
She's so much smaller than me. Little, fragile.
She's pretty. Like, objectively pretty.
And skinny. So skinny I bet Tiago easily curls dumbbells heavier than her.
"You should talk to him. Mate's worried."
"Stay the fuck away from my shit," I snap. "You have your own love life to worry about."
My house comes into viewâthe only reason I don't tell Tiago to drop me in the middle of the damn road.
The air in the car is thick, so tense it aches.
Tiago looks like he wants to say something. Stops himself.
Instead, he sighs.
Loud.
Annoying.
The tapping on the wheel starts again, and I swear, I could punch him.
"I'll tell you what," I start, unable to stop myself from making things worse. "Fuck it. I'm gonna call Cormac. Right now."
Tiago pulls up to the curb.
I yank the door open, desperate for air.
"Okay," he murmurs.
I storm out of the car, hesitating right before slamming the door.
"The tutoring isn't off though," I throw over my shoulder. "I fucking need the recommendation letter I was promised."
I don't wait for a reply. Just slam the door and march toward my house.
The idea of him with Selena pounds against my skull, engraving itself into my brain like something I'll never be able to forget.
My hands move on their own, digging my phone out of my pocket.
I don't see the letters as I pull up the right contact.
I don't think.
I just hit call.
"Yannik?" Cormac's voice filters through the speaker.
My key slides into the lock.
I hesitate.
Look back.
Tiago's car is still there, and I know he's watching me.
"Sorry, I just didn't expect you to call," Cormac chuckles. "What's wrong?"
I don't take my eyes off the black car at the curb.
Two can play this game, Big Boy.
"Wanna go on a date with me?"