Chapter Seventeen

The moment the door clicks shut behind Jaxon, Ethan turns back to me, arms still crossed, expression unreadable.

"So?"

I shift uncomfortably. "So, what?"

"Don't play dumb, Lena. Why were you in his hoodie?"

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Because it was cold, and Jaxon was actually decent enough to offer it to me. End of story."

Ethan doesn't look convinced. "Lena—"

"No, Ethan." I cut him off. "I get that you have this whole 'Jaxon is a lost cause' thing going on, but he didn't do anything wrong. He picked me up, made sure I got home, and that's it."

He exhales sharply, rubbing his face like he's searching for patience. "That's not the point. Jaxon doesn't do things just to be nice. He does them because he likes to win. It's a game to him."

I frown, something uncomfortable twisting in my stomach. "So, what? I'm a game piece now? You don't think I can handle myself?"

Ethan looks at me for a long moment. "I think Jaxon knows exactly how to get under your skin. And I think you're letting him."

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Because the worst part? He might be right.

---

The next day at school, I spot Jaxon before he spots me—leaning against his locker, surrounded by his usual crowd, looking effortlessly smug.

And, of course, wearing the same damn hoodie I had on last night.

I barely make it two steps before Jaxon's eyes find mine. His grin is instant. Too instant. And naturally, he makes a scene.

A few heads turn as he raises his voice.

"Carter!" he calls, obnoxiously loud, drawing attention from half the hallway. Conversations pause, eyes flick toward us—because, of course, Jaxon Walker calling my name like I'm the most important person in the room is something they have to witness.

"Miss me?"

I don't even slow down. "Not even a little."

He falls into step beside me, completely unfazed, while I feel the weight of curious stares still lingering on us. "That's a lie. We bonded last night. Pretty sure we had a moment."

I scoff. "Pretty sure you're delusional."

Jaxon gasps dramatically. "After everything we've been through? The truck breaking down, sharing heartfelt confessions—"

"That did not happen."

"—and, of course, you stealing my hoodie."

I glare at him. "You gave it to me."

"Details." He smirks, tugging at the fabric of the hoodie he's wearing now. "Thought about letting you keep it, but then I realized you'd probably frame it or something."

"You are insufferable."

"And yet, here you are, walking with me anyway."

I want to tell him off. I want to roll my eyes and walk away.

But then Jaxon does something unexpected—he leans in, closer than necessary, his voice dropping just for me to hear. His breath is warm against my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

"Ethan's wrong, by the way."

I blink, thrown off. "About what?"

His smirk softens, but there's something different in his expression now—something more serious, more deliberate. "About me playing games with you."

My breath catches, my heartbeat suddenly louder in my ears. For a second, I swear he's about to say something else—something that will change everything.

But just as quickly, the moment disappears. Jaxon's grin returns at full force, like nothing just happened, and he claps a hand on my shoulder.

"Anyway, see you later, Carter. Try not to miss me too much."

And just like that, he's gone—leaving me standing there, heart pounding in a way I really don't want to acknowledge.