-
POV: Ava Carter
By Wednesday morning, I regretted everything.
Every word I'd said. Every glance I'd let linger. Every breath I wasted thinking maybe—just maybe—Jace Collins was the same egotistical backstabber I'd spent years trying to avoid.
Because by lunch, I knew better.
It started with a rumor.
"I heard Jace told Coach Barrett Ava was flaking on the project."
That's what Madison whispered behind me in line for the vending machine, her voice low but sharp enough to cut.
I turned before I could stop myself. "What?"
She blinked. "Oh—didn't realize you were right there."
"Say it again," I demanded, stepping closer.
Madison shrugged, tossing her perfectly flat-ironed hair over one shoulder. "Just repeating what I heard. Guess he said you weren't pulling your weight and might tank his grade."
I stared at her like the words didn't make sense. Because they didn't.
That wasn't the Jace who followed me out of chem class. That wasn't the boy who handed me tissues and said he wasn't here because of the project.
Right?
Except the moment I stepped into the cafeteria, I saw him—surrounded by the soccer crew, laughing like nothing mattered. Like my world hadn't cracked open two hours ago.
And when his eyes landed on mine?
He looked away.
Not guilty.
Just uninterested.
And that hurt worse than the rumor.
So I did what I always did when I didn't want to cry in public.
I got angry.
---
In sixth period, I barely held it together.
Every time I looked at the empty seat at the back —the one Jace hadn't filled in two days—I felt a toxic blend of embarrassment and fury rise up like bile.
Had I been that easy?
Did one conversation and a pack of tissues really undo years of rivalry?
Worse—had he played me?
No. That wasn't possible.
Was it?
I opened our shared Google Doc, pretending to focus while my fingers hovered above the keyboard. The last edit was his. Last night. He'd added a bunch of references and cleaned up the citations.
Helpful. Thoughtful.
Fake?
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
And when class ended, I stormed out like the floor was on fire beneath me.
---
After school, I found Layla waiting by my locker, eyes cautious.
"You okay?" she asked gently.
"Nope," I muttered, yanking the door open. "Why?"
"You've got your 'I might stab someone' face on."
"That's because I might."
Layla held up her hands. "Okay, okay. Want to talk about it or want me to pretend it's not happening?"
I hesitated.
Then: "Did you hear what Jace said about me? To Coach?"
Her face changed. Slight flinch. Subtle, but enough.
"Oh my God," I breathed. "You knew."
"Ava—"
"You knew and didn't tell me?"
"It's not like that! I didn't think it was true—he said something about you missing meetings and how he wasn't sure the project would be finished on time—"
"That's not even—!" I cut myself off, chest rising and falling too fast. "I carried that stupid project until last week. He's the one who bailed."
Layla bit her lip. "Maybe talk to him? Get the full story before you assume—"
"No." My voice came out sharp. Final. "I'm done."
---
I didn't expect to see him again that day.
But fate, apparently, had a flair for drama.
I was halfway home, earbuds in, when a car pulled up beside the sidewalk. I didn't look until the window rolled down.
Jace.
"Need a ride?" he called, all casual like we hadn't just broken a truce he didn't even know existed.
I yanked out one earbud. "Why would I get in your car?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "Because it's raining?"
I looked up—sure enough, the clouds had finally broken, and a slow drizzle was turning into a steady downpour.
"Not your problem," I said, turning away.
"Ava—"
"Save it." I whirled back to face him. "Don't pretend to care when you're going around telling people I'm dragging the project down."
His expression froze. "What?"
"Coach Barrett? Ring any bells?"
He stared at me like I'd slapped him. "I didn't say that."
"Funny. Because that's not what Madison heard. Or Layla."
"Madison's a chronic liar. And Layla—"
"Layla wouldn't lie to me."
"I didn't say you were flaking," he insisted, voice rising. "I told Coach we hadn't met in a while, and he asked why, and I said I didn't know. That's it."
"Sure," I snapped. "Just casually forgetting to mention that you're the one who ditched the meeting ever since I didn't show on Saturday."
His jaw clenched. "You think I'm trying to sabotage you?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
He stared at me. "This is about what? A flash drive in eighth grade? A science fair in freshman year?"
"This is about you, Jace," I hissed. "And the way you always find a way to make me look like the villain."
The silence stretched between us, thick with raindrops and resentment.
Then, quietly, he said, "Maybe that's who I am to you. But you're not a victim, Ava. You're just someone who never gives people the benefit of the doubt."
I flinched.
And hated that it stung.
Before I could answer, he rolled the window up and drove away.
---
I stood there for a full minute, soaked, heart pounding like it was trying to claw out of my chest.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe he didn't mean it the way it sounded.
But even if he didn't… I still felt played.
Because he could've cleared it up. Could've told me first. Could've not looked right through me in the cafeteria like I didn't matter.
So yeah.
I regretted talking to Jace Collins.
Regretted believing even for a second that the boy who'd always known how to get under my skin might have learned how to care.
---
I should've known better.
Madison didn't say things just to say them—she said them to get under your skin, to watch you squirm.
And I did. I was still squirming.
Still standing in the middle of the street like an idiot, soaked and shivering, trying to stitch together a version of the story that didn't make me feel like a fool.
What if she wasn't lying?
What if Jace had said something like that—just twisted enough to get Coach on his side?
God, it wouldn't even be hard.
He could flash that charming smirk, spin a half-truth, and suddenly I'm the unreliable one.
The drama queen. The flake.
I clenched my fists at my sides.
I hated how easy it was to believe.
Hated that my brain latched onto every worst-case scenario like it was gospel.
But that's what Jace did—he made you second-guess.
He made you feel like you were either overreacting… or not reacting enough...