Elena's POV:
I don't usually go to parties. But when Ryder Carter says, "Come with me," I go. No questions.
We showed up together. Not holding hands, not dating, not anything like that—just Elena-and-Ryder, like always. And still, I let myself hope. That maybe tonight would be different.
He looked so good in a plain black tee, jeans ripped at the knees, and that lazy smile that always got him what he wanted.
We stuck close all night. He made me laugh, bumped my shoulder during a game of truth or dare, whispered stuff in my ear that made my stomach twist.
I kept thinking... maybe tonight. Maybe this is it, the moment he finally looks at me and confess his feelings to me.
"You want another drink?" he asked after a while, already heading for the kitchen.
I shook my head. "Nah, I'm okay."
He nodded and disappeared into the crowd. I stood there awkwardly, sipping from a half-melted cup of soda.
I thought he'd come back in a minute or two. But ten minutes passed, then fifteen. It started to feel weird—like I was standing there waiting for something that wasn't coming.
I looked around, hoping to spot him, but he was nowhere inside. Not in the kitchen, not in the living room, not by the speakers. Just gone.
A bad feeling hit my chest. I told myself to chill, maybe he needed air.
So I walked out the back door and saw the stairs to the rooftop. I climbed slowly. Expecting to find him on a call, or maybe just needing air. That would've been fine and forgivable.
But that's not what I saw.
He was up there kissing Jenna Collins. Jenna, tall, gorgeous, popular. The type of girl who didn't need to try to be wanted.
His hand on her waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck. His hand pressed low on her back, pulling her close in the way I used to imagine he'd pull me.
My heart just... stopped. Like my whole body froze. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. And for a second, I was stupid enough to wait for him to pull away.
He didn't.
He kissed her like no one else existed. Like I wasn't just downstairs, waiting for him. Like I never mattered at all.
I turned and walked back down, my hands shaking. The party lights blurred, voices sounded far away. I pushed through the crowd and out the front door.
My chest was burning. I didn't know if I was mad or sad or both. I just needed to get away.
Three years.
Three years of being his person. His ride or die. The one who showed up, who stayed late, who answered the phone every single time he called.
And tonight, I really thought—God, I was so dumb—I thought maybe he'd finally choose me.
But he chose her.
"Hey, you okay?" The voice came from behind me.
I sniffed without looking up. "I'll be fine, go away."
"I would," he said, "but you're kinda sitting on my jacket."
I blinked, then looked down and realized I was, in fact, sitting on a black hoodie. I shifted off it quickly. "Sorry."
He didn't reach for it. Instead, he lowered himself beside me, sitting like it was no big deal, like we weren't total strangers. For a moment, we just sat there in silence while the party noise faded into a dull blur behind us.
"I thought he was going to pick me tonight," I said quietly, not even sure why I was telling him. Maybe because he didn't know me. Maybe because I didn't care anymore.
He didn't ask who I meant. He just said, "Then he's a f*cking idiot."
It was such a blunt, unapologetic answer that it actually made me laugh a little—barely, but still.
"You don't even know me," I said, wiping my eyes.
"Don't need to. I know what heartbreak looks like."
I turned toward him. He was wearing a black T-shirt now, dark jeans, hair tousled like he hadn't bothered to fix it after a nap.
I looked away, hugging my knees tighter. He didn't ask what happened. Didn't push, he just sat down next to me on the grass, leaving space between us.
We didn't talk for a while.
"What's your name?" he asked, staring at me.
I looked over, like I had already been expecting the question. "Elena Hart."
"I've seen you twice or so in the art class," he said.
I blinked. "Oh, really? You must be very observant."
"Yep, I'm Theo. Theo Kingston. Nice to meet you. I just got transferred here."
Without another word, he peeled off the jacket I'd been sitting on and handed it to me. "You're shivering."
I hesitated before taking it.
"I'm not usually like this," I said. "I don't cry over boys."
Theo didn't look away. "He wasn't just a boy, was he?"
And just like that, I couldn't speak. Ryder wasn't just anyone. He was my person. My always. And now he was someone else's.
Theo didn't ask more. He didn't offer fake comfort or make me talk. He just sat there beside me, on the curb.