The Aftermath
By Monday, the fight between Logan and Caleb was all anyone could talk about. Everywhere I went, I heard snippets of the story, each version more exaggerated than the last.
“Did you see Logan’s face?” one girl whispered in the hallway. “Caleb totally wrecked him.”
“Are you kidding? Logan landed the first punch. He had Caleb on the ropes,” another said.
The attention only seemed to fuel the tension between them. Logan kept to himself, his bruised jaw a silent reminder of the chaos Vanessa had caused. Caleb, meanwhile, leaned into the spotlight, his devil-may-care attitude intact as he brushed off questions about the fight.
Vanessa, of course, thrived on the drama. She flitted between groups, dropping sly comments and feigning concern while clearly enjoying the chaos she’d created.
“I just feel so bad for Emma,” I overheard her saying to a group of girls near the lockers. “It must be awful to have two guys fighting over you like that.”
Her voice dripped with false sympathy, and I clenched my fists, forcing myself to walk away before I said something I’d regret.
***
Caleb, in his usual style, wasn’t content to leave things as they were. Over the next few days, he made it his mission to win back my trust, showing up at my locker with coffee, slipping notes into my bag, and even dragging me to a quiet corner of the library to talk.
“I’m not giving up on us, Emma,” he said one afternoon, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re worth fighting for.”
His persistence was exhausting but endearing, and though I tried to keep my guard up, a small part of me started to believe him.
Logan, on the other hand, seemed to be unraveling. I caught him watching me in class, his gaze heavy with something I couldn’t quite decipher. When I passed him in the hallway, he opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself, his frustration clear.
The tension came to a head after school, when Logan finally cornered me near the parking lot. “Emma,” he said, his voice raw, “I can’t do this anymore. I need to tell you—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. “I can’t handle more excuses right now, Logan.”
“It’s not an excuse,” he said, his hands clenching at his sides. “It’s the truth. And you deserve to hear it.”
But I wasn’t ready. Not yet. Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, his expression etched with frustration and regret.
