The school stadium was empty.
Maya sat on the cold metal bleachers, knees tucked to her chest, staring blankly at the field below. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the sky, but she barely noticed. The wind tousled her golden brown hair, but she didn't move.
She couldn't.
The whispers had followed her all day, growing louder, uglier.
Maya's father kicked her out.
She's been lying this whole time.
Jackie's mother exposed her.
Did you see her face in the hallway? She's done for.
She had walked through the halls like a ghost, her head high, her usual confidence an illusion. Smirking, tossing her hair, pretending none of it mattered.
But it did.
It mattered when her father—her own flesh and blood—looked at her with disgust and told her to get out. When Jackie and her mother painted her as a manipulative liar, and everyone believed them. When every whispered word felt like a knife to her skin.
She had smiled through it all.
Until she couldn't anymore.
So she disappeared.
No one would look for her.
No one ever did.
Or so she thought.
A voice—sharp, angry, desperate—cut through the silence.
"Maya!"
She stiffened.
Footsteps pounded against the metal bleachers, growing closer.
"Maya, I swear to God—"
And then, there he was.
Eddie Thompson, breathing hard, dark eyes blazing, standing right in front of her.
She forced a smirk. "Aww, did you miss me, nerd?"
He didn't laugh. He didn't even roll his eyes. He just stared at her, his chest rising and falling, like he was trying to hold something back.
Her stomach twisted.
She hated that look.
It made her feel exposed.
She looked away, focusing on the empty field. "How did you find me?"
Eddie scoffed. "Are you serious? You disappear after what happened today, and you think I wouldn't notice?"
She shrugged. "Didn't think you cared."
His jaw tightened. "You really love saying shit like that, don't you?"
"What? The truth?"
"No." He took a step closer, voice low, dangerous. "The lies you tell yourself."
Her breath caught for half a second before she forced another smirk. "Deep. You been reading self-help books, Thompson?"
Eddie exhaled sharply, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. "God, you're impossible."
She arched a brow. "And yet, you're still here."
"Because I—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "You know what? Forget it. Let's talk about what actually matters."
She leaned back against the bench, crossing her legs. "By all means, enlighten me."
His eyes darkened. "Jackie and her mother destroyed your name. Your father kicked you out. And you're sitting here like it's nothing?"
She laughed, but it sounded hollow. "What else am I supposed to do? Cry about it?"
Eddie stepped closer. "Yeah. Maybe."
She froze.
His voice had softened, but his eyes—God, those eyes—were still burning.
"You don't always have to pretend you're okay, Maya," he said.
Her chest tightened.
No.
No, she couldn't let him see.
So she smirked. "But I am okay, nerd. In fact, I feel great. No more rules. No more lectures. I can do whatever the hell I want now."
Eddie let out a humorless laugh. "Right. Because being homeless is so much fun."
She rolled her eyes. "Relax, Thompson. Worst case, I'll crash at Vic's place."
His entire body went rigid.
"You're kidding."
She smirked, tilting her head. "Why? Jealous?"
His nostrils flared. "Unbelievable. After everything, you're still playing games?"
Her smirk widened. "Oh, relax, nerd. You know I'd rather sleep in a dumpster than go back to him—"
She stopped.
She had said too much.
Eddie's eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"Then why say it?" he asked, voice dangerously low.
Her pulse jumped, but she masked it with a lazy shrug. "Because watching you get all worked up is fun."
His jaw clenched. "You're impossible."
She leaned closer. "And yet, you're still here."
Eddie took another step forward, closing the space between them.
"You know what I think?" he murmured.
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, please. Do tell."
"I think you're terrified," he said. "I think you're so scared of being alone that you'd rather push everyone away before they can leave first."
Her smirk vanished.
She shot to her feet, forcing him to step back. "You don't know anything about me."
His gaze locked onto hers. "Don't I?"
She clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her palms.
Eddie exhaled, shaking his head. "Tell me. Right now. Tell me that you're fine. That you don't care. That none of this hurts you."
Her lips parted—
But no words came out.
Because she couldn't say it.
Not this time.
Not when he was looking at her like that.
Eddie let out a sharp breath, like he already knew the answer.
"That's what I thought," he murmured.
Her throat tightened. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to scream until everything stopped hurting.
Instead, she whispered, "Why do you even care?"
Eddie hesitated.
For a second—just a second—his gaze dropped to her lips.
Then, he looked away, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know."
The admission made her chest ache.
He didn't know.
But he had still searched for her.
Before she could say anything, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen.
Vic: I heard you got kicked out. Need a place to stay?
Eddie saw the message over her shoulder, and his whole body went rigid. His fists clenched, his eyes flashing with something dark.
"You're kidding me," he muttered.
Maya smirked, slipping the phone into her pocket. "Guess I won't be homeless after all."
Eddie let out a humorless laugh. "Unbelievable."
She tilted her head. "What's the matter, Thompson? Afraid I might actually enjoy Vic's company?"
His jaw clenched. "No. I just thought you had better taste."
She laughed. "You're cute when you're mad, nerd."
His eyes snapped to hers, something shifting in them. Something dangerous.
Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist again, yanking her closer.
Her breath hitched.
"Go," he murmured. "Run to him."
Her heart pounded.
"But don't come crying to me when he destroys you again."
She went still.
This time, he was the one walking away.
And for the first time in her life—Maya didn't want him to.
But she just stood there, watching him go, pretending it didn't matter.
Even though it did.
It mattered more than anything.