The rain came down in sharp, cold sheets as they walked home, the quiet between them loud as thunder. Streetlights blurred through the downpour, painting the pavement in shaky gold. Joey Lynch’s jaw was tight, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his soaked hoodie, his breath coming in hard and uneven bursts.

She walked a step behind him, arms wrapped around herself, curls sticking to her cheeks. They hadn’t said much since they left the party — not since he saw her sitting on some guy’s lap, laughing like she hadn’t just watched Joey flirt with someone else an hour before.

It had been a night of games. Petty, stupid, cruel little games.

Joey stopped walking.

She nearly bumped into him before catching herself, blinking at his rigid posture. “Joey?”

He turned, eyes burning, rain slicking his hair to his forehead. “What are we even doing?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t let her.

“You flirt with every guy in that place. You let them hang all over you—”

Her brow furrowed. “You were all over that girl in the red dress, Joey. Don’t—”

“Because I was trying to make you jealous!” he snapped, voice cutting through the storm. “Because watching you pretend like I don’t matter hurts.”

She stared at him, lips parted, eyes wide.

Joey stepped closer, rain dripping from his eyelashes. “I don’t wanna be your game. I don’t wanna pretend I’m fine when I’m not. I don’t want to keep dancing around this — whatever this is.”

The rain was relentless. His chest rose and fell like he’d been running for miles.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, voice cracking. “And if this is just fun for you, if you don’t feel the same, then say it. Just say it.”

She said nothing.

Not a word. Not a sound.

Just stared at him, frozen in place, like the weight of his words pinned her to the sidewalk.

Joey’s expression faltered, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her silence. He gave a bitter laugh, low and broken.

“Right,” he muttered, turning away, rain still pounding down. “Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”