She doesn’t mean to see him — not like this. Not with his hand tucked into the back pocket of another girl’s jeans, laughing at something she says like it doesn’t cost him anything.

Her chest goes tight. She pushes past a knot of gossiping students and grabs Joey’s wrist, ignoring the curious glances and the other girl’s scoff of protest.

“Oi—” Joey starts, but he doesn’t pull away. He never could, not with her.

She doesn’t stop until they’re behind the door of an empty classroom, the door clicking shut on a thousand watching eyes.

“Joey—” Her voice cracks under the weight of everything she’s been holding back. “Joey, I’m so sorry— I’ll fix this, I swear to God, I’ll talk to my parents, I’ll—”

He doesn’t yell. He never yells at her. He just stands there, broad shoulders blocking out the world, blue eyes blank in a way that makes her stomach turn.

“Please,” she begs, stepping closer, fists curling into his jumper like she can hold him here if she tries hard enough. “I didn’t want him, I didn’t want any of this— I want you, I always have—”

He huffs out a breath, a sound too tired to be called a laugh.

“You already made your choice.”

She shakes her head wildly, tears slipping free, tasting like salt and regret. “No— Joey, please, please don’t say that, please don’t—”

But he pries her hands off him, gentle but final. His touch burns worse than any slap could.

“Hope he’s worth it.”

And then he’s gone — out the door, back to the girl waiting for him in the hall, leaving her in the echo of her own broken sobs.

She sinks to the floor, hugging herself where he used to. All she can do is cry. And wish she’d been braver when it counted.