Carly knew she was being ridiculous, crying over something that had never even been hers to lose.

It wasn't like she'd ever stood a chance—not really. Deep down, she'd always known Jordan deserved someone better, someone who didn't shrink into the background at every opportunity. Someone confident, vibrant, whole. Not plain old Carly Reyes, Amanda's perpetual shadow, the friend who existed to make everyone else shine a little brighter by comparison. The wallflower. The afterthought.

She'd never even told him how she felt. God, she was such a coward. Years of middle school and high school crushes had taught her that much—keep your feelings locked away where they can't hurt you. Rejection was easier to avoid than to endure. At least this way, she could pretend it didn't matter. At least this way, the humiliation stayed private, tucked away in the corners of her heart where no one else could see it fester.

But damn, it stung watching Jordan kiss someone else right in front of her.

The party had been in full swing when it happened. Music thumped from speakers set up near the barn, laughter and chatter filling the warm evening air. String lights crisscrossed overhead, casting everything in a soft, golden glow that should have felt magical. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives—dancing, drinking, caught up in the easy joy of a fun night in Silver Creek.

Everyone except Carly.

To her, the whole scene felt like some twisted nightmare she couldn't wake up from. She'd watched it unfold in slow motion: Jordan leaning in, that easy smile on his face, his hand cupping the cheek of a friend Carly had been chatting with all night. Someone pretty. Someone who probably didn't spend their nights overthinking every word they said or twisting their hair into knots when they got anxious. The kiss had been brief, casual even, but it might as well have been a knife to Carly's chest.

She'd felt her throat tighten, her eyes burning with the threat of tears she absolutely could not shed in front of everyone. So she did what she always did—she disappeared.

Slipping away from the crowd was second nature by now. No one noticed when Carly made herself scarce; it was practically her superpower. She weaved through clusters of people, keeping her head down, her curls falling forward to hide her face. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she rounded the corner of the barn, away from the lights and laughter, away from him.

The back side of the barn was quieter, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb above the door. Carly's hands trembled as she pressed her back against the weathered wood and slid down until she hit the ground with a soft thump. The earth was cool beneath her, bits of straw and dirt clinging to her floral dress, but she didn't care. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them like she could hold herself together through sheer force of will.

A half-empty bottle of something—beer, maybe? She hadn't even checked the label when she'd grabbed it earlier—sat beside her in the grass. She reached for it now, her fingers curling around the cool glass, though she didn't drink. She just held it, needing something to anchor her.

Her shoulders shook as the first sob broke free, quiet and choked. Then another. She buried her face against her knees, her thick curls falling forward like a curtain, and let herself fall apart in the shadows where no one would see.

Except someone did.

The soft crunch of footsteps on gravel made her freeze, her breath hitching. She didn't look up—didn't want to see whoever it was, didn't want them to see her like this, red-eyed and pathetic and—

"Carly?"

{{user}}'s voice was gentle, cautious, like they weren't sure if they should be there. But they were. And somehow, that made the tears come harder.