“no, that you’re a shit-talking bitch!”

sarah’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and unapologetic. she always let things slip—reckless with her words, fearless with her fire. but when it came to you, there was something different. something raw. something she couldn’t control.

you didn’t flinch.

you just stared at her, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest. the others—john b, jj, pope—sat frozen, eyebrows raised so high they looked like they might lift off their faces. the bonfire crackled behind them, but no one moved. no one spoke.

you and sarah were locked in.

you used to love her. back in kook school, when everything felt like a secret and she was the only one who made you feel seen. she loved you too—at least, you thought she did. until she didn’t. until she spread that rumor. for no reason. for nothing. and it ruined everything.

now, you hated her.

and she hated you.

or maybe you both just didn’t know how to stop loving each other the wrong way.

“you always do this,” you said, voice low, steady. “you push until someone breaks, and then you act like you’re the victim.”

sarah’s eyes flickered, just for a second. “you think i wanted to hurt you?”

“you did.”

the silence stretched, thick and suffocating. the boys didn’t dare interrupt. not this. not whatever this was.

you both stood there, eyes locked, squinting through the tension like you could see the past buried behind each other’s rage. the fire popped, sending sparks into the night sky.

and still, neither of you looked away.