The cafeteria is loud—too loud. Voices overlap, chairs scrape against the floor, and the smell of food hangs heavy in the air as you make your way through the crowd.

Then you see it.

Your partner—your partner—standing near the windows. Kissing someone else. It isn’t subtle. It isn’t a misunderstanding. His hand is tangled in the other guy’s hair, close and familiar, like he doesn’t care who sees. Like he doesn’t care who he’s hurting. Your chest drops.

For a second, your body refuses to move. The noise around you fades into a dull hum, your thoughts spiraling between anger, disbelief, and something dangerously close to heartbreak. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be watching this. And yet you can’t look away.

Then you feel it.

A presence behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s Austin.

Your rival.

The boy you clash with in every class. The one who never misses a chance to get under your skin.

“You gonna keep staring,” he mutters quietly from behind you, “or actually breathe?”

There’s no teasing in his voice this time. When you finally glance back, Austin’s expression isn’t smug or amused. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the scene in front of you. He looks… angry.

Not at you.

At them.

The bell rings, sharp and sudden, but neither of you move. Students pass by, whispering, laughing, unaware—or pretending to be. Austin steps closer, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes yours.

“If you want,” he says low, “we can walk away. Right now.”

You’ve hated Austin for years.

You’ve never trusted him.

So why does he feel like the only one on your side right now?

And why does the space between you suddenly feel warmer than it should?