"You are the soul that fits into mine."
Willa
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The hallways are a mess of noise and movement, a current of students pushing and shoving, lockers slamming, voices overlapping in chaotic waves. The scent of cheap cologne, burnt coffee, and that distinct school-floor wax clings to the air, mingling with the faint chill of late morning.

Roman and I move through it like we've done a thousand times before—him with the ease of someone who could bulldoze his way through a crowd without a second thought, me with the quick, darting steps of someone who's learned how to slip through unnoticed when she wants to.

We fall into our usual rhythm, dodging underclassmen who don't understand how to walk in a straight line, stepping around clusters of kids arguing over who's dating who, avoiding whatever disaster is currently unfolding near the sophomore lockers.

"Where's Alex?" I ask, scanning the sea of students for her familiar black hair that I haven't seen all day.

Roman lets out a huff, shaking his head. "She got stuck dealing with Mr. McCann. Apparently, he put her in the wrong elective, and now she's arguing her way into the one she actually signed up for."

I smirk. "And he has no idea what he's in for."

"Oh, none." Roman grins. "Poor bastard."

I laugh, already picturing the absolute hell Alex is putting the man through, but the sound barely has time to escape before someone steps directly into my path.

My steps falter, and Roman lets out a low breath, irritation barely suppressed.

I don't need to look up to know who it is.

Emma Holloway.

She stands in front of me like she's been waiting for this moment, arms crossed over her chest, her hazel eyes flicking over me with thinly veiled contempt.

Emma is the kind of girl built on layers of fakeness, each one carefully curated to present the perfect version of herself. The full face of makeup at the crack of dawn, blended and contoured with precision.

The brand-new designer pieces she cycles through weekly, worn not for personal style but to serve as status symbols. The effortless waves in her hair that take hours to achieve, all so she can pretend they didn't.

She feeds off attention, thrives on shallow validation, and clings to relationships like life rafts—not out of love, but because having a boyfriend she can flaunt makes her feel like she matters. And when she doesn't have one? She makes sure everyone around her suffers for it.

And once—just once—she had Dom.

It was freshman year. He was high as a kite, making reckless decisions, and she was there, waiting.

I had heard about it after the fact, whispers in the halls, smirks from people who loved a good scandal. And even though I hadn't wanted to believe it, I knew it was true. Because Dominic was reckless then. Because he was hurting, and drugs made him forget.

And because Emma?

She's the kind of girl who sees a boy drowning and pulls him under further just to see if he'll let her.

And he had.

I had been heartbroken. Not because I thought he had feelings for her—I knew he didn't. But because she had gotten a piece of him, even if it meant nothing. And I had spent my entire life waiting for a piece of him that did.

Emma tilts her chin up, lips curving into something that isn't quite a smirk but isn't far off.

"Are you serious, Willa?"

I blink, schooling my expression into indifference. "I'm serious about a lot of things. You'll have to be more specific."

Her jaw tightens. "Don't play dumb."

Roman shifts beside me, exhaling sharply, but doesn't interfere. He knows better.

Emma takes a step closer, lowering her voice. "One second, he's ignoring you. The next, he's parading you around like your his girlfriend"

That word.

Parading.

Like I'm some performance piece.

Like I haven't always been there.

Like she hasn't spent years pretending I don't exist when it comes to him.

I tilt my head, giving her a slow, easy smile. "You seem awfully invested in this."

She glares. "I just think it's funny."

I arch a brow. "You don't look like you're laughing, and for the record I'm not his girlfriend."

Before she can respond, I feel it.

The shift in the air.

The warmth at my back.

The presence that's so distinctly him that I know before I even turn.

Dominic steps up behind me, close enough that I can feel the brush of his chest against my back. He doesn't touch me, doesn't say a word. But he doesn't have to.

Because he's there.

And Emma notices.

Her lips part slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her expression. I can see the way her eyes shift, scanning him, waiting for some kind of denial. Some kind of confirmation that whatever she's thinking is wrong.

But Dom says nothing.

Does nothing.

He just exists behind me, and it's enough to make her falter.

She swallows, then forces out, "He's not—"

Not mine?

I don't let her finish.

I smile.

Slow. Sweet. Deadly.

"That's where you're wrong."

And then I do something that would've put me two weeks ago into a coma, something that feels oddly natural and familiar.

I reach back, slipping my fingers through the belt loops of Dom's jeans, tugging him forward.

He follows easily, my back now flush with his chest.

Emma's face hardens, but I see it—the flicker of something bitter.

"You don't own him," she snaps.

I hum, tilting my head. "Do I not, though?"

Dom chuckles behind me, low and quiet, and I feel it more than I hear it—the vibration against my spine, the breath against my shoulder.

Roman lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Damn, Myers."

I flash him a grin.

Dom's hand settles lightly against my hip, the weight of it grounding.

"Do I own you, Dom?" I ask, turning my head slightly up to look at him.

His eyes narrow as he reluctantly speaks. "You, butterfly. Always you."

I beam up at him, joy radiating from my body as he winks down at me.

Emma sees it.

And she knows.

She doesn't say anything else. Just exhales sharply, turns on her heel, and walks away.

The hallway starts moving again, the moment shifting, people whispering, throwing glances in our direction.

I don't care.

I glance up at Dom, still gripping his belt loop. "Come on, West. Walk me to class."

His lips twitch, eyes dark and unreadable.

But he lets me pull him forward.

The cafeteria is its usual chaos—loud, full of scattered voices, clinking trays, and the scent of overcooked chicken wafting through the air. I'm sitting across from Alex, the usual bubble of noise surrounding us, but the only thing on my mind is the spectacle from this morning.

I'm mindlessly picking at my food, my eyes darting to the clock, wishing the day would speed up. But Alex's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Willa," she says, her tone low, almost hesitant. I glance up at her, catching the way she's watching me carefully, like she's about to say something important. "About this morning... with Dom..."

My stomach twists. I know where this is going.

I shrug, trying to brush it off. "What about it?"

She doesn't buy it, her brow furrowing as she leans in slightly, her expression soft but serious. "You know, I get it. He's... well, he's Dom. But you're not fooling anyone with that whole 'we're just friends' act."

"Don't give me that, Alex," I say, leaning in closer, lowering my voice to match the serious look she's wearing. "I know you like Dom. But you know this is more complicated than it seems. And I won't let him hurt me again."

She hesitates, clearly weighing her words. "It's not about liking him, Willa. I don't think you get it. I just don't want you to end up hurt again."

I stare at her for a moment, feeling a pang of gratitude for her concern. I know she cares about me. Alex is protective, too, just in a different way. But this, my relationship with Dom—whatever the hell it is—is mine to navigate.

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Alex," I say softly. "I know what I'm doing."

But just as I'm about to say more, the conversation is interrupted by the familiar voices of Daisy and Finn. They wave at me from across the cafeteria, then stroll over, throwing playful glances in my direction.

"Hey, Willa," Daisy says with that knowing grin of hers. "So, are you and Dom dating now? We've been seeing a lot of you two together lately."

I blink, caught off guard by the question. "What? No." I let out a soft laugh, trying to play it off. "We're just friends, nothing more."

Finn chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "Sure, sure."

I roll my eyes, but before I can respond, Dom and the guys—Alec and Roman—show up, their presence already shifting the energy in the air.

"Friends, huh?" Dom's voice cuts through the laughter, his eyes dark and a little intense, the edge in his tone not lost on anyone.

I don't even look at him, focusing instead on the tray in front of me. I keep my eyes on my food, trying to ignore the tug of heat rising in my chest at his words. I won't let him get to me. I won't.

Roman slides into the seat next to me, and Alec takes the spot on the other side. Dom stands behind me, his usual spot.

Alex doesn't let the tension go unnoticed, giving Dom a quick, sidelong glance before she turns to me with a raised eyebrow. "You sure about that, Willa?" she murmurs under her breath.

I shake my head, but the smile on my lips is tight. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Just then, Dom speaks up again, the dark humor in his voice carrying that usual possessiveness I've grown to expect. "Friends?" he says again, but this time there's a warning edge beneath it.

I glance up finally, locking eyes with him, and I know exactly what he's doing. He's being Dominic. Protective, possessive, and damn near territorial. I can feel the weight of his presence behind me like a shadow I can't shake, no matter how hard I try.

"You've been asking me that a lot today, Dom," I respond casually, leaning back in my seat. "What's your deal?"

Alec lets out a light laugh, but it's clear he's staying out of this. Roman, too, doesn't say anything, but I can tell he's amused.

"Nothing," Dom mutters, but the look he gives me, the way his jaw clenches slightly, is anything but indifferent. "I just like to keep track of my friends," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Is that what you're calling yourself now?" I retort, my tone teasing despite the tension between us.

Before the banter can go on longer, Roman chimes in, cutting through the air like a knife. "Alright, enough of this. We've got to go meet Coach Daniels for the footage review." He stands up, nudging Alec as he does. "You guys coming?"

Alec nods, getting up right away. Roman doesn't need to say much; Alec's always on the move when it comes to hockey.

I lean over to give both of them a dramatically quick kiss on the cheek, my lips brushing against Alec's cheek first, then Roman's. I make sure it's dramatic—slow, exaggerated, the perfect amount of affection. But just as I pull back, I shoot Dom a playful, coy smile before leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek, too. The moment is so deliberate, and the glint in my eye as I pull away makes it clear I'm not going to make this easy.

I stand up, gathering my stuff, but not before giving the three of them a knowing push out the door. "Have fun, guys," I say with a wink.

As they file out, I catch Alex watching me, her gaze lingering with an unspoken understanding. She's not angry or worried—she's just... knowing. She gives me a meaningful look, one that says everything without saying a word. The weight of it sticks with me as I watch the guys disappear down the hallway.

And I can't shake the feeling that Dom's still watching me, even though I'm the one walking away.

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UGHHHH I HATE THIS CHAPTER OMFGGGGGG. I actually have given up on trying to make this chapter better so I'm just posting it. 😒😒😒