When Tate got home, she laid in bed, wondering if she'd been too harsh on Damien. But the truth was—she needed to put herself first and her friendship first
The next day at school, she spotted Martha in the hallway talking to one of their classmates. When Martha noticed her, she walked over and greeted her cheerfully. "Good morning." Tate couldn't help but notice how upbeat she seemed. As they walked into class together, Tate teased, "You're in a good mood today. Did you win the lottery or something? Are we rich now?" Martha laughed as she dropped into her seat and started pulling books out of her bag. "I wish. Today's just a beautiful day, and I love it." "Okay," Tate muttered, cracking open her own book.
Then, the familiar smell of wood and fruit hit her. She looked up—and saw Damien walking past them. He greeted Martha with a calm, "Hey," She replied with a soft "Hey" back, and they both smiled at each other.
Tate blinked. Their interaction threw her off. "Are you guys… friends again?" she asked. "Yeah," Martha said, casually. "He called me yesterday. Apologized for being an asshole and explained everything."
Tate's heart picked up. "What did he explain?" she asked, trying to sound neutral.
"He said he likes someone else and felt bad for leading me on." Panic flared in Tate's chest. "Did he say who it is?" "No," Martha replied, shaking her head.
Tate studied her friend, confused by how calm she was. She expected Martha to be angry or at least annoyed. "You're not upset with him? For asking you out and then ghosting?" "I'm past that," Martha said with a shrug. "When we talked, I realized we're better off as friends anyway."
Tate was still baffled. How were they suddenly… okay again?
"Do you have any idea who he likes?" she asked.
"Not really," Martha said, then smirked. "But I'm going to find out who she is."
Tate's stomach twisted. She let out a nervous laugh. "Why?" "I just want to know," Martha said, nonchalant. "I asked him, but he refused to tell me." "Maybe it's for a good reason," Tate replied quickly.
Martha replied with a simple, "Hmm," and then classes for the day began. The hours passed quickly.
When it was time for lunch, Tate went to the cafeteria alone—Martha had gone with Leo to talk to Mr. Matthew about setting up an anonymous hotline. The mention of it reminded Tate to text Landon about where she could print posters for their project. He was hardly ever around lately, always busy with something or speaking to one teacher or another. He'd really immersed himself in the class governor role, and Tate was honestly grateful that he respected her decision to stay out of it. She didn't think she could handle that kind of stress. She already had enough going on.
As she sat eating her lunch, she was surprised when Damien suddenly slid into the seat across from her and placed a bottle of chocolate drink in front of her.
She looked at him, confused.
"I noticed you like chocolate milkshakes," he said. "So I got you a chocolate drink."
Tate raised an eyebrow. "That's a nice gesture. A bit surprising coming from you."
"Ouch," Damien said with a crooked smile. "I deserve that."
She considered the drink for a second, then took it. He wasn't wrong—chocolate drinks were her favorite. As if reading her mind, he opened it and passed it to her.
Tate took a sip, then continued eating. After a moment, she asked, "Martha told me you guys already talked. And that you apologized."
"Yeah," Damien said. "She accepted. See? I can actually be a decent person. I did what you wanted."
Tate frowned slightly. "What I wanted?"
"Yes," he said. "I was an asshole to both you and Martha, and I realized that if I want to make up for it… I'll do anything you want."
She looked at him directly. "What if I want you to stay away from me?"
Damien didn't miss a beat. "That's the only thing I can't do."
Before she could respond, Allen walked past and said hi to Tate. She smiled and waved back.
Damien's eyes followed Allen. "I don't like that guy ," he muttered as he stood up and picked up her tray without asking.
After lunch, she finally managed to get Landon's attention and asked him about printing the posters for their project. He made a call to someone he knew, explained everything, and told her all she had to do was send over the text for the poster.
Tate was relieved—and genuinely grateful.
The rest of the day passed quickly, and Tate barely saw Martha until the final bell rang.
She decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. The sky had looked clear enough when she left, but halfway through her walk, the rain came down—sudden and heavy, without warning.
Tate ran toward the nearest shelter she could find: a small shed by the side of the road. It didn't offer much protection, and she was already soaked.
As she stood there, shivering and unsure what to do next, a black car pulled up in front of the shed and honked. She looked around, confused—there was no one else nearby.
Then the back window rolled down, and she saw Damien inside, shouting over the rain, "Get in!"
She hesitated.
If she stayed out here, she'd end up even more drenched—and probably catch a cold. But getting into a strange black car with Damien in the back seat? That wasn't exactly high on her list either.
Still, she couldn't afford to get sick right now, not with everything going on. And the last thing she wanted was to worry her mom.
So, reluctantly, she ran through the rain and climbed into the car.
As soon as Tate got in, Damien asked, "Are you okay? Do you want a blanket or something?"
She didn't answer right away—too busy taking in the interior of the car. It was sleek, spotless, and smelled like expensive leather. Everything about it screamed rich. Now that she thought about it, she realized she didn't actually know much about Damien outside of school—only that he clearly came from money.
"Where do you live?" Damien asked, leaning forward. "So my driver can drop you off."
She gave the driver directions, still glancing around the car in quiet amazement.
Then she turned to Damien and asked, "How come you take the bus to school if you've got a fancy car like this?"
Damien shrugged. "I prefer the bus. I get to sit with people and be in the real world."
"Oh," Tate replied, not quite understanding what he meant—but she was grateful for the ride anyway.
When they got to her house, she opened the door. "Thanks for the ride."
As she stepped out, Damien called after her with a grin, "So… does this mean I've redeemed myself?"
Tate rolled her eyes and shut the door without answering. She walked toward the house, her wet shoes squishing against the pavement. Just before opening the door, she looked back.
The black car was already pulling away, its taillights glowing faintly in the rain before disappearing completely.
"Whose car did you just get out of?"
Tate jumped slightly and turned around. Her mom was standing by the doorway, arms folded, wearing a serious look on her face.