There are two types of people in life:
1. The ones who survive a love triangle and evolve into goddesses.
2. Me. The girl who sat between two boys during emotional nuclear fallout and now has to do a group project with them.
AGAIN.
Because apparently the universe said,
"Let's throw Lira back into the pit. But make it educational "
Setting: The Library. 3:37 PM.
I sat at the round table of regret™, my biology textbook open and unread.
Jayce had "volunteered" to be in our group to "keep the tension from exploding like a mitochondria." (Not what a mitochondria does, but honestly? He was trying.)
Damian was late.
Aeron was already here.
Across from me. Not saying anything.
We hadn't talked since the art room. Since the crying. Since the "I'll wait."
Now he sat, flipping through the project rubric like it owed him money.
I cleared my throat. "So... I was thinking we could divide the work evenly this time."
Aeron blinked at me.
Then—the smallest smile.
"Sure."
Progress. Baby steps. Oxygen re-entered my lungs.
Ten minutes later, Damian strolled in.
Late. Casual. Dangerous levels of charming. Like a Greek god who skipped class on purpose.
"Sorry," he said, sliding into the seat next to me. "Didn't miss the group trauma bonding, did I?"
Aeron: clenched jaw.
Me: clenched soul.
Jayce whispered, "Ooooo the triangle lives on." I kicked him under the table.
"Let's just get through this," I muttered.
Work Mode: Kind of Activated.
We managed like... 25 solid minutes of productivity.
Until Damian leaned over, brushing his arm against mine (on purpose) and whispered:
"So. You and Aeron. A thing now?"
I blinked. "We're... not a thing. We're barely speaking."
Aeron looked up. "I'm right here."
"Great," Damian said without looking at him. "Then you can answer too. Are you and Lira—"
"Can we focus?" I snapped.
They both shut up.
Jayce wrote "chaos" in big letters at the top of the worksheet.
Post-Project Debrief™: Outside the Library
The sun was low. The sky had that golden glow that made everything feel like it meant something.
Aeron walked out with me.
We didn't speak for a second.
Then he said, "Thanks. For not hating me."
"I never did."
"I hated me," he whispered.
I stopped walking.
He looked at me, raw and real. "I messed up. Not just at the party. I've been messing up since I met you."
"I know," I said. "And I kept hoping you'd stop."
"I'm trying to now."
I nodded. "Trying is a start."
Then he did something crazy.
He smiled.
Like... a real one. Soft. Crooked. Tired. Hopeful.
My heart actually tripped.
Later That Night. Surprise Text.
From Damian:
Still thinking about that sketchbook.
Still not done fighting.
My heart: please relax.
My brain: oh no.
My life: still a romantic horror film.
End of Chapter 11