Westbridge was rough, Elena had expected that. The peeling paint, the crooked hallways, the cafeteria that smelled like a mix of bleach and old fries. But what caught her off guard wasn't the building.
It was the people.
Especially Maeve.
"You're not listening," Maeve hissed, cornering her by the library lockers, eyes sharp and voice low. "Liam's not a project. He doesn't need saving. Especially not by some spoiled St. Claire's princess."
Elena didn't flinch. "I never said he did."
"Oh, but that's what this is, right?" Maeve leaned in, arms folded. "Rich girl slumming it with the school's favorite stray? Thinks she's special because he didn't push her away yet?"
Behind them, a few students hovered nearby, pretending to check their phones, but very much eavesdropping.
Elena's voice stayed even. "If you care so much, maybe talk to him instead of cornering me."
Maeve's lip curled. "You think I haven't?"
That made Elena pause.
Maeve saw it, and her smirk sharpened. "You're not the first girl to fall for Liam Reyes. But here's your warning, he breaks everything he touches. Including people."
Elena crossed her arms. "Maybe he just needed someone who wouldn't run away."
Maeve blinked. Just once. But it was enough.
Then she straightened, voice going flat. "Then good luck. Let's see how long you last."
Lunch that day was quiet. Elena sat beneath the old tree in the courtyard, the same one from yesterday. She opened a book, but didn't read. Maeve's words looped in her head like a bad song.
He breaks everything he touches.
But Elena knew better. He hadn't broken her, not even when life had. In the end, it was Liam who stayed. Liam who carried her through the darkest days of their future. Before he slipped away too young, too early.
She turned a page just to keep her hands busy.
"Is that seat taken?" a voice asked.
She looked up.
Liam.
"No," she said, surprised.
He sat beside her, opened a juice box with the aggression of someone starting a fight, and stayed silent.
Elena waited.
Finally, he muttered, "You shouldn't talk to Maeve."
"I didn't exactly ask for the conversation."
"She's... complicated."
"So are you."
He snorted lightly, just once. "You don't give up, do you?"
"Nope."
They sat in silence, the sounds of lunchtime chaos around them. Then, quietly, he asked, "Why do you care so much?"
She glanced at him.
And really looked. At the tightness in his jaw. The way he always seemed ready to defend or disappear. The way he never let his eyes stay soft for long.
"I just do," she said gently.
Liam didn't reply.
But he didn't move away either.
That evening, Elena walked home feeling something warm unfurl in her chest. Not victory. Not even hope. Just... progress. A breath of closeness. He'd sat beside her. He'd asked why.
It was more than nothing.
She passed the old corner store and ducked inside, buying a pack of sour candy and sunflower seeds, things he used to get her in the life they lost. When she got home, she placed them in her desk drawer like something sacred.
They weren't there yet.
But they were closer than yesterday.
The next morning, Westbridge turned cold.
Elena could feel it the moment she stepped into the hallway. Whispers shifted to laughter. Looks turned into smirks. Someone had drawn a heart on the whiteboard with her name and Liam's in it. Her history teacher stuttered over her name during roll call. Someone else whistled as she passed.
Liam didn't look at her.
He didn't talk to her.
But he didn't stop her, either.
At lunch, she avoided the courtyard and headed to the back of the gym. The benches were lopsided, the tree barely had leaves, but it was quiet. She pulled out her sketchpad and tried to breathe.
It was only the third day.
And it already felt like the school was trying to spit her out.
"Still here?"
Maeve's voice cut through the air again.
Elena looked up. "Do you always patrol the school for girls who talk to Liam?"
Maeve's eyes narrowed. "You didn't get the message yesterday?"
"You mean the one where you publicly warned me off in front of half the school?"
Maeve stepped closer. "You think you're brave?"
"I think you're scared."
That landed.
Maeve's mouth pressed into a line. "You don't know anything about him. You don't know what he's been through. What we've been through."
We.
So it was true.
Elena stood slowly. "So you are in love with him."
Maeve rolled her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business. But yeah. Maybe I was. Maybe I still am."
"And you think I'm a threat."
Maeve leaned in, eyes glittering with something fragile. "He'll never choose someone like you. So save yourself the trouble. Go back to your perfect life. Before this place eats you alive."
Then she turned and walked away.
Elena didn't chase her.
But her hands were shaking again.
Only this time—from anger.
That afternoon, Liam found her near the bike racks.
"You're really everywhere," he muttered.
"I was waiting."
He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
She looked at him. "Were you close to Maeve?"
His expression closed.
"She said you've been through a lot. That she's been through it with you."
Liam's jaw clenched. "She's just someone from the neighborhood."
"Did she help you?"
He looked away.
"If you care about her," Elena said quietly, "I'll back off. I'm not here to make your life harder. But if you really want me gone… say it. I want to hear it from you."
He stared at her.
Long enough that her heart started to ache.
Then he exhaled and said, "Just don't make your life harder than it needs to be."
Elena smiled faintly. "Too late."
He didn't smile back.
But when she turned to leave, she caught him watching her.
That night, Elena opened her sketchpad again.
And this time, she didn't draw Liam.
She drew Maeve.
Not to mock her.
But to understand her.
Maeve wasn't just a jealous girl. She was a piece of Liam's past. Maybe even someone who'd bled for him.
But Elena had bled for him too.
In a lifetime he didn't remember.
And she wasn't leaving.
Not again.