The next day, the school hallway was crowded, laughter echoing off the walls. Jenn stood by her locker, trying to focus on her books, but her mind was miles away.
Every time she saw Jeff from a distance, her chest tightened. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him she wasn't angry — just hurt and confused. But she couldn't face him. Not yet.
"Jenn!"
She froze instantly at the familiar voice. Slowly, she turned to see Jeff walking toward her, a nervous smile on his face.
"Hey," he said softly. "Can we talk?"
Jenn swallowed. "I… I have class."
"Please," Jeff said, stepping closer. "Just a minute."
Her heart beat faster, but she nodded slightly. They walked to the quiet end of the hallway.
Jeff looked at her carefully. "Have I done something wrong?"
Jenn didn't answer.
He sighed. "You've been avoiding me since the hospital, Jenn. You don't pick up my calls, you walk away when you see me — did I offend you somehow?"
She looked down at her shoes, biting her lip. He doesn't even know I heard him, she thought bitterly.
Jeff tried again, his voice softer. "Jenn, please, if I said or did something to hurt you, tell me. I don't want to lose you like this."
Jenn finally met his eyes. There was so much sincerity in them that her chest ached. "I just need some space, Jeff," she said quietly. "Everything's been… too much lately."
Jeff nodded slowly, though confusion lingered on his face. "If it's because of what Lucy said, I swear—"
"It's not just Lucy," Jenn interrupted, her tone trembling slightly. "I just… I need to think, Jeff."
He stared at her for a long moment, searching her expression for answers, but she gave none.
"Okay," he said finally, forcing a faint smile. "Take all the time you need. I'll wait."
Jenn's lips parted, as if she wanted to say something — maybe to tell him the truth, that she heard everything that night — but she couldn't. Not yet.
As Jeff turned to leave, she whispered under her breath, "I just wish you were honest from the start."
⸻
Jeff sat alone on the bench after Jenn left, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on nothing. His mind was a maze of guilt and confusion.
Why is she acting like this? he wondered. Did I say something wrong? Did she hear something I didn't mean for her to?
The air shifted. Heavy footsteps approached.
He looked up—and froze.
Alden stood there, eyes cold, his presence sharp enough to slice through the silence.
"Jeff," he said flatly.
Jeff swallowed. "Alden."
Alden didn't respond. He just took a slow step forward, his jaw tight, his voice dangerously calm.
"What exactly are you doing with Jenn?"
Jeff blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You heard me," Alden snapped. "What's going on between you two?"
Jeff hesitated. "Nothing. We're just—"
"Don't," Alden cut him off, voice rising. "Don't even think about lying to me. I've seen the way she looks at you… and the way you look at her."
Jeff clenched his jaw. "Look, Alden, it's not what you think."
"Oh, really?" Alden's tone turned sharper. "Then tell me what it is, Jeff. Tell me why Jenn has been walking around with red eyes like she hasn't slept in days. Tell me why she flinches every time your name comes up."
Jeff went silent.
Alden took another step closer, his shadow falling over Jeff. "I know you. You've always had your little games—schemes that make sense only to you. But if you're using her in one of them…"
He leaned in, his voice dropping low and deadly.
"I swear, Jeff, I'll destroy every damn thing you've built."
Jeff stood up, meeting his glare. "I'm not using her, Alden."
"Then what are you doing?" Alden fired back.
Jeff's fists clenched. His voice cracked slightly. "I… I care about her."
Alden's eyes narrowed. "You care about her?" He let out a bitter laugh. "You think I'm blind? You're the reason she's avoiding everyone. Whatever you did, fix it. Because if I see her hurt one more time because of you…"
He grabbed Jeff by the collar. "I'll make you regret it."
Jeff stared into his eyes, trying not to lose his temper. "You don't understand."
Alden tightened his grip. "Then make me understand! What did you do to her?"
Jeff didn't answer. He couldn't.
Alden shoved him back. "Pathetic," he hissed. "You can't even defend yourself. Jenn deserves better than someone who hides behind silence."
Jeff's voice came out low. "I never meant to hurt her, Alden."
Alden's jaw clenched. "Then pray that she forgives you. Because I won't."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Jeff standing there—breathing hard, shaken, and utterly wrecked.
Jeff ran his hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, "God… what have I done?"
That evening, Jeff sat outside his house, watching the sky fade into dusk. Carlos joined him quietly.
"So?" Carlos asked. "Did you talk to her?"
Jeff nodded. "Yeah… but I think I made it worse. She said she needed space."
Carlos exhaled slowly. "Then give it to her. Don't chase her too hard. Let her come to you when she's ready."
Jeff tilted his head toward the sky. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"
Carlos shrugged. "Depends on what she thinks you did wrong."
Jeff chuckled weakly. "That's the problem… I don't even know what that is anymore."
Carlos patted his shoulder. "You'll figure it out. Just don't give up yet."
As Carlos walked back inside, Jeff sat there in silence, unaware that on the other side of town, Jenn sat by her window too — clutching Alden's jacket, lost in thought.
Two hearts, both in love, both hurting — but for entirely different reasons.
And neither of them knew that everything was just about to get more complicated.
——-
Jenn sat by her window, staring into the darkness. The house was quiet, but her mind wasn't. She thought about Jeff's voice at the hospital — those words that weren't meant for her ears. "I don't want to use her anymore … ." It replayed in her head like a song she couldn't turn off.
She sighed, resting her forehead against the cold glass. Why does everything hurt so much? she thought. Why did he have to say that? Why did Alden have to kiss me?
Her heart felt split in two — one half aching for Jeff, the boy who once made her feel safe, and the other drawn to Alden, the boy who made her heart race in ways she couldn't explain.
Then — a knock.