INICIAR SESIÓNEllaThere was something dangerous about being happy when you had spent most of your life waiting for happiness to turn around and humiliate you.I knew how ridiculous that sounded. Happy was supposed to be the goal. It was supposed to be the reward at the end of all the terrible days, the proof that things could change if you survived long enough. I should have been enjoying the fact that Beckett Carter walked beside me into school with his fingers threaded through mine, not wondering how long it would take before someone reminded me that girls like me weren’t supposed to have boys like him.But old habits didn’t disappear just because someone kissed you and told you that you mattered.Sometimes they only grew quieter.They waited until you relaxed.Then they whispered.Beckett’s thumb brushed across the back of my hand as we crossed the parking lot, and I glanced at him. He looked completely at ease, like he didn’t notice how many people were staring at us. Or maybe he noticed and s
BeckettI used to think changing happened all at once.Like flipping a switch.One day you’re one person.The next day you’re someone better.Turns out…that’s complete bullshit.Real change is quieter than that.It’s waking up every morning and choosing not to become the person you were the day before.And some days…that’s harder than I ever imagined.⸻Monday morning started the way most Mondays did.Too early.Too much coffee.Mason was arguing with my mom because she’d informed him dinosaurs had, in fact, gone extinct.“I still think they’re hiding.”“They’re not hiding.”“You don’t know that.”Laura sighed into her coffee.“I have raised a conspiracy theorist.”“I prefer visionary.”I shook my head as I grabbed a piece of toast.“You’ve been watching too many documentaries.”“They’re educational.”“They’re cartoons.”“They educate me.”I laughed despite myself.A year ago, I would’ve been halfway out the door already, barely paying attention to breakfast.Now…I found myself lin
BeckettIf someone had told me a year ago that I’d be nervous about walking across the street carrying two pizzas, I would’ve laughed in their face.Friday night football?No problem.Fourth-and-goal with the game on the line?Loved it.Meeting college scouts?Easy.Walking next door to have pizza with Ella Monroe and her mom?Apparently that was enough to make my palms sweat.Mason bounced beside me the entire walk across the street, proudly carrying a bag of garlic knots like he had personally prepared the meal.“Hurry up,” he complained. “Pizza gets cold.”“It’s been outside for ten seconds.”“Exactly.”Laura laughed behind us.“He acts like he’s never eaten before.”“I haven’t,” Mason said dramatically. “I’m wasting away.”I shook my head.“You had three snacks before we left.”“Those were appetizers.”The front door opened before we even knocked.Ella stood there wearing a soft blue sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She smiled the second she saw us, a
EllaIf someone had told me two months ago that Beckett Carter would willingly walk across the street just to sit beside me without saying a word, I would have laughed in their face.Not because I hated him.Because I would’ve assumed they were making fun of me.That was the thing about spending years as the joke. Eventually, your brain stopped looking for kindness and started looking for the punchline. Even when someone smiled at you, you found yourself wondering what everybody else was laughing about.I hated that about myself.I hated it even more because Beckett was trying so hard to prove me wrong.The porch swing rocked gently beneath us, creaking every few seconds as the evening breeze drifted through the neighborhood. Somewhere down the street a lawn mower hummed, and someone’s sprinkler clicked rhythmically across a front yard. It was one of those ordinary suburban evenings that felt like it would never end.Beckett didn’t rush to fill the silence.He didn’t flirt.He didn’t
BeckettCoach always said you could tell what kind of player someone was by the way they practiced after a bad game.Anybody could show up when they were winning. Anybody could smile after scoring three touchdowns or hearing their name chanted from the bleachers. Character wasn’t built in those moments.Character showed itself when nobody was clapping.Funny.Lately, it felt like every part of my life had become one long test of character.The locker room buzzed with the usual noise after school. Shoulder pads slammed against benches, guys argued over fantasy football, someone blasted music from a phone speaker that sounded more like static than actual songs.Normally, I would’ve been right in the middle of it.Now I found myself sitting at my locker, slowly taping my wrists while the conversation drifted around me.“…you going to Ryan’s after the game Friday?”“…Coach is gonna kill us if we’re late again…”“…heard scouts from Florida State are coming…”I heard all of it.None of it r
EllaMy mom has always been the kind of person who notices the little things.She’ll know if I’ve changed shampoo because my hair smells different.She’ll notice if I’ve skipped breakfast because I’ll be quieter than usual.When I was little, she used to claim she could tell what kind of day I’d had at school just by the way I tossed my backpack onto the kitchen floor.I always thought she was exaggerating.Now I’m pretty sure mothers are just terrifying.Because she’s been watching me all week.Not asking questions.Just…watching.I can feel it every time I walk into the kitchen.Every time I smile at a text I pretend isn’t important.Every time I catch myself humming while I wash dishes.She’s noticing.I know she is.Saturday morning starts like every other weekend.The smell of pancakes drifts through the house before I even make it downstairs.Mom is already in the kitchen, wearing one of her old college sweatshirts and humming softly to the radio while she flips another pancake
Ella I should’ve known better. That’s the thought that follows me out of the hallway and down the sidewalk behind the school. I should’ve known better than to expect anything from Beckett Cross. The frustrating part isn’t that he disappointed me. It’s that some small, stupid part of me expected
Beckett The next morning should feel normal. That’s what I tell myself as I walk through the front doors of school. Yesterday was one weird conversation. One argument. One moment. That’s it. People have arguments every day. It shouldn’t still be sitting in the back of my mind twenty-four hour
Ella The house is quiet when I walk in. It always is. The front door shuts behind me with a soft click, and the silence settles over everything before I even take another step. It’s the kind of silence that feels too big for one person. Heavy. Familiar. Waiting. “Mom?” I call anyway. Nothing.
Beckett She wasn’t supposed to talk back. That was the problem. That was the thought that had been stuck in my head all damn day, circling around and around no matter how many times I told myself to drop it. Not practice. Not class. Not Coach ripping into me twice because I missed a route I co







