Zoey's POV

When I locked the front door, Lawrence's car was already waiting outside.

I froze on the porch for a second. Last night I hadn't returned his call or texted him back. I'd assumed he'd be angry, or at least punish me with silence for a while. But here he was, and he looked like he'd been waiting a long time. The window was half-down, one hand resting on the steering wheel, faint exhaustion beneath his eyes—like he was genuinely afraid of missing me leaving.

In that instant, my ridiculous resolve from last night to break up with him wavered.

I jogged across the lawn. He leaned over and pulled the passenger door open before I even reached the car, smiling brilliantly, as if we hadn't just spent the entire night in a cold war.

"Morning, sunshine," he said.

I slid into the seat and tossed my bag into the back. "You're early."

He shrugged and leaned across to buckle my seatbelt for me. "Had to prove I'm not all talk."

His breath brushed against my face, and my traitorous heart softened. But I didn't let my guard down completely—last night's hurt was still lodged in my chest.

"Mm." I responded quietly, my voice carrying a hint of testing.

His hand settled on my thigh, that familiar warmth. "Baby, I know I've been too busy lately. I've missed picking you up a few times, but that really wasn't intentional."

He caught my hand and placed it over his beating heart. "This has only ever beat for you."

My face flushed. Even though Lawrence said sweet things often, this time his unprecedented seriousness made my thoughts of breaking up evaporate instantly. I leaned in and kissed his lips.

When the kiss ended, he pulled back into the driver's seat, a thread of nervousness in his voice: "By the way, there's news from my family. My brother might be coming home on leave."

I looked up. "Your brother in Special Forces?"

"Yeah, Gavin." When Lawrence said that name, his tone immediately shifted, carrying a rare mix of tension and pride. "He hasn't been back in a long time. A few years ago, he was on a mission at the border and lost teammates in action. His state hasn't been great since he got back, but this time he might be able to stay for some time. I want you to meet him."

I went still. "Me?"

"Of course you." He smiled, but not as easily as usual, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. "I know this sounds kind of sudden, but I've been wanting you two to meet. His approval matters to me more than my parents'."

My breath caught. Lawrence had always included me in his future. Not just saying "I love you" casually, not just softening me with kisses—he genuinely wanted me to meet his family, to meet the brother he respected most.

My heart suddenly ached with tenderness. Maybe I really had been too harsh on him. Lawrence didn't not care about me; he was just used to everyone depending on him. If I loved him, shouldn't I support him instead of demanding he revolve only around me?

"You know I can't live without you," I murmured against the corner of his lips. "Like a fish out of water."

He slapped the steering wheel dramatically and yelled, "Thank God, my reason for living is restored!"

I laughed, and the shadow that had been pressing on my chest finally lifted a little. He gripped my hand, as if that crack from last night had been gently pressed back together.

But the taut string in my chest hadn't completely loosened. I wanted to believe him, wanted to believe in our future, but a vague unease still prowled in the back of my mind.

As we headed toward the main building, halfway down the hallway, I heard a familiar mocking voice.

"Oh my God, the Ice Queen has arrived. Speak of the devil, and she appears." It was Cordelia Kingsley.

She'd always had it out for me, all because on the first day of high school, I'd walked through a cluster of people flattering her without complimenting her hair or coat. Cordelia's mother was on the school board, her father the founder of the Kingsley Medical Group. Staying on her good side wouldn't hurt me, especially for a middle-class girl like me.

But I couldn't do it. I could fall on the ice until my knees turned purple, could bow my head to Octavia's humiliation and say "I know, Ms. Cranston," but I couldn't smile at Cordelia.

Cordelia leaned against a row of lockers, lip gloss gleaming, looking smug, surrounded by her usual entourage—and one face I hadn't expected to see: Florence Ashbourne.

Her hair was cut to collarbone length, her eyes large, irises a pale color like the gray-green water light lingering on glass after rain. Usually she kept to herself, never joining any clique, but now she stood beside Cordelia, like they'd formed an anti-Zoey squad.

I glanced at Lawrence's hand, thinking of the love we'd just reaffirmed this morning, and decided to wait until we were alone to ask him what was going on.

Like before, I wasn't going to respond to Cordelia's provocation. But she stuck out her leg, blocking my path, not even caring that Lawrence was right beside me.

"Zoey. Wow, you look... exhausted."

I stopped, the corner of my mouth curving into a cold smile. "Thanks for your concern, Cordelia. You look radiant, like you've never remembered a single formula from class."

Someone laughed. Cordelia's face instantly darkened. She turned to Lawrence, her voice sharp and taunting: "Really, Lawrence? Why do you even care about this ice princess? Can she do figure skating routines on you?"

Lawrence's expression turned ice-cold, his voice frigid: "Enough, Cordelia."

"I'm just trying to remind you that any girl here would understand you better than your ice princess." Cordelia's smile was saccharine, but her eyes flashed with malice. "She looks like the type who'd write a three-page victim statement over the smallest thing."

The group laughed harder. Cordelia wasn't done. She waved dismissively at me: "This one actually thinks figure skating will get her into Celestial University. Maybe admissions officers really do love middle-class striving-girl stories."

My stomach clenched, but what truly chilled me wasn't Cordelia's vicious words.

Lawrence yanked his hand away from mine and strode up to Cordelia, pointing his finger at her: "Stop it right now, Cordelia, or you know what I'll do."

Cordelia's face went pale, fear flashing in her eyes. She reluctantly led her crew away.

Lawrence returned to my side, pulling me forward forcefully: "She's not worth your attention."

I jerked my arm free and stopped. What really stung was that Florence had just stood there, watching it all happen.

"You mean Cordelia," my voice was quiet but clearly questioning, "or Florence?"

"What?" Lawrence whipped his head around to look at me, brow furrowed. "Of course Cordelia. What does Florence have to do with this?"

I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the tremor in my voice: "Yesterday you were tutoring her, which is why you forgot to pick me up for training."

"She needed my help, so I helped her." Lawrence's tone began to grow impatient, his hand raking through his hair.

"So you offered to help her." I stared intently into his eyes.

He paused, just for a second, but it was enough for me to see clearly: "I offered." His tone turned defensive. "What does that matter?"

I looked down the hallway where Cordelia's laughter still echoed. "Cordelia's always looking for chances to humiliate me. Now Florence is suddenly hanging out with her, like they're in the same circle."

Lawrence sighed, obvious irritation in his voice: "I'm not saying they're good people, but Florence isn't like that. I know her—she's quiet, smart, nice. She just needed help, so I helped."

"You don't even know her." My voice started shaking, the fire in my chest burning hotter.

"I trust my judgment." Lawrence's tone hardened, displeasure flashing in his eyes.

"Really?" My voice rose several notches. "She's standing right there beside Cordelia, watching her humiliate me in front of a whole hallway of people!"

"She didn't say anything." Lawrence waved his hand dismissively, frustrated.

"She doesn't need to say anything!" I crossed my arms, feeling a bone-deep chill. "Standing there is enough."

Lawrence looked away, then back, clearly struggling to control his emotions: "Okay, maybe she just accidentally got mixed up with the wrong crowd." He paused, his tone taking on an accusatory edge. "I think you're being a little too judgmental about Florence."

I looked at him, eyes full of disappointment. We'd been together for months now, and he seemed like he'd never understood me at all. I couldn't tell if it was anger or disappointment—I just knew I was exhausted. Even the future Lawrence had promised me this morning felt blurry.

The bell rang. I exhaled in relief, my voice sounding tired: "Let's just stop this conversation. Next period is AP Statistics, and there's a unit test today that's worth fifteen percent of the semester grade. I can't afford a single B right now."

Lawrence's expression softened. He touched my arm gently, his voice turning tender: "Don't carry everything alone. I'm here, okay?"

I nodded, the movement stiff and mechanical.

He leaned down and kissed my temple, his tone returning to its usual warmth: "Let's have lunch together after your test."

"Okay," I said.

He immediately relaxed, a relieved smile crossing his face as he headed toward his classroom. I stood there watching his back disappear into the crowd, the uneasy feeling in my chest growing stronger.

Then I slowly walked toward my own classroom, the string inside me wound tighter than ever before.