Chapter 4: Storms, Slaps, and Second Chances

The sugar melted on my tongue, tangy and sweet. I chewed slowly, savoring it like a secret.

I touched Hunter’s lips with my fingertip, rubbing gently so he wouldn’t bite himself again. “Relax,” I whispered, my voice soft.

My voice was gentle, coaxing. I traced his lower lip, careful not to hurt him, wanting him to know I was here.

Hunter trembled all over. He made a low, strangled sound, almost a whimper, deep in his throat.

He shivered, breath coming fast and shallow. I could see the need in his eyes, the way he tried so hard to keep himself together.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” His voice was hoarse, right at the edge of control.

His words were a warning, but I didn’t pull away. I just smiled, sweet and certain, like I knew exactly what I was doing—even if I didn’t.

I gave him a smile—soft, a little mischievous, a little brave. Then I leaned in and kissed him.

I pressed my lips to his, gentle at first, then deeper. His breath caught, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer.

The candy in my mouth was pressed to his. “For you... to help you feel better.”

I whispered it against his lips, the words melting together with the sugar. I hoped he understood.

With that, Hunter seemed to ignite. He grabbed my shoulder with one hand, tilting my chin up for a rough, hungry kiss.

His mouth was desperate, like he’d been waiting forever. I let him take what he needed, my hands tangling in his hair, holding him close.

My whole body was wrapped up in his arms. The sweetness spread—warmth and safety and something I’d never felt before.

I felt safe, held tight. The rest of the world faded away, just the two of us and the taste of orange candy.

[Wow, the supporting girl biting the candy and smiling is too much... If she looked at me like that, my legs would give out.]

[Who gets it? The size difference between them is adorable. The supporting girl is so tiny, the supporting male could wrap his arm around her waist~]

The comments were just a distant buzz, drowned out by the pounding of my heart. I barely noticed them anymore.

Suddenly my phone buzzed. It was a voice message from Benji: “Emmy, didn’t you say Hunter’s illness was gross, that you never wanted to touch him, so why did you take him to the nurse today?” The words hit me like a slap.

His voice was soft, almost pleading. I stared at the screen, dread pooling in my stomach, my fingers numb.

“Sadie’s threatening me again about my mom’s hospital bills. Can you give me your early admission spot? I just need to get out...”

The words hit me like a slap. My hands shook as I listened, the world tilting beneath me.

The mood shattered. Hunter slowly pushed me away, bit by bit, every inch between us feeling like a mile.

He moved gently, but his eyes were shuttered, all warmth gone. I reached for him, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze, wouldn’t let me in.

He smiled weakly, fist clenched tight, knuckles white. “Sorry... I disgusted you.” His voice was brittle, like he was barely holding it together.

His voice was barely above a whisper, but the pain in it was sharp, unmistakable. My heart twisted.

Before I could say anything, Hunter turned and left. I scrambled after him, only to find him yanking open a drawer, searching for medicine with frantic hands.

I chased him down the hall, panic clawing at my chest. He tore open the drawer, bottles tumbling out and clattering across the floor.

He used too much force, and the whole drawer splintered, a jagged edge slicing his arm. Blood welled up instantly, but his face stayed blank. Pills spilled everywhere, mixing on the tile.

Blood welled up, bright against his skin. He didn’t even flinch, just stared at the mess like nothing mattered anymore.

Hunter was panting, anxious. He grabbed a pair of scissors and dragged them across his arm. I felt my breath leave my body.

The sight made my stomach twist. I wanted to scream, to run to him, to stop him, but my feet wouldn’t move. I was frozen.

Blood poured out, but he just curled his lips, like hurting himself was the only thing that made sense. I stood there, stunned and helpless.

The metallic tang of blood filled the air. I felt helpless, rooted to the spot, every muscle locked.

The comment stream spun madly: [Supporting girl, you could have hurt him, but you didn’t have to hurt him so much.]

[From the supporting male’s perspective, I really want to cry. Since he was a kid, he never dared get close to anyone because of his condition—his own mom saw him as a freak.]

[The only girl he liked, after coaxing him, said he was gross...]

[If he doesn’t go dark, who would...]

The words echoed in my head, guilt and regret swirling together, heavy as lead.

I’d been so unfair. That was what I said before, when I was prejudiced against Hunter. I’d called him gross, and now I couldn’t take it back.

I wanted to scream that I’d changed, that I didn’t think he was gross anymore. My heart ached with all the things I couldn’t say.

I don’t feel that way anymore... My throat felt tight, my breath shaky. Why couldn’t I just say it out loud?

I wiped my eyes, the tears hot and angry. I wanted to make it right, but I didn’t know how. Not yet.

The next morning, when I woke up, Hunter was already gone from the house. The emptiness felt wrong, like something vital was missing.

His room was empty, the bed neatly made. The silence pressed in, heavy, like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to come back.

He didn’t show at school either. I spent the whole morning unable to focus, my mind chasing shadows, until third period when I heard the worst news.

The halls buzzed with rumors, whispers trailing me from class to class. My stomach twisted tighter with every step, dread curling in my chest.

The school’s only early college admission spot had been given to Benji. I ran to the guidance office, desperate for answers, heart in my throat.

I burst through the door, breathless, hands clenched so tight around my backpack straps my knuckles hurt.

But there was Sadie, lounging in the office, and the assistant principal bending over backwards to please her. Benji stood tall as ever, but his gaze toward Sadie was complicated—resentful, maybe, or just tired.

Sadie’s father’s voice boomed from the speakerphone, smug and self-satisfied. The assistant principal kept darting glances at the door, nervous as a rabbit. Benji looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

When she saw me, Sadie didn’t even bother to look my way. She just turned to the principal and said, “Good grades aren’t enough, money is. My dad donates so much every year, just one spot...” Her voice dripped with entitlement.

Her words oozed privilege. The principal nodded along, not even pretending to be impartial. It made me want to scream.

The principal was annoyed by my questions, even rolling his eyes and telling me I was being petty for caring so much.

He glared at me over his glasses, voice sharp as glass. “You need to learn your place, Emmy. Life isn’t fair.”

He said that aside from my grades, I was worse than Benji in every way. That Benji needed the spot more than I did. My fists clenched tighter.

The injustice burned. My hands balled into fists, nails digging into my palms until it hurt. I refused to let them see me cry.

My eyes stung, tears threatening, and only in the empty hallway did I let myself sob, the sound echoing off the walls.

I pressed my forehead to the cool metal of my locker, sobbing quietly. The world felt impossibly heavy, like I was carrying it all alone.

The stream was silent for several seconds. Then someone let loose: [I want to send a knife to this author. The supporting girl studies every day, gets up before dawn, stays up late with homework, always ranks first.]

[She suffered so much, and the spot is just handed to someone else... You think college admissions are a joke?]

[Is the supporting girl’s life not a life? Glorifying privilege, ignoring the struggles of those at the bottom, what kind of main characters and values are these?]

[Poor supporting girl, she’s so pitiful. When she cries, I feel like the whole world is wrong...]

Their anger felt like a weird comfort—a reminder that someone, somewhere, was rooting for me.

Who would have thought, the next morning when I woke up, the girl who sat in front of me in class turned around and called out, “Emmy, the early admission spot is yours again!”

I shot up in bed, heart racing. The sun was barely up, but hope flickered in my chest for the first time in days.

I was stunned, leaping out of bed. “What?” Was this real, or just another dream?

I scrambled for my phone, checking my email for confirmation. My hands shook with anticipation, hope and fear tangled together.

As soon as I got to class, everyone was buzzing. The girl in front said, “Last night the principal worked late, the office was trashed, and his phone was stolen. The recording between the principal and Sadie’s dad got leaked...”

The whispers flew from desk to desk. Someone pulled up a video on their phone—audio of the principal and Sadie’s dad, clear as day, echoing through the room.

“Today, people from the school board came, fired the principal, and after finding out the spot was rigged, gave it back to you.”

The news hit me like a tidal wave. Relief flooded through me, my knees almost giving out. I could finally breathe.

I patted my chest, finally able to breathe again. I joked with the girl in front, “I’m so lucky, that thief really came through for me.”

She laughed, bumping my arm. “Maybe you’ve got a guardian angel.” I grinned, but my mind spun—could it be?

The stream exploded: [The supporting girl probably doesn’t know, that thief is 6'3", has an eight-pack, is handsome and quiet, and his name is ‘Hunter Cross,’ right.]

I blinked, realization dawning slow and sweet. Was it really him?

Huh? I froze, suddenly wide awake.

My mind replayed the whole scene—Hunter missing, the trashed office. My stomach dropped. Was it really him?

[The supporting male saw the supporting girl crying in the hallway for so long last night, then beat up the principal and trashed the office... Now he’s getting chewed out by his dad at the old house.]

[Supporting male: Even though I care about her, from now on I’ll never smile at her again.]

A pang of guilt twisted in my chest. I owed him everything. I didn’t even know how to thank him, let alone make it right.

That night, I sat in the living room, waiting for Hunter. It was almost midnight and he still hadn’t come home. The emptiness gnawed at me.

The clock ticked loud in the empty house. I curled up on the couch, blanket pulled tight around my shoulders, phone clutched in my hand, waiting for any sign of him.

My fingers hovered over my phone, typing and deleting, then finally I hit send: “Why aren’t you back yet?”

I stared at the screen, willing him to answer. The little typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then came back again. My heart thudded in my chest.

On his end, the screen kept saying “typing.” After what felt like forever, he replied: “I’m busy, I won’t be back for a while.”

His words were clipped, distant. I bit my lip, heart sinking into my stomach.

Me: “Are you free now?”

I held my breath, waiting. The silence stretched on, endless.

Hunter: “...”

I could almost see him, frowning at his phone, not sure what to say. I felt that distance like a wall between us.

I bit my lip and typed: “I have something to talk to you about...”

The words felt heavy, but I hit send anyway. No turning back now.

Hunter: “My problem won’t bother you anymore, I agree to break up, I don’t need you that much.”

The message hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at the screen, tears blurring my vision, breath caught in my throat.

Me: “But I accidentally broke a mug... :( ”

I sent it before I could think, hoping it would make him worry, make him come back. Please, please care.

Hunter—“Did you get burned?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Don’t be scared. Stand still and don’t move. Don’t walk around. Wait for me. I’ll be right there.”

His concern came in a rush, all his walls dropping at once. My heart squeezed tight, hope sparking to life.

The comment stream filled with pink hearts: [Seriously, supporting male, don’t love her too much.]

[‘Not convenient’ ‘Break up is fine’ ‘I don’t need you that much’ ‘Be good, don’t move’ ‘Don’t be scared’ ‘Wait for me’—is ‘let’s break up’ just a comma here? Hahaha.]

I smiled through my tears, hope flickering back to life. Maybe things could still change.

But before Hunter arrived, I got an unexpected visitor. Benji knocked on the door, face bruised and swollen, a cut on his cheekbone. He looked like he’d been through a war.

His hair was plastered to his forehead, rain dripping from his chin. I hesitated, but he kept knocking, his voice muffled by the storm outside.

I didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to open up. But he knelt right there on the porch. “Emmy, I know you’re mad at me, but can you hear me out?”

He knelt on the porch, jeans soaked through, hands clasped tight in front of him. Thunder rumbled overhead, rain lashing the windows in sheets.

Outside, the night was black, thunder rolling in the distance. Rain poured down, soaking Benji’s white shirt in seconds, plastering it to his skin.

He looked like a lost puppy, eyes pleading. I hesitated, then cracked the door open, just enough to see his face.

He looked up at me as I opened the door, his smile twisted, a little bitter. “Emmy, Sadie forced me.”

His voice shook, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. I watched him, unsure what to say.

I stared at his face—his eyes, the way his mouth turned down at the corners. He was always like this, knowing exactly what kind of boy girls liked, but tonight it didn’t work on me.

He gave me that look—the one that worked on every girl in school. But this time, it just made me tired. I felt old, somehow.

He knew my family was a mess and I was hardworking, so he acted pitiful and diligent around me. He knew Sadie was proud and wanted a cold, aloof guy, so he acted like that for her. He was always changing, always performing.

I saw through it all, the way he shifted his mask depending on who was watching. The realization made me feel ancient, like I’d seen this a hundred times before.

Now that Sadie was in trouble and couldn’t help him, he came to win my sympathy. I grabbed my umbrella, stepped out, and slapped Benji hard across the face, the sound ringing through the rain.

The sound cracked through the night, sharp and satisfying. Rain splattered my skin, cold and clean, like a reset button.

“Can your drama be as small as your face and your wallet?” I snapped. “I never liked you. To me, you were just a classmate.”

The words felt good—honest, like breathing fresh air. I watched his face crumble, the mask slipping away.

Benji froze, his expression darkening. He suddenly stood, reaching for me, trying to hug me. “Did you forget? Did you forget what you said when you confessed to me?”

He reached for me, desperation etched in every line of his face. I took a step back, heart hammering.

I pulled away from his arms. But in my head, I was thinking: Me? Confess? When did that happen?

I searched my memory, but everything felt fuzzy, like someone had erased the details with a smudge of an eraser. I couldn’t remember wanting him—not really.

[Does anyone else feel like the supporting girl is getting less and less like the author’s plan? She was supposed to be a total bookworm, but she’s so lively and brave.]

[Could it be the NPC is becoming self-aware?]

The comment made me pause. Was I changing? Or just remembering who I really was? Maybe I was finally waking up.

Someone posted this in the stream, and everyone went quiet. I bit my lip, thinking, feeling the weight of the question.

I felt the silence, heavy and expectant, as if even the universe was waiting for my answer. Who was I, really?

But I couldn’t remember how much I liked Benji before, or why I confessed to him. It was like a voice kept telling me to like him, but it wasn’t my own.

The realization made me shiver. Had I ever really liked him, or was I just following the script, doing what I was supposed to?

Same thing with Hunter—I couldn’t understand why I used to dislike him so much. He really isn’t so bad... Was it ever my own feeling?

My heart twisted, guilt and hope tangled together, messy and real.

Hunter? The thought hit me. Right—where was he? Why wasn’t he here yet?

I turned, searching the shadows outside, my pulse racing in my throat.

Then I met a pair of cold eyes. Hunter was standing at the edge of the porch, his gaze dark and bottomless.

He looked like a ghost, rain streaming down his face, eyes shadowed and unreadable. The sight made my chest ache.

Rain soaked his face. His black T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, outlining every muscle. He looked like he belonged in a tragic movie.

He looked every bit the tragic hero, the kind you root for even when he’s breaking. I wanted to run to him, but my feet wouldn’t move.

He turned and left without a word. I ran after him, calling his name—“Hunter!”—but he ignored me, his back a wall I couldn’t climb.

My voice cracked in the rain, desperate and raw. He kept walking, shoulders hunched, not looking back.

[Author, could you be any more obvious? The supporting male just happened to see Benji hugging the supporting girl.]

[It’s over, now the supporting male will definitely be pushed toward the main girl.]

[Looks like the supporting male will get drunk at a bar and run into the main girl, who takes him home...]

The comments blurred as I stumbled after him, my heart lodged in my throat. Everything felt unreal.

The rain was coming down in sheets, and I was frantic, so I slipped and hit the ground hard. Pain shot through my leg, and embarrassment burned in my cheeks. I wanted to disappear.

My knees scraped the pavement, blood mixing with the rainwater. I bit back a sob, feeling stupid and small and so, so tired.

Crying, I choked out, “Hunter.”

My voice was barely more than a whisper, but somehow it carried in the storm. I shivered, rain soaking through my hair.

The figure ahead froze. I sobbed, “It hurts... I’m bleeding.”

My words trembled, raw and real. I hoped he’d care enough to turn back, to see me.

Hunter turned back almost instantly, crossing the distance in a few long strides. He picked up the umbrella, shielding me from the rain, then scooped me up in his arms like I weighed nothing.

His arms were strong and steady, the umbrella a shaky shield against the storm. I clung to him, shivering, feeling safer than I had all night.

I peeked at his face, then reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck. Hunter’s face was cold, jaw tight, like he wanted to take me home and stay mad at me forever, but couldn’t quite let go.

He carried me easily, but his jaw was set, eyes hard. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back, every muscle tight with emotion.

My camisole nightdress was soaked through. I shivered on purpose, teeth chattering, hoping he’d soften up just a little.

I let my teeth chatter, hoping he’d give in. My skin prickled with goosebumps, the night air sharp against my bare shoulders, making me feel small and fragile.

So he pulled me closer, holding me tighter. “Hunter, will you listen to my explanation?” I asked, voice small but determined.

His grip tightened, his breath warm against my ear. I looked up, searching his eyes for forgiveness, for any sign he’d let me in.

I hooked my arms around his neck, leaning closer. He turned his head, dodging my kiss, stubborn as ever.

He jerked away, jaw clenched, refusing to give in. But I wasn’t about to let him win this round.

So I leaned in and nipped at his Adam’s apple—just a little bite. Hunter grunted, startled.

His breath caught, eyes going wide. The sound he made was low, surprised, almost a growl. My heart skipped.

His eyes widened. I bit him again, playful but firm. He froze, not daring to move, like he was afraid to break the moment.

I held him close, refusing to let go, the rain washing away everything but the two of us. For once, it felt like the story was ours to write.