Chapter 2: Rumors, Rivals, and Regrets

Suddenly, laughter rang out—loud and way too close.

It was loud and bright, the kind of laugh that fills a room and makes everyone turn. My eyes snapped open, confused.

“Haha! Savannah fell asleep in class and got all scrambled, huh?”

Someone nudged my shoulder, and I blinked, trying to get my bearings. The voices around me sounded younger, lighter.

“Looks like the rumor on the school message board is true. She’s got it so bad for Eli Whitaker she’s losing her mind.”

A wave of giggles rolled through the room. My cheeks burned. I hadn’t felt this embarrassed since, well, high school.

“Yeah, she was bawling last week, and now she’s talking nonsense again.”

I rubbed my eyes, finally looking around. The classroom was packed, sunlight streaming through the windows. I caught a glimpse of my old desk, the one with my initials carved underneath.

Class? Group chat? What the hell?

My heart thudded as I took it all in—the faded chalkboard, the rows of desks, the smell of old linoleum and that cheap body spray everyone wore. It was all so familiar it hurt.

I opened my eyes, still groggy, and saw Eli Whitaker in a school uniform.

He looked so different—no wheelchair, no hardened lines on his face. Just a lanky teenager with too-long bangs and a shy smile. My stomach did a weird flip.

His cheeks turned pink.

He looked embarrassed, maybe even a little annoyed. I couldn’t blame him. I’d just called out his name in my sleep, in front of half the class.

It wasn’t until the teacher tossed me out of the classroom to stand in the hallway that I realized—

I’d... gone back in time. No way.

I stood in the hallway, heart pounding, trying to wrap my head around it. The world felt sharper, more vivid—the scuffed linoleum, the smell of cafeteria pizza wafting from downstairs. I almost pinched myself, half-expecting to wake up any second.

Back in high school. Ten years ago.

It was like someone had hit rewind on my life. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the door, watching the class inside. My hands shook, but I couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe this was my shot to fix everything I’d screwed up.

The sunset outside was blood-red. The classroom buzzed with the sound of students reading aloud.

The light caught dust motes in the air, painting everything gold. Someone in the back row was doodling on their desk, and the class clown was quietly tossing spitballs at the ceiling. It was all so achingly normal.

Through the glass, I looked at Eli’s healthy legs under the desk. His white sneakers—soles already peeling—were propped under the desk.

He tapped his foot nervously, chewing on the end of his pen. I noticed the hole in his sneaker, the way his jeans were a little too short. He looked like every other broke kid in school, and yet there was something different about him—a quiet intensity that made him stand out.

Classic Eli.

Who would've guessed? This quiet, broke kid would end up a business tycoon. Decisive. Commanding.

First thing on my to-do list: stick close to him.

I made a mental checklist—study with him, be kind, don’t let him push me away. Maybe I could change things, just a little.

Even if I couldn’t win him over, maybe I could at least earn some goodwill.

At the very least, I could be the friend he needed. Maybe that would be enough.

At lunch, I grabbed a seat right across from Eli.

The lunchroom was chaos—kids shouting, trays clattering, the smell of pizza and fries hanging heavy in the air. I slid into the seat across from him, heart racing.

He looked up, met my eyes. Those eyes. “What?”

His voice was wary, like he was expecting me to pull some prank. I tried to smile, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt.

I pulled up a post from the school message board on my phone and slid it across the table.

The phone screen glowed between us, and I watched his eyes flicker with recognition. I could almost hear the whispers from the surrounding tables—everyone pretending not to watch.

“School queen Alexis Brooks blocked Eli Whitaker to confess; Savannah Rivers suspected to be heartbroken, lying on the football field sobbing like she lost her dog.”

I read it aloud, trying to sound casual. The headline was pure high school drama, complete with emojis and way too many exclamation points. Seriously, who writes this stuff?

The comments section was blowing up.

People were ruthless, but I couldn’t help but laugh at some of the jokes. High school drama, I thought. Some things never change.

That morning, my memories of high school had come flooding back.

It was like flipping through an old yearbook—every awkward moment, every inside joke, every heartbreak. I remembered the smell of the gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the court, the way the teachers always seemed tired.

The first thing I remembered was this ridiculous post.

It had started as a joke. Then it snowballed.

Whoever wrote it had a wild imagination—why weren’t they writing novels instead?

With an imagination like that, maybe they should write a novel.

Back then, the pressure of prepping for the SATs was crushing. After school, I’d go behind the gym to feed stray cats.

It was my secret ritual. A few stolen moments of peace before heading home.

Over time, the cat warmed up to me and started rubbing against my jeans.

She was a scrappy little thing—missing part of one ear, fur matted from too many fights. But she was sweet, and she’d purr so loud it rattled my bones. Sometimes, I talked to her like she was my therapist.

Later, someone poisoned her. I buried her behind the bleachers and cried until my eyes hurt.

I still remembered the hole I dug behind the gym, the way the earth smelled after the rain. I stayed there long after the sun went down, hugging my knees and sobbing until my throat hurt.

I didn’t even notice someone nearby was making a big confession.

Turns out, while I was saying goodbye to my only friend, half the school was watching Alexis Brooks confess to Eli. The universe really had a sick sense of timing.

Madison was everything I wasn't. Confident. Beautiful. The kind of girl who floated through life without a care.

She was the kind of girl who made everything look easy—perfect hair, perfect smile, always surrounded by admirers. I tried not to hate her, but it was hard. Especially when she seemed to have Eli’s attention, too.

After marrying Eli, I heard from his assistant that he’d gotten into that car accident chasing after a train for love, when he found out Madison was moving overseas to get married.

It was the kind of story people whispered about in the break room, like it explained everything about him. I never knew if it was true, but it haunted me just the same.

Even in his coma, he kept calling out one name.

I’d sit by his hospital bed, listening to the steady beep of the monitors, and every so often, he’d mumble, “Lexi.” It broke something in me every time.

“Lexi.”

I tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, but I never could.

She played innocent, but underneath? Calculating as hell.

She was a master at playing innocent, but underneath it all, she loved the attention. She thrived on it, collecting admirers like trophies.

It was her favorite game. Flash that sweet smile, then watch hearts break.

I’d seen her at parties, watching the drama unfold with a little smile on her lips. She never got her hands dirty—she just set things in motion and let everyone else fall apart.

Once, she even told her friends at a sleepover:

“Watching these guys fall for me, one after another, is just… so satisfying.”

I remembered that night clearly—the way she giggled, the glint in her eyes. It was like she was the star of her own reality show, and everyone else was just there to make her look good.

...

After explaining the message board post, my mouth was dry, so I took a sip from the bottle of water on the table.

The cafeteria was loud, but for a second, everything went quiet. I watched Eli, waiting for a reaction.

He had that poker face down to an art. Eyes flat. Lips a thin line.

He just stared at the table, fingers drumming against the plastic tray. It was like he’d built a wall around himself, and I was on the outside looking in.

After a long pause, he finally said, “Oh.”

His tone was pure dismissal. But I could see the annoyance flicker in his eyes.

“You drank my water.”