Chapter 3: The Cold Truth

My parents went to get the car first. I was about to follow when someone grabbed my arm from behind.

Outside, the cicadas screamed and the porch light buzzed. The sticky August air pressed in, streetlights flickering as I stepped onto the cracked sidewalk. Just as I hit the curb, a hand clamped around my elbow, yanking me to a stop.

I spun around to see Derek’s annoyed face—messy hair, wild eyes, the same cocky tilt and diamond studs flashing under the streetlight. He reeked of cheap aftershave and energy drink, like always.

His grip was too tight, and his voice too casual. "What’s with the attitude, Nat? You really got a boyfriend, or is that just for show? How old is he? What’s he look like? Do I know him?"

He fired off questions like darts, every word sharp and biting. I caught a flicker of something else—maybe worry—but I knew better than to trust it. Derek loved to tear me down, and I wasn’t giving him anything tonight.

I yanked my arm free and raised my voice: "That’s none of your business!"

My voice cracked, but my glare was sharp. My heart hammered, anger and embarrassment warring inside me.

Derek looked surprised. His smile dropped, replaced by a frown. For a second, I thought I saw regret, but he shut it down fast.

Caleb popped his head around Derek’s shoulder, grinning with that sharp, playful edge. "What’s wrong, sis? Why the big reaction?" He pitched his voice high, pretending to be innocent—but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Don’t tell me you really have a guy on the side? Isn’t having us enough?"

His words stung. My cheeks burned, but I shot him a look sharp enough to slice bread. "You wish," I muttered, voice flat.

Caleb waggled his eyebrows, daring me to react. It was all a game to him, and I was done playing.

He always joked the three of them were my "fan club," like I was some heartbreaker. But I was the one always trying to fit in.

I remembered all the times I’d laughed too loudly at their dumb jokes, hoping to be noticed. But tonight, I realized I’d only been kidding myself.

After what happened last time, I finally saw it: I was just their entertainment, never really part of the group.

That realization hurt more than any prank. I clenched my fists, vowing never to let them see me break again.

Caleb kept smirking, waiting for me to snap. But I just stared him down, then turned and walked away, head high, fighting back tears.

Before I got far, Marcus’s voice cut through the night—cool and clipped. "When are you coming back to class?"

I paused, not turning around. "In a couple days."

I kept my voice steady, ignoring the way my heart raced. Dad’s footsteps sounded far off, the car engine humming down the block.

Caleb clicked his tongue, annoyed. "Figures, she only gives him the nice treatment. But—"

He huffed, shifting his weight, but I ignored him, hands jammed in my pockets, staring up at the porch light.

"You two have been broken up for ages, sis, and you still treat him differently?"

He couldn’t resist poking at old wounds. I bit my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Of all three, Marcus was the one who’d resisted the idea of marrying me most. His words had been the harshest—calling me hopeless, saying he’d never marry someone like me.

But I remembered the night he’d whispered he liked me, voice shaking behind the gym. And how quickly he’d turned cold after.

Sometimes life really does play out like a bad teen drama. The one who seemed to hate me most was the only one who ever told me he cared.