Chapter 4: Rumors, Rivalry, and What We Hide

As I stared into space, a cold soda pressed against my cheek.

The chill jolted me back to reality. I turned, startled, and found Jake standing behind me, grinning.

A teasing voice came from behind me. "So protective, Chloe? Here's an orange soda as a reward." The cold fizz bit at my skin, making me shiver.

Jake stood behind me, holding the cold bottle against my face—so close.

His breath tickled my ear, and I shivered. He was always doing stuff like this—showing up when I least expected it.

I looked up at him, uncertain. "You heard all that?"

He leaned down, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "Yeah, I heard."

He used his thumb to gently swipe at my hairline, his touch surprisingly tender. My face burned.

Heard? Suddenly, my face burned, the heat spreading from my neck to my ears, making me sweat even more.

I ducked my head, trying to hide my embarrassment. Jake just smiled, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

Jake wiped my forehead again. His hands, calloused from basketball, felt rough but gentle. The ticklish feeling crept down my spine.

He lingered for a second, then pulled back, looking pleased with himself. I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Why are you so hot?" he said, about to fan me. I quickly stepped back. "I'm not hot! Not at all!"

I practically jumped away, but Jake just laughed, shaking his head.

Jake opened the soda and insisted I drink a few sips.

He held the straw up to my lips, refusing to budge until I took a sip. I rolled my eyes, but gave in. The cold fizz felt good.

As I sipped, I tried to sound casual. "Did you solve the last math sequence problem on the exam?"

I watched him over the rim of the bottle, trying to catch him off guard.

Jake fanned me, looking smug. "Yeah, it was easy."

He leaned back, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with himself.

"What was the range for a?"

Without thinking, he answered, "Two to four."

Then he realized something, watching me carefully.

I met his eyes, certain. "You held back."

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. I knew I was right.

Jake looked away, flustered. "I..."

He mumbled, but I wasn’t letting him off the hook.

I didn't let him dodge. "I messed up the range for a—lost twelve points. Our total scores were only three points apart. You held back. First place should've been yours."

I stared him down, daring him to deny it. Jake just shrugged, sheepish.

He tried to explain, "Don't be mad, I just..." He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He trailed off, looking everywhere but at me.

I brushed his hand away, amused. "Afraid I'd be upset if I didn't get first?"

He nodded sheepishly. I twisted the soda cap. "Jake, next time, give it your all. I'll still be first."

I flashed him a confident grin. Jake’s eyes lit up, and he laughed.

Seeing my serious face, Jake smiled.

He leaned in, his smile turning soft. For a second, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

I couldn't help asking, "What's so funny?"

His eyes crinkled, voice teasing. "You're the first person who's made me want to win at exams. Sorry, I won't hold back next time."

He nudged my shoulder, and I rolled my eyes, but inside, I was beaming.

I huffed, "I'm strong too!"

Jake paused, then laughed, ruffling my hair. "Yeah, I know."

He messed up my hair, and I batted his hand away, pretending to be annoyed. But I couldn’t stop smiling.

His smile was so obvious, I had to look away. "Let's go, or we'll waste our break."

I grabbed my backpack, heading for the door. Jake trailed after me, whistling under his breath.

Jake straightened, calling after me, "Chloe."

I turned. "What now?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why do you trust me? With my reputation?"

He let the question hang, the silence stretching. I hesitated before answering.

I thought for a moment, then answered softly, "Because you're like my brother."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Jake’s eyes widened, surprised.

He hadn't expected that. "That's a compliment, right?"

I nodded.

He grinned, looking a little relieved. I smiled back, feeling a strange sense of peace.

"Alright, let's go." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Say hi to your brother for me."

I didn't reply. I couldn't pass on that message—my brother had left this world when I was twelve.

I watched Jake walk away, my heart aching. I missed my brother every day, and Jake’s kindness brought it all rushing back.

He'd been labeled a bad kid because of his grades and his tendency to stand out. He was expelled for fighting, and no one cared about the reason. But later, he died saving someone from drowning—the brother of the kid he'd fought with. No one saw that coming. For a long time, I just sat with the weight of it.

The story was always told in hushed tones, as if people were ashamed to admit they’d misjudged him. I never let myself forget.

Still, people wouldn't admit their prejudice was wrong.

Even after the truth came out, they just shrugged and moved on. It made me angry, but there was nothing I could do.

Like my brother, Jake had a bad reputation but was gentle to his core.

Maybe that’s why I was drawn to him. I saw the good beneath the surface, even if no one else did.

Maybe because of all this, Jake and I grew closer. He barged into my life, loud and confident.

He’d show up at my desk with a crooked smile, dropping off a new pen or a snack. Sometimes he’d just sit nearby, not saying a word, but always there.

The rumors continued, and I worried about how they'd affect him. But Jake didn't seem to care, staying his cocky, fearless self.

He’d brush off the whispers, laughing them away. I admired his strength, even as I worried for him.

After my deskmate moved, Jake started coming to our class during study hall, sitting next to me. No one dared object.

He’d slide into the empty seat, nodding at the teacher like he belonged there. The whole class would go quiet, but Jake never seemed to notice.

He'd quietly read his own books beside me, rarely disturbing me. Only then did my classmates realize Jake could be gentle, too.

He’d nudge over a snack or point out a mistake in my notes, but mostly he just sat in companionable silence. It was nice, having someone by my side.

Whenever he was around, my thermos was always full. He'd sneak over and fill it when I wasn't looking. Persistent, wasn’t he?

I’d catch him sometimes, his back to me, carefully pouring hot coffee. He’d flash me a grin if I caught him, then dart away.

He was amazing—if I struggled with a problem, he'd figure it out at a glance, then explain it in the way I understood best.

He had a knack for making complicated things simple. I started to rely on him, more than I wanted to admit.

There was a thin sheet of paper between us, and we both knew it, but neither of us broke through.

Sometimes our hands would brush, or our eyes would meet, and the air would feel electric. But neither of us dared cross that line.

Jake stopped holding back in exams. Every test after that, he topped the rankings. And me? I never once beat him.

He’d flash me a triumphant grin after every test, and I’d pretend to be annoyed, but I was secretly proud of him.

After every test, I'd pore over his papers. To help me understand, he'd write out every step, even on scratch paper, though he usually hated showing his work.

He’d slide the paper over, muttering, “Don’t tell anyone I did this,” but I could tell he enjoyed helping me.

If I frowned, he'd bend down and tap the back of my head, coaxing me like a child: "Don't get discouraged, Chloe. You'll beat me next time."

He’d ruffle my hair, and I’d swat his hand away, but inside, I was grateful for the encouragement.

I'd brush his hand away and keep talking big.

I’d brag about beating him next time, and he’d just laugh, shaking his head.

Jake proved everyone wrong with his results. If you stay on top long enough, people get used to looking up to you. The doubts faded, replaced by admiration. But Jake never cared what anyone thought.

He’d shrug off the compliments, acting like it was no big deal. But I knew he worked hard, even if he pretended not to.

Someone asked him, "Jake, why did you always turn in blank papers before?"

He replied, "Too easy. Not worth writing."

The whole class burst out laughing, but Jake just smirked, unbothered by their reactions.

At the 100-day countdown pep rally, the principal called him up to share his exam tips.

Jake took the mic, expression calm: "Exam tip? ..."

He let the silence stretch, and everyone leaned in, waiting for something epic. I found myself holding my breath, too.

He smiled confidently, his voice ringing out: "Leave enough time to fill in the answer sheet. Don't panic."

The crowd erupted in laughter, but I saw the way Jake’s eyes sparkled. He loved keeping people guessing.

That was it. The crowd cracked up—so that's all the top student worries about.

Jake handed the mic back with a wink, and the principal just shook his head, half-exasperated, half-impressed.

So damn cool.

I scribbled his words in the margin of my notebook, just for luck.