Betty’s POV
I pressed myself against the cold surface of the car door, my breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps as I tried to process what had just happened. My body trembled—not just from the adrenaline coursing through me, but from the sheer weight of everything crashing down all at once.
Across from me, Brent sat rigid in the driver’s seat, his face a mask of regret and anguish. The rain outside blurred the world beyond the car, isolating us in this small, suffocating space.
“Betty,” he said, his voice breaking as he turned toward me. His eyes were wide, desperate. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t mean—”
“Marcus was asking me to be the subject of his girlfriend’s play,” I interrupted, my voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “What is wrong with you?”
He flinched as if I’d slapped him, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “I just—” He swallowed hard, his words catching in his throat. “I can’t lose you, Betty. I’ve already given up so much for you. I can’t give you up too.”
His confession landed like a stone in my chest, heavy and suffocating. His words should have softened something inside me, but instead, they made the walls around me feel even closer, even harder to break through.
I stared at him, the mix of desperation and fear in his voice cutting deeper than I expected. “You won’t lose me,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow even as I said them.
Brent reached for me, his movements slower now, his touch gentler as his fingers brushed against my hand. “Betty, please,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rain pounding against the roof of the car.
I closed my eyes, my mind spinning as I tried to ground myself. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against mine with an urgency that didn’t quite feel like love.
I tried to focus on him—on the boy who had been my steady, comforting presence during a whirlwind summer, the boy who had given up so much to be with me. I wanted to feel the connection we used to have, to let his touch remind me of why we’d fallen for each other in the first place.
But no matter how hard I tried, all I could see was Marcus.
Marcus, with his sharp eyes and complicated smiles. Marcus, whose presence still lingered in my thoughts like a ghost I couldn’t shake.
As Brent’s lips moved against mine, I felt my chest tighten, the weight of guilt and confusion pressing down harder than ever. I wanted to believe my whispered words—that Brent wouldn’t lose me. But in that moment, I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself.