Noah's POV
I can't sit still.
The suspension means nothing to me right now—two weeks at home while Lena faces the aftermath alone at school.
Dad's ultimatum echoes in my head like a bad song on repeat, but every time I close my eyes I see her locker, that word scrawled across it in permanent marker, and I know doing nothing isn't an option anymore.
My laptop sits on my desk, the screen glowing in the dim light of my room. I've been staring at it for the past hour, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to find the right words.
There's no perfect way to say this, no carefully crafted statement that will make everyone suddenly understand or care, but I have to try. I have to do something.
The cursor blinks at me, waiting, and I start typing.
"The rumors about Lena Hart are lies. Yes, my brother and I helped her financially for college. Yes, we care about her. No, it's none of your business why or how. Stop making her life hell for having friends who wanted to help. If that makes us whatever you think it makes us, fine. But leave her alone."
I read it over three times, my heart pounding harder with each pass. It's not eloquent.
It's not going to win any awards for prose. But it's honest, and right now that feels like the only weapon I have.
My hand moves toward the touchpad, ready to post it to every social media platform I can think of, ready to take control of the narrative even if it means painting a target on my own back.
My finger is hovering over the upload button when my door slams open so hard it bounces off the wall.
Evan's hand comes down on mine, slapping it away from the laptop with enough force that I feel it in my wrist.
"What the hell are you doing?" His voice is sharp, dangerous, nothing like the easy charm he usually carries.
I jerk my hand back, anger flaring hot in my chest. "What does it look like I'm doing?" I snap, standing up to face him. "I'm trying to fix this."
"I knew you were going to do something stupid, just because you feel guilty I got suspended. This is not the solution. You think making yourself the story will solve this?"
Evan's face is flushed, his eyes wild with something between fury and panic.
"Besides, you didn't ask me before doing that! This affects me too, Noah. I was the one who got suspended, no you. You can't just—"
"I'm trying to protect her!" The words come out louder than I mean them to, echoing off the walls of my room. "Someone has to, and you heard Dad. We're not supposed to contact her, so this is the next best thing."
Evan laughs, but there's no humor in it. It's bitter and cutting and aimed directly at me.
"By making yourself look like some pathetic guy who pays girls to notice him? Now everyone thinks you're desperate, that we're desperate, that she—"
"I don't care what they think about me," I cut him off, my voice dropping to something low and intense. "Right now, I don't care what they think about me. I just want her to be free from all this." The truth of it sits heavy in my chest, solid and immovable.
"You always have to be the hero, don't you?" Evan's words are sharp, designed to wound, and they do. "You always have to fix everything, save everyone, be the guy who takes the hit. But you never think about the consequences. You never think about what happens after."
"Better than hiding behind charm and jokes!" I fire back, and I see the moment my words land, see him flinch like I've hit him. "At least I'm doing something instead of just smiling and hoping it goes away."
"At least I think before I act!" His voice is rising now, matching mine in volume and fury. "You want to throw yourself on a grenade? Fine. But that doesn't help Lena. It just makes everything worse. Now she's the girl who two guys are fighting over, the girl who has rich boys making dramatic public statements about her. How does that help?"
The logic of his words cuts through my anger, but I'm too worked up to admit it. "So what's your solution? Just let her suffer? Let them keep destroying her while we sit here because Dad said so?"
"Well I care!" Evan shouts, and there's real pain in his voice now. "This affects me too. Lena doesn't need all these publicity. She has heard enough and I think it's high time we let her go!" The last sentence comes out quieter, defeated, and it hits me hard.
I stare at him, my brain struggling to process what he just said. "What?" The word comes out strangled, disbelieving.
"You heard me," Evan says, and he won't meet my eyes. "Maybe the best thing we can do for her is back off. Give her space. Let her move on without us dragging her down."
"That's not—" I start, but I don't get to finish.
A knock on my door interrupts us, soft but insistent. We both turn to see Maria, one of the housekeepers, standing in the doorway looking uncomfortable about whatever she's about to say.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she begins, her accent thick, her hands twisting in her apron. "But there's someone here to see you both. A girl named Lena."
The name hits me like an electric shock. For a second I just stand there, frozen, unable to believe what I've heard.
Then I'm moving, pushing past Evan, past Maria, taking the stairs two at a time because Lena is here, in our house, and nothing else matters.
I can hear Evan behind me, his footsteps echoing mine as we race down the hallway.
My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat, and my mind is spinning with questions I don't have answers for.
Why is she here? What does she want to say? Is she okay?
I round the corner into the foyer and there she is. Standing just inside the front door, looking small and determined and terrified all at once.
Her eyes find mine immediately, and the expression on her face is so complicated, fear and hope and resolve all tangled together, that I have to stop myself from closing the distance between us and pulling her into my arms.
Evan appears beside me, breathing hard from the run down the stairs, and we stand there like that—the three of us forming some kind of triangle in the marble entryway, the air thick with everything unsaid.
"Lena," I manage to say, and her name comes out rough, uncertain. "What are you doing here?"
She takes a breath, squares her shoulders, and I realize whatever she's about to say, she's already decided.
There's no hesitation in her stance, no doubt in her eyes. She came here with a purpose, and watching her gather her courage is one of the most terrifying and beautiful things I've ever seen.