The chase was a blur of flashing lights, deafening sirens, and the sickening lurch of the bike as Caleb took turn after turn, trying to lose them. My heart pounded in my chest, fear clawing at my throat as I gripped tighter to him.
Finally, Caleb pulled into an abandoned lot, killing the lights and the engine. We sat in silence, only the sound of my ragged breathing filling was heard as the police cruisers sped past.
“That was close,” Caleb said, removing his helmet and breaking the quiet with a laugh. “God, that was insane. And you were hugging me tight, huh?” The exhilaration on his face was almost infectious, but it only made my anger flare.
“Insane?” I echoed, my voice shaking. “You could’ve gotten us killed!”
He turned to me, his grin fading slightly. “Relax, Emma. We’re fine. No one got hurt.”
I stared at him, words failing me as my emotions tangled into a knot of fear, frustration, and something else I didn’t want to name. Caleb’s world was chaotic and unpredictable, and it terrified me. But it also thrilled me in a way that felt dangerous—not just because of what we did, but because of the way he made me feel. He made me feel like anything was possible, like the rules and expectations that had always governed my life didn’t matter anymore.
“This isn’t funny,” I snapped, my hands trembling as I passed him my helmet with a strict look. “We could’ve gotten arrested. Twice.”
Caleb shrugged. “Yeah, but we didn’t. And honestly?” He flashed a crooked grin. “It’s the most alive I’ve felt in weeks.”
***
Vanessa wasted no time sinking her claws into Logan. By the next week, her Instagram was flooded with pictures of her and Logan. He looked like he was playing a role. Why was he doing it? To hurt me?
The worst was Vanessa tagged Logan in every post, making sure her audience—me included—couldn’t miss it.
It was unbearable. Every time I opened my feed, her posts were there, a constant reminder of the widening chasm between Logan and me.
And yet, there were fleeting moments when I’d catch him looking at me across the room, his gaze lingering just a second too long before he quickly looked away. There was something in his eyes—regret, maybe, or confusion.
Caleb noticed, of course. He always noticed.
“You’re torturing yourself,” he said one afternoon during lunch, as I was staring at Vanessa's table where Logan was sitting.. “You need to let him go, Emma.”
“I’m trying,” I replied, my voice quiet. It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth.
For a moment, Logan’s eyes flicked toward my table. My breath caught as I held his gaze, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us.
“Really?” Caleb’s voice broke through the moment.
I forced myself to look down at my plate, pretending not to care.
“Stop hanging up on him.”
“I’m not hanging up on him,” I muttered, stabbing at my salad with unnecessary force.
“Sure you’re not,” Caleb said with a smirk. He let the silence linger for a moment before adding, “Forget about him, Emma. He’s not worth it.”
No matter how much I told myself to move on, part of me couldn’t help but wonder if Logan’s fleeting looks meant he hadn’t moved on either.