Betty
I couldn't breathe properly. Marcus's fingers had just brushed my hair back, and I was drowning in the intensity of his gaze. My heart hammered against my ribs as he stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
The detention room door burst open.
"Yo, Marcus! Coach is looking for—" Vel stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene. Marcus kneeling beside my desk, me with tear-stained cheeks and trembling hands.
A slow, cruel smile spread across Vel's face.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Marcus comforting the school freak. This is rich."
I felt my face burn with fresh humiliation. Of course someone had to witness this moment of weakness.
"Get out, Vel," Marcus said, his voice deadly quiet.
But Vel was enjoying himself too much to stop. "Seriously, dude? This is what you're doing instead of practice? Playing therapist to Land Whale?"
Something snapped in Marcus. He shot to his feet and before I could blink, his fist connected with Vel's jaw with a sickening crack.
Vel stumbled backward, touching his lip where blood was already starting to flow.
"What the hell, dude?" Vel spat, wiping the blood with the back of his hand.
"I said get out," Marcus growled.
"What about practice?"
"It's cancelled today."
Vel's eyes darted between Marcus and me, understanding dawning on his face. "Because of Land Whale?!" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Man, you've really lost it."
"GET OUT!" Marcus roared.
Vel raised his hands in mock surrender and backed toward the door. "Fine. But you're gonna regret this, Marcus. Coach isn't gonna be happy." He shot me one last disgusted look before disappearing down the hallway.
The silence that followed felt deafening. My breathing was coming in short, panicked gasps. The confrontation, the violence, Marcus defending me—it was too much. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't get enough air.
Marcus was back at my side instantly.
"Betty, hey. Look at me." His voice was gentle again, completely different from the rage I'd just witnessed. "You're hyperventilating."
I tried to speak but only managed a strangled sob. Everything felt like it was spinning.
"Close your eyes," Marcus said softly. "Count to ten with me, okay? We're gonna do it backwards."
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on his voice instead of the panic clawing at my chest.
"Ten," Marcus said, and I could feel him moving closer.
"Ten," I whispered, my voice shaky.
"Nine."
"Nine." My breathing started to slow slightly.
"Eight."
"Eight." I could smell his cologne now, warm and intoxicating.
"Seven."
"Seven." His voice was so close, so soothing.
"Six."
"Six." I felt safer somehow, like nothing could hurt me as long as Marcus was here.
"Five."
"Five." My heartbeat was starting to return to normal, but for entirely different reasons now.
"Four."
"Four." I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
"Three."
"Three." His breath was warm against my face.
"Two."
"Two." I was almost afraid to open my eyes, afraid of what I might see—or what I might feel.
"One."
My eyes fluttered open, and Marcus was right there. So close that I could see every detail of his face, the slight stubble along his jaw, the dark fringe of his eyelashes, the way his lips were slightly parted.
We stayed frozen like that, breathing the same air, our faces inches apart. I could feel the pull between us, magnetic and dangerous. Marcus's eyes dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes.
He was going to kiss me. I could see it in the way he looked at me, could feel it in the electric tension crackling between us.
But all I could think about was Stacey in my room, Marcus kissing her, choosing her over me. The humiliation in the classroom. The way everyone had laughed.
Could I trust him? Could I trust this moment?
Just as Marcus started to lean in, I panicked.
I bolted from my chair, knocking it over in my rush to get away. The metal legs screeched against the tile as it fell.
Marcus reached for me, but I was already backing toward the door.
“Betty, wait—”
“I can’t,” I gasped, shaking my head so hard my vision blurred. “I can’t do this.”
“Betty, please. Just listen to me—”
But I was gone. Running. Fleeing the detention room like something toxic was pouring through the air. Like being near him would break me in half.
He called my name behind me, but I didn’t stop.
I didn’t deserve to stop.
I ran until I hit the girls’ bathroom at the end of the hall. Slamming the door shut behind me, I collapsed against it, chest heaving. My heart was pounding, but not just from adrenaline.
It was pounding because I’d wanted it. Him. That closeness. That moment.
I had wanted him to kiss me.
Even knowing—knowing—that the second his lips touched mine, reality would snap back like a whip. That it would feel like a lie. A cruel joke. Something he could laugh about later.
Because girls like me don’t get kissed by guys like him.
Guys like Marcus don’t fall for the fat girl. Not in real life. Maybe in some pity subplot in a teen drama—but not here, not now, not me.
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, eyes still wide with shock, sweater pulled tight around my body like a shrinking spell that never worked. My stomach pressed against the fabric. My arms looked huge in the harsh fluorescent lighting.
This was what he almost kissed?
The taste of almost burned worse than never. Because for one awful, beautiful second, I believed it could happen.
And now I’d never un-feel that.