“So,” Ciara said, breaking the silence with a small laugh. “Hanna and I actually have something in common. We’re both die-hard Fleetwood Mac fans.”
Hanna smiled, a little surprised. “I didn’t know you liked them, too.”
“Oh, please. RumoursAs they continued, the initial awkwardness started to dissolve, their conversation turning to music, embarrassing school moments, and stories of past dates gone wrong. Hanna found herself laughing along with Ciara, the tension between them softening.
But whenever Finn’s name slipped into conversation, Hanna noticed the way Marco’s jaw would tighten, his eyes narrowing slightly. She felt his gaze on her, even as she tried to laugh it off, an unease stirring in her chest.
When the night finally wrapped up, they walked back to their cars, chatting and laughing—until they came to a sudden, stunned halt. Every single tire had been slashed, deep, jagged cuts leaving the cars stranded on the pavement.
“What the…?” Jacob muttered, crouching down to examine the damage.
“Someone really has it out for us,” Ciara said, shaking her head in disbelief.
Marco’s expression darkened, his gaze hard as he looked over at Hanna. “It’s obvious. It’s Finn. He’s the only one not here, and he’s the only one with a reason to mess with us.”
Hanna turned to him, her eyes widening. “Marco, you can’t seriously think Finn did this.”
“Oh, can’t I?” Marco shot back, his tone sharp. “He’s been looking for ways to make you notice him, to get your attention. And now that we’re together, he can’t stand it. It’s exactly the kind of thing he’d do.”
Hanna felt her own frustration boiling up. “That’s ridiculous. You’re just blaming him because you’re obsessed with making him the bad guy.”
Jacob and Ciara exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable, but Marco’s anger only intensified. “So, I’m the bad guy here?” he asked, his voice rising. “You’ve seen the way he looks at you, Hanna. You’ve seen how he tries to edge his way back into your life.”
Hanna’s cheeks flushed, a mix of anger and embarrassment surging through her. “This isn’t about Finn! This is about you being so paranoid that you’ll jump to any conclusion that paints him as the villain.”
“Paranoid?” Marco scoffed, taking a step toward her. “How many times has he tried to get between us, Hanna? He’s not some innocent guy you can trust. He’s out to mess with us, and he’s been doing it for a while now. You just refuse to see it.”
She crossed her arms, her own anger matching his now. “You’re so blinded by jealousy that you can’t see past your own insecurities. Finn wouldn’t do something like this, and you know it.”
Marco laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Oh, so you’re defending him now? Figures. I’m starting to wonder if you even want to be with me at all.”
Jacob stepped forward, raising his hands in an attempt to defuse the situation. “Hey, come on, let’s take it easy. No need to turn this into a huge fight.”
But Marco ignored him, his focus locked on Hanna. “Why do you keep defending him, Hanna? Are you still in love with him?”
The question hung in the air, cutting through the night like a blade. Hanna felt her chest tighten, the accusation striking deeper than she wanted to admit. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She was furious, hurt, and, beneath it all, unsure of how to answer.
Finally, she managed, “This isn’t about love, Marco. It’s about you making wild accusations and refusing to see reason.”
He scoffed, his eyes flashing with anger. “Maybe it’s not wild. Maybe you don’t want to admit it because it would prove that I’m right. That you never moved on from him.”
Ciara tugged at Jacob’s sleeve, trying to pull him back as the tension escalated, but Jacob stayed, his eyes darting between the two of them. “Guys, come on,” he said, his voice strained. “This isn’t helping.”
Marco ignored him, his voice now louder, filled with a frustration that was spilling over. “You’re letting him get to you, Hanna. Just admit it! If he wasn’t around, maybe we’d actually be happy.”
Hanna shook her head, stepping back from him. “This isn’t just about Finn! It’s about you not trusting me, Marco. And if you can’t trust me, then what are we even doing here?”
The silence that followed was thick and tense, the weight of her words settling between them. Marco’s face hardened, his fists clenched as if trying to contain his anger. But in his eyes, she could see the hurt—the raw, unfiltered hurt that her words had caused.
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart pounding as she left him standing there in the parking lot, surrounded by the eerie silence of the slashed tires and the shocked stares of Jacob and Ciara.