Tuesday morning I find Mia at our usual spot by the trophy case, my stomach churning like I'm about to throw up. The hallway spins slightly—I've barely managed to choke down toast and water since Saturday, my appetite completely gone.
"I think I failed the test," I admit, the words barely making it past my lips.
Mia's eyes widen but she recovers fast, squeezing my arm. "Come on, you studied all weekend. You'll at least pass. Maybe not your usual A, but you'll be fine."
I swallow bile. "Yeah. That's true."
Something in my voice gives me away—it always does with Mia. Her expression shifts from supportive to suspicious.
"Wait..." Her grip tightens. "You did study over the weekend, right? After you canceled on Friday?"
"Yeah, of course." The lie tastes like ash.
Her eyes narrow to slits. "Let me see your draft. Your practice problems."
"I don't have them with me—"
"Evie." Her voice goes flat. "You always have your work. Always. You bring practice problems to lunch. Show me."
I pull out my calculus notebook with shaking hands, knowing I have no choice. Mia flips it open to the weekend's pages and freezes.
The paper is tear-stained, covered not with equations but with 'Caleb Voss' written over and over in different scripts. Some angry and jagged. Some desperate and looping. One page just says 'I need him' surrounded by spirals and scribbles that look insane.
"Oh my God, Evie." Horror fills her voice. "You didn't study at all. You spent the entire weekend obsessing over him like some stalker."
Before I can defend myself—defend what? that I'm not crazy?—Mrs. Harrison enters with a stack of tests. She hands them back face down, her expression grim.
I turn mine over with trembling fingers: 42%. F.
The red letter pulses on the page like a wound. It's over. Yale, my future, everything my father planned since I was five.
"I need to fix this." I'm already standing, desperate. "I'll beg for a retake. Extra credit. I'll do anything—"
Mia grabs my wrist hard. "Evie, you need to end things with Caleb. Look what he's doing to you."
"It's not his fault—"
"You're defending him?" Her voice cracks with disbelief. "You just failed the most important test of the semester! You've never failed anything!"
"You don't understand—"
"Then help me understand! Because all I see is my best friend destroying herself for some guy who treats her like a toy."
I pull away, the movement violent. "You don't know him."
"I know enough." Tears fill her eyes. "I know he's turning you into someone I don't recognize."
That evening, I'm drafting my hundredth begging email to Mrs. Harrison when my father's voice explodes from downstairs.
"EVELYN HARPER. GET DOWN HERE. NOW."
My blood turns to ice. I find him in the kitchen, phone in hand, face purple with rage.
"Mrs. Harrison just called." His voice shakes with fury. "Forty-two percent, Evelyn. FORTY-TWO PERCENT."
The number hangs in the air like a death sentence.
"She also mentioned you've been missing study periods. Leaving class. Your behavior has been 'concerning.'"
He sets the phone down with deliberate calm that's worse than yelling. "It's that boy, isn't it? The one Madison's mother told me about at church. Caleb Voss. The delinquent."
My heart stops. Madison's mother. Of course.
"Dad, I—"
"You're grounded. Indefinitely. No phone, no leaving this house except for school." His eyes are arctic. "And you will end whatever this is with that boy immediately. Call him. Right now. In front of me."
"Dad, please—"
"NOW, Evelyn. Or I call Yale myself and withdraw your application."
With numb fingers, I dial Caleb's number. He answers on the second ring.
"Miss me already, virgin?"
"I can't see you anymore." The words come out robotic, my father watching like a prison guard. "We're done. Don't contact me again."
I hang up before he can respond, but right before my father takes my phone, I see one text flash on screen:
Parking lot. Midnight. I'll wait.
My father doesn't see it before powering off my phone.
"Good. Now give it to me." He holds out his hand.
I surrender my last connection to the outside world.
"Go to your room. Straight home after school tomorrow. We're going to fix this, get you back to who you really are."
In my room, I sit on my bed shaking. Can't breathe. Can't think. The walls close in, suffocating.
I failed the test. Lost Mia. Lost my phone. Lost everything that mattered.
All I have left is this ache between my legs that never goes away, this need for Caleb that's consumed everything else.
He said he'd wait. Midnight. The parking lot.
I stare at my window. Never climbed out before. Never even considered it. The trellis looks old, probably rotted in places. I could fall. Break my neck. End up in the hospital trying to explain why I was climbing out at midnight.
My father would kill me. Actually kill me. Or worse—send me to that Catholic boarding school in Montana his sister runs. The one where they take troubled girls and "fix" them with 5 AM prayers and no contact with the outside world for six months.
I walk to the window, then back to my bed. Then to the window again. This is insane. I'm not this person. I don't sneak out. I don't disobey my father. I don't risk everything for a boy who won't even have sex with me.
11:30. He's probably already there. Waiting. Or maybe he's not coming at all. Maybe it was a test to see how desperate I am.
But what if he is there? What if this is my only chance? My father won't keep me locked up forever, but by the time I'm free, Caleb might have moved on. Found another virgin to torment. Another good girl to corrupt.
The thought makes me physically sick.
11:40. I touch the window latch. My hands are shaking so hard I can barely grip it. Good girls don't sneak out. Good girls don't climb out windows to meet boys in parking lots.
But I'm not a good girl anymore. Haven't been since that day on the roof.
At 11:45, I change into dark clothes with trembling hands. This is insane. If my father catches me, military school will seem like paradise compared to what he'll do.
But staying in this room, trapped with nothing but my failures and this burning need—that's worse than any punishment.
I climb out my bedroom window for the first time in my life, nearly falling when my foot slips on the trellis. The ground feels surreal under my feet.
The school parking lot is empty except for his car in the far corner. He's leaning against it, smoking, checking his phone like he's been there for hours.
When he sees me, he drops the cigarette, grinding it under his boot.
"I knew you'd come." There's something different in his voice—relief? "After that call, with daddy watching... I knew you'd find a way."
I drop to my knees on the asphalt without warning, not caring about the rocks cutting into my skin.
"Please, Caleb. Please." Tears stream down my face. "I failed my test, my father knows about us, Mia hates me, I've lost everything. I need you to make me forget. Please fuck me, use me, anything. I'm begging you."
Sobs wrack my body. "I'll do anything you want. I need you so bad it physically hurts. Please."
He crouches in front of me, thumb wiping my tears with unexpected gentleness.
"Hey, look at me."
When I do, his expression isn't mocking. It's almost... concerned?
"You didn't lose everything. You're still here. Still fighting." He pulls me to my feet carefully, checking my knees for cuts. "How'd you even get here? Daddy took your phone, grounded you."
"I climbed out my window." The words come out between sobs. "Second story. Almost fell off the trellis."
His eyes widen slightly. "You climbed out a fucking window to see me? Do you know how insane that is? How brave?"
I sob against his chest and he holds me—actually holds me—his chin resting on my head.
"You're getting closer," he murmurs into my hair. "But you're still begging because you're upset, not because you truly need me."
He tilts my chin up, kisses me slow and deep until I can't breathe. His hands roam my body, bringing me right to the edge before stopping.
"I'm not going to fuck you when you're falling apart like this. That's not what you actually need."
"Then what do I need?" I'm desperate, lost.
"To go home. Climb back through that window. Show your father you're not broken." He cups my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. "And know that no matter what he does, you're still mine. Whether daddy likes it or not."
He kisses my forehead, the gesture so tender it breaks something inside me.
"Text me from Mia's phone tomorrow. We'll figure this out."
Standing there in the empty parking lot, I realize something's shifted. He's not just playing games anymore. Maybe he never was.