I’m slumped in the back row of this godforsaken auditorium, hood up, existential crisis in full swing, when Principal Meyers starts her weekly sermon about “excellence” and “school spirit.”
Translation: ninety minutes of my life I’ll never get back.
Ezra’s beside me demolishing a bag of Sour Patch Kids like it’s his job. “Think she’ll break her record for saying ‘leadership’ forty-seven times in one speech?”
“Fifty bucks says she hits sixty.”
That’s when someone hijacks the mic.
Not a teacher. Not some honor roll kiss-ass with a prepared speech about community service.
Luca fucking Reyes.
“Oh shit,” Ezra whispers. “Your boyfriend’s gone rogue.”
“He’s not my—”
“Hi. Um. Sorry for interrupting.”
His voice cracks through the sound system like lightning. Every head in the auditorium snaps toward the stage. My stomach drops straight to hell.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I hiss.
“I know this assembly’s supposed to be about team spirit and grades or whatever,” Luca continues, gripping the podium like it’s a life raft. “But I need to say something. And I need to say it now.”
Principal Meyers looks like she’s having a stroke. Security’s moving toward the stage, but slowly, like they’re not sure if this is a breakdown or performance art.
“I lied,” Luca says, voice gaining strength. “I lied to a lot of you.”
“Is he confessing to murder?” Ezra stage-whispers.
“Worse. He’s confessing to feelings.”
“I said he was just a friend. That what happened between us didn’t mean anything. That I didn’t feel the way he said I did.”
Every pair of eyes in the room swivels like they’re watching tennis. Some freshman in the front row actually gasps.
“And that was a lie.”
My heart stops. Literally stops. I’m dead. This is my death.
“Because the truth is, he’s not just a friend.”
Someone behind me whispers, “Holy shit, is this about Noah Linwood?”
I sink lower in my seat. Maybe if I become one with the upholstery, I can avoid this public execution.
“He’s not something I can ignore when it’s convenient,” Luca continues, and Jesus Christ, his voice is shaking. “He’s not someone I can shut away just because it’s easier.”
“Dude,” Ezra breathes. “This is either the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen or the most public breakdown in school history.”
“Both. Definitely both.”
“He’s not just a secret I keep in the dark. He’s not a phase. He’s not a joke.”
Luca’s scanning the crowd now, and I swear to God if he finds my face in this sea of teenage voyeurism, I’m going to spontaneously combust.
“He’s everything.”
And there it is. The words that just nuked my entire existence.
“I’ve spent so long trying to be the version of me that everyone wanted,” he says. “Coach’s golden boy. My dad’s perfect son. The guy who keeps it together.”
The auditorium’s dead silent now. Even Principal Meyers has given up trying to regain control.
“But winning means nothing if you lose the one person who actually sees you.”
My throat feels like it’s closing. This isn’t happening. This is some fever dream brought on by too much caffeine and emotional trauma.
“I’m done pretending. I’m done lying to myself. I’m done letting fear speak louder than my heart.”
“Holy shit, he’s really doing this,” someone whispers.
“I’ve made mistakes. I’ve hurt the person I care about most. I didn’t show up when I should’ve. I didn’t say what I meant when it mattered.”
My hands are shaking. Actually shaking. Like I’m having some kind of neurological episode.
“But I’m saying it now.”
No. No no no. He’s not about to—
“I care about him. I want him. I love him.”
The gasps are audible now. Phones are out. This is going to be on every social media platform before lunch.
“I’m not ashamed of it. Not anymore.”
And then—because apparently the universe has a sick sense of humor—he says my name.
“Noah Linwood.”