Chapter 2

“You dated Naomi Cross?” Riley narrowed her eyes with an indecipherable expression on her otherwise neutral face.

“Stop reading my texts!”

Riley leaned back against the seat, one hand still raised in a loose, defensive gesture.

“It came up the second the phone unlocked,” she said. “I didn’t go digging.”

Paige’s grip on the wheel tightened at her plain dismissal. The name on the screen—Naomi Cross—still glowed in her mind like it had been burned there.

She shouldn’t let it bother her so much that Riley had seen those texts but it definitely did and she could do nothing about it.

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Her voice came out tighter than she wanted. “Why do you even care who I dated?”

Riley didn’t answer right away. Outside, the storm continued but it was nothing in comparison to the storm of emotions the two were silently going through in their heads. The wipers squeaking was the only sound cutting through.

When Riley finally spoke, her tone was almost careful.

“She just… doesn’t seem like someone you’d go for.”

Paige let out a short, disbelieving breath. “And you know what I’d go for?”

“I’m saying what everyone at Westbridge still repeats,” Riley said, shifting carefully because of her arm. “That whole club thing from freshman year. They sorted us into activities—sports, debate, arts, student council, whatever—and somehow people decided it meant you were only supposed to like someone from the same circle. Athletes with athletes. Debate kids with debate kids. It’s completely stupid, but half the school still treats it like a rule.”

Paige had always thought the idea was ridiculous. She’d said so more than once. Yet after Naomi, she couldn’t help but think that maybe there was some truth to it. Besides Noami wasn’t the only one who made her feel this way…. Hers wasn’t the only breakup that had made her own beliefs shatter.

She hated that it still got to her.

“So what’s the official verdict on me, then?” she asked, eyes fixed on the red glow of the taillights ahead. “Who am I supposedly allowed to want?”

Riley’s answer came without heat, almost offhand.

“Someone from the athletic side. Or the ones who stay late for practice. People who actually show up.”

The words landed softer than an insult and somehow heavier. Paige felt a small, sharp twist under her ribs and looked away before it could show on her face.

For a second it felt like Riley might have been saying more than she meant to—or maybe Paige was only hearing what she wanted to hear. She told herself it was leftover embarrassment from her dating history being found. Nothing else. She was probably thinking too hard about a throwaway comment in a dark car.

‘Don’t think too much into it,’ She reminded herself, ‘It's Riley she probably meant nothing…’

She needed the conversation to move.

“Which shop are we taking the bike to?”

“Lance’s Repair. Downtown.” Riley’s voice flattened into something practical. “They’ll fix it without leaving a trail my mom can find. No receipts. No questions. They know me.”

Paige’s head turned before she could stop it. “Downtown? In this weather?”

The city was already choking on the storm. Freeways crawled. Side streets filled with people trying to get home before the worst of it hit. On a clear night the drive would have taken an hour. Tonight it could stretch into something much longer.

“There’s got to be somewhere closer,” Paige said. Frustration leaked into her hands even as she tried to keep them steady on the wheel. “This is going to take forever.”

“No.” Riley’s tone left no room. “The bike is wrecked because of you. If my mom sees the damage she’ll lose it, and then my dad will come looking for whoever did it. Lance is the only place that keeps both of us out of that mess.”

Paige stared at the blurred lights ahead, jaw set. Riley had the entire plan already mapped out, like she’d rehearsed this exact problem before.

“Fine,” she said at last. “But call them. Tell them we’re coming. Every extra minute in this traffic is time I don’t have.”

Riley looked at her then, something almost surprised flickering across her face—like the idea that Paige might have her own places to be had never occurred to her.

“You’re hurt. I know,” Paige continued, softer but still firm. “The hospital doesn’t close. My stuff can’t just wait until whenever. So please… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

The words came out sharper than she meant them to. The night had already forced them into the same small space. Their separate problems were colliding whether either of them wanted them to or not.