15. Hayley

15

HAYLEY

T he door slams open, and Hannah steps in like she owns the place. She’s grinning, holding a bottle of vodka she swiped from God knows where. “You still alive in here, Hayley?” she says, her voice too bright, too loud.

I try to act casual, but the way the floor seems to tilt beneath me, the way my stomach flips, it’s all too much. “Unfortunately.”

She drops her stuff on the bed like she’s been invited, not like she barged in without asking. “Perfect. You need a drink. You look like hell.”

She holds up the bottle, shaking it for emphasis, and hands it to Max. He’s grinning too, clearly pleased to be here, in my space. Max takes a long swig, passes it back to her with a nod, and then he’s offering it to me, like it’s some kind of gift.

Normally, I’d turn it down. But not now. Not today. I’d give anything to forget the last fifteen minutes of my life, let the buzz wash everything away. I take the bottle from him without saying anything and take a quick gulp. It burns all the way down, a sharp sting that cuts through the haze of my thoughts. Maybe it’ll help .

A long pause hangs between the three of us, like the silence knows too much. I try not to let the panic show on my face. But then Hannah picks up the bottle again, her eyes flicking over to my phone, which is lying there on the bed, just waiting to betray me.

“Wanna take a pic for Insta?” she asks, her voice playful, mocking. “I bet you could do something cute with this bottle and that mess of clothes on your floor.” She doesn’t even glance at me when she says it. Her eyes are fixed on the clutter, the clothes strewn across the room, like none of it matters but the photo.

But it does. I see it all instantly. I feel the blood drain from my face. Every muscle in my body freezes. She picks up my phone. It’s too late now. I can’t stop her.

“Don’t—” I say, but my voice is weak, like a warning far too late. My throat is dry, burning. I can’t swallow. I want to grab the phone from her, but it’s already in her hands.

Hannah scrolls through the photos without even looking up from the screen, her thumb flicking up and down, passing by selfies, campus shots, random pictures. I can’t breathe. It’s like she’s flipping through the pages of my life, each one feeling like a mistake. I watch as she stops.

The phone buzzes. A new message.

Zoe.

Hannah reads the message out loud. “ Who is this?”

I feel my stomach drop to my feet. I want to die right there. I can’t breathe. Everything feels like it’s spinning out of control. It’s too late.

Hannah glances at me, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Who’s Zoe?”

I stare at her. The words won’t come. I want to lie. I want to pretend I don’t know who she is, but my mind is blank. My whole body is numb .

“Hold up,” Hannah says, and I know she’s found it. She’s found the thread with Zoe. She’s reading the message.

“That’s…that’s pretty messed up, Hayley,” Hannah says, her voice quieter now, like she’s trying to make sense of it. “This is some psycho shit.”

She hands the phone to Max.

I don’t speak. I can’t. The room feels like it’s closing in on me, the walls pushing in. I can’t get enough air. It’s like I’ve been caught under water, and I’m sinking.

“Who’s Zoe?” he asks.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to lie my way out of this.

I try to force a laugh. It comes out sharp, too fast. “I…I don’t know. Just some girl.”

I can see the screen clearly now, even though I’m not looking at it. If you’re smart, you’ll stay away. Otherwise, I will end you.

The message I wrote. The one that’s about to ruin everything.

I didn’t think it would ever come to this. I thought no one would ever see it, that I could pretend it didn’t matter. But it’s real now.

Hannah doesn’t look up at me. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. She just stares over Max’s shoulder and reads.

My heart slams against my ribs. I can feel the pulse in my throat, in my hands, like it’s going to explode. I don’t know how to get myself out of this.

“Wow, Hayley,” Max laughs. “I knew you were a bit strange, but this is certifiable.”

“It was just a joke.”

Hannah looks at me for a long time, her gaze cutting through me like a knife. It feels like she can see right through the lie. There’s no need for words—her silence says everything. I can feel it: her doubt, hanging in the air, thickening with each passing second.

She doesn’t buy it.

And in that moment, I know: it’s only a matter of time before everyone else knows too.