She Called Me Hers'

Monday came heavy.

The sky was gray and lazy, like it hadn't slept either. Everything felt slower like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to snap.

I wore red.

Not the soft kind. Blood red. Lipstick to match. My skirt barely touched mid-thigh and my boots made a louder entrance than I did. Every step across the pavement echoed.

The quad was full. I saw the whispers before I heard them.

"That's her…" "Didn't she fight Vanessa last week?" "She's wild." "She's hot."

I didn't care. I wanted him to look.

But Lucien wasn't in the crowd.

Not at his locker. Not under the tree where he sometimes sat. Not even in the library, which was weird because that place was practically his church.

I found him third period, walking out of Mr. Harris's office. the staff counselor. Alone. Hoodie up. Eyes low.

I didn't speak. I just stared.

He didn't look surprised. Didn't speed up. Didn't look guilty.

Just brushed past me like I was fog and he was trying to breathe.

But I caught it. The way his jaw clenched. The way his fingers curled into fists just after we passed.

He felt me. Even if he didn't say it.

Lunch felt longer than usual. I didn't sit with the girls. I stood near the back stairs, one leg up on the railing, cherry lollipop stuck between my lips.

I watched him. Across the yard, beneath the old shade tree. Alone.

Until she walked up.

Vanessa.

Hair in a braid. Glasses she definitely didn't need. A sketchbook in her hands. Trying a new angle today.

She sat near him. Too close. Smiling like she didn't need teeth to be sharp.

I didn't move. Didn't cause a scene. Didn't say a word.

But my blood boiled like it was waiting for permission.

I saw her lean in.

Saw him shake his head.

But not hard enough.

Not fast enough.

I didn't fight her. Not today.

I just memorized everything — so I'd know what to burn later.

Seventh period was gym. I skipped. Instead, I headed to the old bleachers behind the track. The metal groaned when I climbed it. Wind bit at my legs.

He was already there.

Lucien.

Hood down. Head tilted back. Hoodie unzipped over a plain black shirt. His legs were stretched, feet crossed at the ankles. He didn't flinch when I sat beside him.

He didn't even look.

"You skip gym too?" I asked.

No reply.

"I heard the ropes in there miss you."

Still nothing.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "You hate me now?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You confuse me."

I laughed. "That's your problem? I'm not a math test, Gray. I don't come with steps."

He looked at me finally. And I hated that his eyes still made my breath catch.

"I'm tired," he said.

"Of me?"

"Of fighting how I feel."

My heart jumped, but I didn't show it.

I bit my bottom lip. "Then stop fighting."

"You think it's that simple?"

I smirked. "Everything is simple when you want it bad enough."

He turned away. "You only want me because I don't chase you."

I froze.

"That's not true."

"It is."

I stood. "You think I do this with everyone?"

He didn't answer.

"I could have any guy I wanted."

He nodded. "Exactly."

I blinked. The wind stung more than usual.

"You're afraid," I said.

He exhaled, slow. "Of what I'll do to you. Or what you'll do to me."

We stared at each other, the silence thick as a storm cloud.

"I'll survive you," I said.

He tilted his head. "Will I survive you?"

I didn't have an answer.

I turned. Walked down the bleachers, boots pounding.

I didn't look back.

Not until I was far enough to let the ache sit safely behind my spine.

Lucien's POV

He didn't go home immediately.

He sat there, long after Aria left.

His fingers were stiff. His jaw tight. His throat dry.

She was right. And wrong.

She was dangerous. But not because she wanted him.

Because he wanted her back.

He finally stood. Pulled his hoodie tighter. Walked back to the house.

It was dark when he stepped inside.

His father's car was gone. The housekeeper's voice echoed from the kitchen. He didn't answer. Just climbed the stairs.

On his bed: a small box.

Black folder inside. Same one from before. Same contents. But this time, something extra.

A typed letter.

> Lucien, Your leave date has been pushed up. Report two days after graduation.

No delays. No excuses.

> Father

He crushed the letter in his hand.

He opened his phone. Aria's story was a selfie. She looked pissed. Beautiful.

He didn't reply. Didn't like it.

He just stared.

And whispered:

"I don't know how to leave you behind."

That night, Lucien walked out of the house at midnight. No hoodie. Just a t-shirt and the cold.

He walked to the park three blocks away and sat on the swings.

Empty.

The metal creaked beneath him.

And then he pulled out a notebook from his back pocket.

He never wrote in it. Not really.

But tonight, he did.

> She's too bright. Too loud. Too much.

And I'm always too silent.

But when she walks into a room, I can't look anywhere else.

I keep telling myself I can leave her.

But I think she already owns the part of me I haven't shown anyone.

Even me.

He tore the page out.

Folded it.

Tucked it in his wallet.

Then he stood up.

And walked back home with Aria's name burning in his chest like a secret he wasn't allowed to say.

Aria's POV

I couldn't sleep.

His words kept echoing in my head like a haunting I secretly wanted to hold onto.

"You only want me because I don't chase you."

He was wrong. Or maybe he was right, and I just didn't want to admit it. I didn't want someone to chase me. I wanted someone who stood still and let me come to them but only if they wanted me just as badly.

And Lucien...

Lucien was running, even when he stayed perfectly still.

I curled tighter in my bed, the blanket too warm, the silence too loud.

I didn't know what we were.

But I knew I wasn't finished.

Not with him.

Not even close.