Chapter 2

I opened the Princeton email. I didn't hesitate. I clicked 'Decline'. 

Then, I opened the RISD email. I hit 'Accept'. 

I opened a blank browser tab and pulled up the staff directory for RISD. I found the email address for the head coach of the cross-country team. I quickly typed out a formal request for a walk-on tryout for the fall roster. 

Providence was three hundred miles away from here. Three hundred miles away from Nathan Hayes and his toxic orbit. 

The alarm screamed at 5:00 AM. I threw off the heavy blankets, pulled on a baggy grey hoodie, and laced up my dusty Asics. The air by the Hudson River was brisk, biting sharply at my cheeks as I stepped onto the pavement. 

I started to jog. Less than a mile in, my lungs felt like they were stuffed with burning cotton. I stopped by a green trash can, gripping the cold metal rim, and dry-heaved. My right knee—the one I injured back in middle school right before I gave up the sport—flared up with a sharp, stabbing ache. 

Just quit. Go back to bed. 

That was the old me talking. The girl who quit because a boy said sweat wasn't pretty. 

I spat on the concrete, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and forced myself to stand up straight. I walked the rest of the trail. 

The next day, I ran a little further. By day three, the blisters on my heels started bleeding. I wrapped them in thick athletic tape and ran anyway. Day four. Day five. I didn't stop. 

Day six. The sun was setting. I was stretching on a community park bench, completely drenched in sweat, my chest heaving violently as I tried to catch my breath. 

"You're actually doing this?"

The voice was lazy, dripping with that familiar arrogance. I didn't need to look up to know it was Nathan. He stood there in his athletic shorts, spinning a football casually between his large hands. His blonde hair was slightly damp from practice, and he was looking at me like I was a toddler trying to solve a calculus problem. 

"Running isn't going to fix that," he said. "With your weight base, you're just gonna blow your knees out before you lose two pounds. It’s basic physics, Scarlett. "

I kept my foot elevated on the bench, leaning hard into the hamstring stretch. I didn't say a word. 

He frowned. He wasn't used to being ignored. 

"Whatever," he sighed, tossing the football up and catching it with a soft thud. "Listen. I sent you the link to the Princeton freshman orientation group chat. You need to join it tonight. I don't want you wandering around campus totally lost next month expecting me to hold your hand the whole time."

He was so incredibly sure of himself. He was absolutely certain I was following him to Princeton. 

I grabbed my towel, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and looked him dead in the eyes. 

"Excuse me," I said flatly. 

I walked right past him, our shoulders barely brushing. I could feel his eyes burning into my back, confused and slightly annoyed. 

You just wait, Nathan. You'll see on opening day.

Day ten. I had just finished my morning miles. I was sitting on my bedroom floor, pressing an ice pack to my knee, when my phone started buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand. I picked it up and opened the senior class group chat. 

Someone had posted a video. I tapped play. 

It was me. Someone had filmed me running from a passing car. 

Heavy panting. Sweat-soaked clothes. The awkward jiggle of extra weight with every heavy step.

Whoever filmed it intentionally chose the ugliest angle possible.

The messages rolled in fast. 

[LMAO no way Scarlett is actually trying to lose weight!!]

[Whoa, earthquake warning on 5th street.]

[Nathan's words really got to her huh]

[Is she running or rolling?]

Then, Chloe Vanderbilt’s name popped up.[ Aww, guys, stop! ]

[Keep it up, Scarlett! The art girls at Princeton are super gorgeous and skinny. You definitely need to drop some weight so you don't feel self-abased when we get there! 😊]

My jaw tightened. I was waiting for one specific name. Nathan Hayes.

Three minutes later, he typed. 

My breath hitched. 

He typed:

[Can we stop spamming the chat? It's an eyesore.]

Someone teased: [Aww Nathan, feeling protective of your future wife???]

He replied fast:

[Are you blind? I literally told her yesterday it’s a waste of time.]

[And drop that 'wife' garbage. Don't drag me into this.]

[If she wants to make a public joke of herself, let her. It has absolutely nothing to do with me.]

It has absolutely nothing to do with me.

Seven years of growing up next door to each other. A verbal engagement our families joked about for years. Seven years of me silently loving him, shrinking myself, abandoning my own talents just to make him comfortable. 

In his eyes, I was nothing but a nuisance. A burden he had to shake off before college. 

I tapped the settings icon in the top right corner. I scrolled to the bottom. Leave Group. Confirm. 

I quickly opened my chat with Mia. 

[I'm heading to my Aunt Clara's farm in Vermont until college starts. I need off the grid. If anyone asks, you don't know where I am. Keep it locked.]

Ten minutes later, Mia’s reply finally came through. 

[I just got out of a three-hour studio session and checked my phone. I am literally shaking I'm so pissed. I was halfway through typing an essay to tear Nathan a new one, but I saw you already left!]

[I'm blocking them too. Fuck them. I’ve got your back, babe. Go to Vermont, get shredded, and make them choke on their own words. Call me when you get there.] 

Then, I opened Nathan's chat. I scrolled up through the history. It was pathetic. Me reminding him about his game schedules. Me offering to bring him an umbrella when it rained. Me asking if he wanted to come over for dinner at my home. 

His replies: ok. no. busy. Or just the read receipt. 

I tapped his profile picture. 

Delete Contact.

Block Caller.

Just like that, Nathan Hayes was erased from my phone. 

The next morning, the neighborhood was dead quiet. I dragged my heavy suitcase down the driveway. The plastic wheels crunched loudly against the gravel. 

"Scarlett! Leaving so early?"

I paused. Mrs. Hayes, Nathan’s mother, was walking her golden retriever on the sidewalk. 

"Make sure you come by before you leave for school." she said, walking up to the edge of my lawn. " Nathan told me he’s going to look out for you at Princeton. You two need to coordinate your moving days."

I forced a polite, tight smile. My voice was calm, but completely devoid of warmth. 

"Mrs. Hayes, we're adults now. We don't need to look out for each other anymore."

Her grip on the dog leash tightened. "Oh, honey, don't say that. You know the engagement—"

"It was just a joke between adults," I cut her off smoothly. "We were kids. It doesn't mean anything. Let's not mention it again, okay? Please tell Nathan I wish him the best."

"Have a good morning, Mrs. Hayes."

I turned and kept walking toward the waiting Uber at the curb. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the white blinds twitch in the second-floor bedroom window of the Hayes house. I knew it’s Nathan’s room. 

But I didn't look back. Not even once. I got in the car, slammed the door, and told the driver to hit the gas.