Chapter 4 The Art Of Self-Sabotage

I was still replaying Thursday night in my head when I walked into school Friday morning.

The way Chase had looked at me. The way his hand had felt in my hair. The quiet stay that had cracked something open in my chest I wasn't ready to examine.

"Earth to Zara."

I blinked. Priya was waving a hand in front of my face, eyebrows raised.

"Sorry. What?"

"I said," Priya repeated, grinning, "you have that look."

"What look?"

"The 'something happened and I'm not ready to talk about it' look." She leaned against my locker, arms crossed. "Spill."

I shoved my bag into my locker, avoiding her eyes. "Nothing happened."

"Liar."

"Priya—"

"Was it at the Hendricks house? Did Chase say something? Oh my god, did he apologize again?"

"He was sick," I said, slamming my locker shut. "That's it. I helped. It's fine."

Priya's eyes went wide. "He was sick? And you took care of him? Zara…"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't make it into something it's not." I started walking towards the class for first period class. Priya fell into step beside me, still grinning like she knew every secret I was trying to keep.

"I'm just saying, taking care of someone when they're vulnerable is very—"

"Priya, I swear to god"

"intimate. You kind of sexy"

I stopped walking. "It wasn't like that."

"Uh-huh." She was fully smirking now. "Sure. Whatever you say, bestie."

"I hate you."

"You love me. Now come on, we're gonna be late."

First period passed without incident. Second period, I kept my head down and tried not to think about the way Chase's fingers had felt in my hair.

I was halfway through the passing period, heading toward AP Calculus, when I heard my name.

"Zara."

I turned. Chase Hendricks stood five feet away, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, looking—better. Still a little pale, but upright. Functional.

And completely unreadable.

"Hey," I said carefully. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. I—" He glanced around. The hallway was crowded, people streaming past us, but I saw the exact moment someone noticed us talking. Then someone else. "Can we talk? Privately?"

My stomach dropped. "Uh. Sure?"

He nodded toward an empty classroom across the hall. I followed him, ignoring the curious stares, and he closed the door behind us.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then Chase exhaled, ran a hand through his hair, and said, "About yesterday."

"You don't have to—"

"I do." He wasn't looking at me. "What you did—taking care of me, getting medicine, staying—it was... nice. But I need you to know it wasn't anything special."

I blinked. "What?"

"I mean, you were doing your job, right? Watching Micah. I just happened to be there." He shrugged, still not meeting my eyes. "So. Yeah. Thank you. But don't read into it."

The words hit me like a slap.

"Don't... read into it," I repeated slowly.

"Yeah." He finally looked at me, expression carefully neutral. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. We're not friends. This is a professional thing. You babysit my brother, I pay you. That's it."

I stared at him. At the boy who'd held my wrist. Who'd asked me to stay. Who'd looked at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered.

And now he was standing here, telling me it meant nothing.

"You're unbelievable," I said.

"Zara—"

"No." I took a step forward, anger flooding my veins. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to be vulnerable with me one day and then act like I'm delusional for thinking it meant something the next."

"I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were." My voice was shaking now. "You asked me to stay, Chase. You did. Not because I was 'doing my job,' but because you didn't want to be alone. And now you're standing here trying to convince me—and yourself—that none of it mattered."

His jaw tightened. "Maybe it didn't."

"Liar."

The word hung between us.

Chase's expression cracked—just for a second—and I saw something desperate underneath. Something afraid.

Then he shuttered it. Locked it down. Put the mask back on.

"Believe whatever you want," he said. Cold. Final. "But don't mistake basic decency for something more. I was sick. You helped. That's all it was."

"Wow." I laughed, sharp and humorless. "You're really committed to this, aren't you? The whole 'I don't need anyone' act."

"It's not an act."

"Yes, it is. And it's exhausting to watch." I grabbed my bag, shouldering it with more force than necessary. "Thanks for clearing that up, though. I'll make sure to keep everything professional from now on."

I turned to leave.

"Zara, wait—"

"No." I yanked open the door, not looking back. "We're done here."

I walked out into the hallway, leaving him standing alone in that empty classroom.

My hands were shaking. My chest was tight. And all I could think was:

He's afraid. He's so afraid of letting anyone in that he'd rather burn the bridge than risk crossing it.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

By lunch, word had spread.

I don't know how—maybe someone saw us go into that classroom, maybe Chase told someone, maybe the universe just decided I hadn't suffered enough this week—but by the time I sat down at my usual table with Priya, I could feel the stares.

"Okay, what happened?" Priya demanded immediately. "You look like you want to murder someone."

"Chase happened."

I told her everything. The conversation. The dismissal. The way he'd looked at me like I was crazy for thinking any of it mattered.

By the time I finished, Priya looked ready to commit a felony.

"I'm gonna kill him," she said flatly. "I'm literally going to kill him."

"Get in line."

"No, I'm serious. What is wrong with him?"

"He's scared," I said, stabbing my salad. "He's scared and he's self-destructive and he doesn't know how to let people in without feeling like he's losing control."

Priya stared at me. "Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not defending him. I'm just—" I sighed. "I don't know. Trying to understand him, I guess."

"Zara. Bestie. this boy, he doesn't deserve your understanding."

"Maybe not. But that doesn't mean I can just turn it off."

Priya reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "You're too good. You know that?"

"I'm really not."

"Yeah. You really are."

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I avoided Chase in the hallways. Kept my head down in the classes we shared. Focused on anything except the hollow ache in my chest that I refused to name.

By the time six o'clock rolled around and I was standing on the Hendricks' front porch again, I'd almost convinced myself I could do this.

Professional. Keep it professional.

The door opened.

Chase stood there, looking exhausted. "Hey."

"Hi." I stepped inside, not meeting his eyes. "Where's Micah?"

"Kitchen. He's been asking for you all day."

I nodded and walked past him without another word.

Micah lit up when he saw me, already chattering about the Lego spaceship he was building, and I let his joy wash over me like a balm.

Behind me, I felt Chase watching.

But I didn't turn around.

And when he finally disappeared upstairs, I exhaled and tried to pretend my heart wasn't breaking.