Page 95 of Picture Perfect

I clench my fists, the weight of past betrayals making it hard to give him what he's asking for. He asks for trust like it's so easy. As if trust is something I have in abundance and can give away without any hesitation or concern.

He reaches out his hand, palm up, and looks at me with pleading eyes. "I know it's hard," he says, "but please, just give me a chance to earn your trust."

"Okay," I say finally, the word not quite a surrender, but an acknowledgment of the truth I see in him. I let it hang there between us, a fragile bridge over troubled water.

Then he closes the distance, and his lips are on mine, soft and insistent. The kiss isn't a question—it's punctuation. It sears through me, melting the ice around my battered heart, and for a moment, I allow myself to melt into him.

We break apart, breathless, and Chess brushes his thumb across my cheek with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.

"Let's go," I whisper, nodding towards the door, my hand finding his.

"Computer lab," he confirms as if the words are a promise. We leave the quiet sanctuary behind, hand in hand, stepping back into the stream of high school life with a new secret warmth shared between us.

The computer lab buzzes with the low hum of machines and hushed conversations, a digital heartbeat thumping in the background. I try to settle on the empty cushion next to Dre, but he's quicker. With a sly grin, he catches my wrist and pulls me down onto his lap, disregarding my squeal of protest.

"Forgive Chess yet?" Dre's voice is a whisper against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine despite the warmth of his breath. "I don't know what he did, but he seems happier than I've seen him in days."

He kisses me, tasting my lips. When he pulls back his eyes are lit up with mischief. "Oh, you did forgive him, didn't you. Imagine all the fun we could have. Together. All the possibilities."

His words linger like smoke, curling around the idea that's already taking root in my mind. It's tempting, wildly so, and there's a part of me—a reckless, hungry part—that wants to explore every dirty possibility he's hinting at.

"Maybe," I murmur back, the word feeling like a secret I'm not quite ready to share.

"Good girl." His lips press into a smile against my neck, and for a moment, I allow myself the luxury of leaning back into him, feeling his chest rise and fall with quiet laughter.

"Let her eat, Dre," Saint's voice cuts through the tension, though there's a smirk playing on his lips too. He's lounging near the door, dark curly hair falling into his eyes as he watches us with an unreadable expression. "Something came up, Princess. Dre and I've got some business after school. You're riding with Chess today."

Then he shocks the shit out of me. "Is that okay with you, Addy?" Saint's gaze locks onto mine, searching, demanding honesty.

I hesitate, aware of Dre's arms still around me and the weight of Chess's kiss still lingering on my lips. "Yeah, it's fine," I say, and there's a firmness to my voice that surprises even me.

Saint nods, seemingly satisfied, and turns away. I take a deep breath, willing my heartbeat to slow down. It's just a ride home. Just Chess.

"Good," Dre murmurs, releasing me slowly so I can slide off his lap onto the cushion beside him. "Because I think you two have a lot to talk about."

And maybe we do. But right now, with the comfort of Dre's hand finding mine under the table, I let myself focus on the here and now—the soft clatter of keyboards, the silent companionship, and the tangled web of feelings that I'm not quite ready to unravel just yet.

??????

I gather my things slowly, heart thudding in anticipation of sharing a confined space with Chess as the final bell rings. It’s unsettling how much I crave his company despite the chaos it stirs within me.

I want to believe what he said is true. I really do. So, I'm taking a leap of faith.

I might land flat on my face, but that won't be anything new. I can't move forward with my plan unless I'm sure about them. And, I can't be sure about them if I keep them at arms length.

He's waiting for me when I exit the classroom. Normally it's Dre there, so there are some whispers from my classmates as I step out to join him. Without a word, he takes my bag and my hand.

We weave through the throngs of students, each step taking me closer to the inevitable. As we exit the double doors, the crisp autumn air does nothing to ease the warmth spreading through my chest. Chess leads me to an old sedan that's seen better days. His car lacks the polished arrogance of Saint's ride. I'm surprised for a moment before I remember that Chess is a scholarship student.

"You ready?" he asks, walking me to the passenger door with a casual grace that belies the tension in his smile.

"Yeah," I reply. The car's paint is faded, some unknown color that was probably vibrant once upon a time. No tinted windows or chrome here; just the bare essentials held together by what I'm assuming is Dre’s mechanical savvy.

"Let's get you home, Addy." His voice is warm, but there's a weight behind his words that hints at unspoken conversations.

He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide into the seat, the springs groaning in protest under the worn fabric. Chess rounds the vehicle and slips into the driver's seat, his movements fluid like he's merging with the car itself. He looks over like he wants to apologize for what his car is lacking, but I offer a smile so he knows it's not necessary.

I don't need opulence. I grew up in filth and I'd honestly prefer that to the gilded cage I live in now.

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