Page 1 of It's Only Ever Been You

Chapter One

Our Beginning

Emma

Age 11

The air smells like pine and dirt, and I’m clutching my book so tight it digs into my ribs. I’m just trying to stay invisible, blending into the shadows at the edge of the playground. I learned pretty quickly after moving here that being noticed usually means being picked on. It’s always something—the way I braid my hair, the way I’m always reading instead of playing, or how I never seem to say the right thing when someone actually bothers to talk to me. Being invisible feels safer. If no one notices me, then no one can hurt me. But a couple of boys spot me anyway.

“Hey, new girl!” one of them calls, grinning in a way that makes my stomach twist. “What’s wrong? Scared?”

I keep my eyes down, my chest tightening with each step they take closer, silently begging them to lose interest. But they don’t. Instead, they strollover, their sneakers crunching against the gravel as they start circling me like vultures, their laughter low and mean. One of them reaches out and grabs one of my braids, giving it a hard yank. Pain shoots through my scalp, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. I wince, but I don’t make a sound. If I let them see that it hurts, they’ll know they’ve won. I’ve seen it before—the way boys like this seem to thrive on the smallest sign of weakness. But holding back doesn’t make a difference.

“Bet she doesn’t talk,” one of them sneers, his smirk widening as he twists the braid between his fingers like it’s a toy. He yanks hard again, harder this time, the sharp sting making my eyes water, but I blink back the tears.

“Hey, let go,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. The words come out shaky and small, and it only makes them laugh. It’s like my fear feeds them, like it’s exactly what they wanted.

Then the taller one nudges his friend, snickering. “What’s she even carrying?” He flicks at the book in my arms, and it tumbles to the ground, pages bending as it hits the dirt.

My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing louder than the jeers around me. My feet feel glued to the ground, heavy and unmovable, like they’ve been swallowed by the earth itself. I stand frozen, staring at the book lying in the dirt, its pages bent and smudged, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up. The humiliation burns hot in my chest, creeping upmy neck and spreading across my face until I feel like everyone on the playground must see it, like they must know how small and helpless I feel. My fingers twitch at my sides, aching to grab the book and run, but my body won’t cooperate. All I can do is stand there, the heat of my shame swallowing me whole as the boys’ laughter bounces around me, loud and taunting. I wish, more than anything, that I could shrink into myself, disappear entirely, become invisible like I’d wanted to be in the first place.

“Back off.”

The voice slices through the air like a blade, firm and unyielding. For a moment, the chaos around me stills, the boys freezing mid-taunt. I look up, my breath catching in my throat, and there he is—Ethan Belmont. I know him from class, though we’ve never spoken. He’s not the kind of boy you overlook, with his messy brown hair that always seems to fall perfectly into place and a confidence that makes him stand out in every room. But in this moment, it’s not his looks or his easy demeanor that catches my attention. It’s the way he stands, just a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest like he’s daring anyone to challenge him. His gaze is locked on the boys, steady and unafraid, like he’s already decided how this will end.

He looks… solid, like nothing could move him, and for a second, I forget the ache in my scalp or the way my hands are trembling. There’s something in the way he carries himself that makes me feel, for the first time in what feels like forever, like I’m not completely alone.

The boys exchange glances, their bravado faltering for a moment. But then one of them sneers, trying to reclaim the upper hand. “What, you her boyfriend or something?” he says, his tone laced with mockery.

Ethan doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink. Instead, he takes a deliberate step forward, his jaw tightening. “No,” he says, his voice low and steady, each word dripping with a quiet intensity that makes the boys shift uncomfortably. “But if you don’t leave her alone, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The boys glance at each other, clearly debating whether to keep pushing, but eventually, rolling their eyes, then wander off, muttering something about “stupid girls.”

Once the boys slink away, I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, my chest aching with the effort of keeping myself together. My knees feel unsteady, like they might give out at any moment, and for a second, I think I might actually collapse. But then Ethan steps closer, his movements calm and deliberate, like he’s trying not to startle me.

He crouches down, retrieving my book from the ground with care. His fingers brush away the dirt from the cover like it’s something precious, not just a tattered paperback, and when he hands it to me,there’s a softness in his expression that catches me off guard.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now. The sharp edge from earlier was replaced by something gentler. Concern.

I nod, clutching the book to my chest like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. My voice feels caught somewhere in my throat, but I manage to rasp out, “Yeah. Thanks…for that.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he glances over his shoulder, his jaw still tight as his eyes follow the retreating figures of the boys. It’s like he’s making sure they’re really gone, his whole posture radiating this quiet intensity that makes me feel oddly protected. The kind of protection I’ve never felt before.

When he finally turns back to me, the tension eases from his face. His eyes soften, and his expression shifts into something almost… reassuring. Like he’s silently telling me it’s over, that I don’t have to be scared anymore.

He glances down at the book, then smiles. “The Dragon’s Secret,” he says, like he’s surprised. “That’s my favorite.”

My eyes widen, and I feel a little spark of excitement. “Really? You’ve read it?”

“Yeah, like, a million times. The part where the dragon saves the kids from the forest fire is the best.”

I can’t help smiling. “That’s my favorite part too. I’ve never met anyone else who read it,” I murmur, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. Most kids I know think books are boring, but here he is, telling me about his favorite part. It feels like I’ve found a little piece of myself in someone else.

He grins back, and for the first time, I don’t feel so alone. It’s like he understands something about me that no one else does.

“I’m Ethan, by the way.” Even though I already knew that.

“Emma,” I say, feeling a little braver now.

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