Page 68 of Freestyle
He reads the message but doesn’t respond, not that I thought he would. I pull up Rowyn’s social media, looking to see if she’s posted anything new. I stare at a photo of her laughing, sunlight tangled in her hair, and something twists in my chest. It’s not just that she’s beautiful, though she is; it’s the way she looks so free. Like nothing weighs her down, and I can’t remember her ever looking like that when I’m around.
We made her small. Me and Nix, we never threw punches, at her at least, but I think our words did enough damage. I used to call it teasing, maybe a little bullying. Now I wonder if that’s just what guilt wears when it doesn’t want to admit it’s cruelty.
I kill the screen, the glow fading from my face. She stopped posting. Maybe she’s trying to disappear from us, and I hate the way that thought lodges in my throat and doesn’t move.
Nix knocks once and barges straight in and plops down on my bed, laptop in hand.
“You check her location again?” I ask. He simply nods.
We sit in silence for a moment before he asks, “You ever think we’re too far in? With her. With each other. With…this.”
Heat floods my body as his words wash over me. I don’t answer right away.
Because if I do, I might say toomuch.
The air between us has always been charged, ever since Rowyn pulled us into the same orbit. She was the gravity, sure, but something happened tous, too. Something we never spoke about, never even looked at for too long.
Until now.
Phoenix runs a hand through his hair, gaze angled toward the floor like it holds answers we’ve both been avoiding.
His voice is low, raw around the edges. I’ve known that tone in him for years. It’s how he sounds when he’s on the edge of something he hasn’t named yet.
I feel my chest tighten. Because Idothink it.
About her. About him.
About this twisted, tangled thing we’ve built from guilt and need and obsession.
“You mean, like… no way out?” I ask quietly.
He doesn’t look at me. “I mean like maybe I don’t want out.”
That stops me cold.
He finally lifts his eyes, and for one excruciating second, the air stills. We’re not just boys who bled for the same girl, we’re something else now. Something unspoken but undeniably more.
And that should scare me.
But it doesn’t.
Not even a little.
He looks away first.
Part of me is relieved.
The other part wants to drag his gaze back and ask what the hell that was between us just now.
Instead, he reaches for his laptop and says, “Here. There’s something you need to see.” He positions the computer where I can see.
“I got everything we were looking for,” he snaps. “But it’s not good.”
I lean over the screen, so I can read the information.
Confidential Report Subject:Rowyn Marie Caddel
Date of Birth:September 21st, 2006
