Chapter 2

He came home three hours later, smelling of rain and the cloying sweetness of Catalina's vanilla shampoo.

I was sitting on the couch, staring at a blank TV screen. I hadn't moved in an hour, fused to the cushions like a ghost haunting her own living room.

"Eliana," Jax said, tossing his keys on the counter. His voice was casual, light, as if he hadn't ripped my heart out earlier that afternoon. "Cat's fine. Shaken up, obviously, but fine. You really didn't need to make a scene like that."

He walked into the living room, loosening his tie. He looked at me, expecting the usual fight. Expecting tears. Expecting me to demand an apology so he could charm his way out of it.

I didn't blink. I didn't look at him. I looked through him.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, trying to pivot to normal. He walked over and sat next to me, reaching for my hand. "I can order Thai."

I recoiled before he could touch me. It wasn't a violent motion, just instinctive-like jerking back from a hot stove.

"I'm not hungry," I said. My voice sounded flat, foreign to my own ears. "My stomach hurts."

It was a lie, but it was the only way to keep a barrier between us.

"You're still mad," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know what I said at the pool was harsh. But she was drowning, El. I had to prioritize."

*Drowning in three feet of water,* I thought.

But I didn't say it. There was no point. You can't explain the concept of drowning to someone who is convinced they are the lifeguard.

"It's fine, Jax," I said.

He paused, surprised by the lack of resistance. "Okay. Good. I knew you'd understand. I promised her dad I'd look out for her."

He got up and went to the kitchen. I stood up and walked to our bedroom.

I looked around the room. It was filled with *us*. Photos, gifts, memories. It felt like a museum dedicated to a civilization that had already collapsed.

I walked to the dresser and saw it immediately. A small glass bottle.

Catalina's perfume.

It was sitting right next to my hairbrush. It was an invasion. A deliberate territory marker. She must have left it here the last time the "group" hung out before the party.

Jax walked in, holding a glass of water. He saw me staring at the bottle.

"Oh," he said, a flicker of something-guilt? annoyance?-crossing his face. "Cat must have left that. I'll give it back to her tomorrow."

"It's fine," I said again.

He frowned. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because it is."

I walked over to the corner of the room where a giant teddy bear sat. He had won it for me at the county fair on our first date. He had named it Elie Bear.

I picked it up. It was heavy, burdened with dust.

"What are you doing?" Jax asked.

I walked out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. I opened the trash can and shoved the bear inside. It was too big, resisting its fate, so I forced it down, crushing its synthetic smile against the wet, dark sludge of yesterday's coffee grounds.

"Eliana!" Jax snapped. "What the hell? That's sentimental."

"I'm cleaning," I said calmly. "It attracts dust."

The next day at school was worse.

I was in the cafeteria line when I heard her voice. Catalina was holding court at a center table, her arm draped with practiced casualness over the back of Jax's chair.

"He's just so protective," she was saying, loud enough for the next three tables to hear. "Even his mom says he's always been that way with me. Since we were kids. He just knows what I need before I even ask."

My friends were sitting nearby, looking at their trays, uncomfortable. They knew. Everyone knew.

"I heard he left Eliana at the party just to drive you home," a girl asked.

Catalina laughed, a tinkling, artificial sound. "Oh, Eliana is sweet, but she gets so anxious. Jax just had to handle the situation."

I felt the eyes on me. Pity. Amusement.

Jax was sitting right there. He was eating his sandwich, nodding along, not correcting her. Not defending me.

He looked up and saw me. For a second, he looked guilty. He started to stand up.

I turned around and walked out of the cafeteria.

Later that afternoon, I found my locker open. Inside, my dance trophy-the one I had won last year, the one Jax said he was so proud of-had been moved to the bottom shelf, turned backward. In its place was a framed photo of the cheer squad. Catalina was front and center.

I didn't scream. I didn't smash the frame.

I just closed the locker.

"Hey," Jax appeared beside me, breathless. "I was looking for you. Do you want to go to the movies tonight? Just us?"

He was trying. He was buying tickets for a voyage on a ship that had already sunk.

"I can't," I said. "I have cramps."

"Again?" He rolled his eyes. "You're punishing me."

"No," I said, looking at the necklace he was wearing. It was new. A silver chain. Catalina was wearing a matching bracelet in the cafeteria.

"I'm just tired, Jax."

"Fine," he huffed. "Go rest. Cat wanted help with her trig homework anyway."

"Okay," I said.

He waited for me to argue. To tell him he couldn't go. To fight for him.

I just walked away.

"Eliana?" he called out.

I didn't turn back.