Chapter 4 No Roses this Time

James scrambled for his phone on the nightstand, knocking over a half-empty water bottle in the process. His fingers fumbled with the screen, unlocking it on instinct. Instagram. Story tab. Melanie.

There it was, a photo she'd posted an hour ago. A blurry shot of her morning coffee with some indie song lyrics layered on top. She was alive. Real. Breathing.

She was here.

It still didn't feel real. After everything, after all that had happened, seeing her smile again, even just on his phone screen, felt like something sacred. Like a second chance.

But there was no time to sit with that.

James bolted upright, heart thudding fast. He needed to move. Now. Today wasn't just any day. It was the day. The day it all went wrong last time. The day he'd hesitated. The day Ashton got to Melanie before he could even open his mouth.

Not again.

He pulled on his clothes in a rush, barely managing to comb his hair before dashing out to the kitchen.

"You got ready so quickly," his grandmother said with a smile, placing a plate of pancakes on the table.

Hurriedly sitting down, James wolfed the meal down without a word. Every bite felt like chewing on air, but he forced it down. He couldn't afford to be late. Not today.

"I made extra pancakes. Share it with Cole too," his grandma said, sliding a small box into his bag. Her smile faltered when he barely acknowledged it. And he was already tying his shoelaces and running out the door.

The morning air bit at his cheeks as he sprinted toward the bus stop. Sweat beaded at his brow despite the chill.

I won't let him take her this time.

He reached the stop, breath ragged, only to find a small group of students already waiting. No bus yet.

His eyes drifted across the street, and his stomach turned.

The flower shop.

It stood just like it did that day, neat and unassuming, a small chalkboard sign propped outside reading Fresh blooms today!

He remembered it so clearly. That day, the way he'd run into the store, palms sweating, picking out the reddest rose they had. He'd missed the bus. Had to take the next one.

By the time he got to school, Ashton was already there. Already standing in front of Melanie. Already smiling.

Already winning.

James clenched his jaw and looked away from the shop. No rose this time. Ashton didn't have flowers.

But Ashton didn't need anything. He had charm, and money, and girls who practically begged for his attention.

And James wasn't Ashton.

But that was okay.

He didn't need to be better than him. He just needed to be faster. This wasn't about impressing Melanie anymore. It was about protecting her. From him. From what she didn't know.

From what he did.

The bus screeched to a stop in front of him, and the doors wheezed open. He got in, body bumping against the wave of other students cramming inside. Elbows jabbed at his sides. Someone's bag hit his back. But he held on tight to the metal bar, eyes fixed ahead like a soldier heading to war.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't need to look-he knew it was Cole. Texting him if he was really going through with it. If he was actually going to confess to Melanie. He remembered this part too well. He had read that message while waiting for the next bus. So this time, he didn't check it.

The only thing that mattered now was getting there before Ashton did.

The ride felt like forever. When the school gate finally came into view, James was already pushing through the crowd, heart climbing into his throat.

Then he saw it.

A sleek black car parked at the students' parking.

Ashton's car.

He was already here.

"No, no, no-" James broke into a sprint, lungs burning, legs screaming with each step.

His backpack slammed against his spine as he tore down the path toward the main entrance. The hallway loomed ahead like the mouth of a beast, inevitable, and full of the past.

He couldn't let it happen again.

This time, he would get there first.

This time, he would save her.