If falling for Ace Carter was a mistake…
It was the kind you didn't realize you were making until it was toolate.
I hadn't told anyone about the kiss.
Not even Melanie.
Which made it wayworse when she found out the next day.
---
"Are you serious right now?!"
Her voice practically echoed through the nearly empty library, where I'd foolishly thought studying with her would be a calm, drama-free zone.
I flinched. "Can you not yell? It's a library."
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I supposed to whisper *after you kissed Ace freaking Carter and didn't tell me?!*"
I sank deeper into my chair. "It just… happened."
"Hope. You kissed the school's walking red flag and then pretended like everything was normal?"
"I didn't know how to tell you. You've been against him since the beginning."
"Because I've known him longer," she snapped. "And trust me, it never ends well."
I stared at the table, heart sinking.
Mel sighed. "I'm not mad because you kissed him. I'm mad because you didn't trust me with it."
That hit harder than I expected.
"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I didn't want to ruin things between us."
"I'm your best friend, Hope. I'm here for you—even when you do something epically dumb."
I looked up, hopeful. "So… you're not going to make me delete his number?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I didn't say that."
I laughed despite myself.
---
By the time I got home, the mood had shifted again.
I walked in to find bothmyparents at the kitchen table, papers and pamphlets spread out like a battlefield.
"Hope," my mom said. "We need to talk about your college applications."
My stomach dropped.
"Did you finish the essay for Stanford? And what about Yale? You know early deadlines are coming up."
"I've been busy with school," I mumbled.
My dad looked up from a spreadsheet. "We just don't want you to waste your potential. You've always been the responsible one."
There it was again.
*The responsible one.*
The one who didn't mess up.
The one who didn't fall for boys like Ace.
The one who didn't disappoint.
"I'll handle it," I said quickly. "Just… not tonight."
They exchanged glances but didn't push it. Yet.
But I knew the pressure wasn't going away.
---
The next day, everything came crashingdown.
It started with whispers in the hallway.
Side-glances.
People staring at me and then looking away just a little too quickly.
I found out why by third period.
Brielle.
Of course it was her.
Somehow, she'd told everyone about Ace's brother.
And twisted it.
"They say Ace snitched on his own blood," one girl murmured behind me.
"Imagine trusting a guy who'd throw family under the bus," someone else said.
"Poor Hope. She probably doesn't even know."
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to scream.
It wasn't fair.
They didn't know what he went through.
What it cost him.
But more than that… I was angry that Ace hadn't told me this part was coming.
I needed to see him. Now.
---
I found him on the back steps behind the gym, hoodie up, earbuds in. Isolated. Like always.
"Ace."
He looked up, instantly tense. "You heard."
"Yeah. You could've warned me."
He pulled out an earbud. "Didn't want to drag you into it."
"Well, too late."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't think she'd go that far."
"You should've thought that. It's Brielle."
His jaw tightened.
I crossed my arms. "So is that it? You don't care what they're saying about you? About me?"
His eyes met mine, sharp and tired. "Of course I care. But I've been dealing with crap like this for years. I'm used to it."
"Well I'mnot."
That silence between us cracked again—but this time, it wasn't romantic.
It hurt.
"Maybe this was a mistake," I whispered before I could stop myself.
He blinked. "You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" My voice trembled. "I don't know who I am around you anymore. I'm lying to my parents, fighting with my best friend, and now everyone's whispering like I'm the girl who got caught slumming it with a criminal."
Ace stood slowly, eyes dark. "You think I'm a criminal?"
"No." I swallowed. "But I think I'm falling for someone who doesn't know how to let me in."
His expression changed. The mask cracked. "I'm trying."
"But it's not enough," I whispered.
He looked at me like I'd punched him.
And maybe I had.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
---
I didn't cry.
Not in school.
Not until I got home and found my old journal, the one I used to write in before everything got complicated.
I opened to a blank page and wrote:
"You can love someone with your whole heart…
but sometimes that heart's still not enough to reach theirs."
---