The locker room was quiet-too quiet.
Steam clung to the air like ghosts that hadn't been exorcised properly, curling through the tiled space in lazy wisps. The scent of eucalyptus soap still lingered, layered faintly over something more electric-like ozone before a storm. Somewhere far off, the bass from the field's warm-up playlist pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and oblivious to the chaos unraveling inside me.
I moved slowly, tying the laces of my shoes with fingers that didn't quite feel like mine. My motions were precise, practiced-tight ponytail, lip gloss applied just enough to mask the exhaustion, cropped cheer top adjusted to show the sliver of skin that made me look fine.
I didn't feel fine.
It had been days since Alec returned. Days of hallway sightings, stolen glances across the quad, lingering tension in Literature class. And yet... not a word. Not a brush of contact. He kept his distance like I was fire-no, like I was something dangerous. Something he feared would consume him if he got too close again.
But he looked. God, he looked. His eyes followed me like they remembered every inch, every sound I made when I wasn't pretending to be okay. And today in class, I felt it again-beneath the carefully chosen words and measured breath, the storm was still alive inside him.
And now he was here.
------
The door creaked open with a soft metallic groan.
I didn't have to look.
The air shifted-charged. My spine straightened on instinct as if every cell in me had been waiting.
Then came the sound of his footsteps-measured, heavy, purposeful.
I turned, slow and calm on the outside. Inside, I was chaos wrapped in gloss.
He stood just inside the doorway, haloed by the dim fluorescent lights, black-shirted and dangerous, his eyes fixed on me like I was both his salvation and the sin he could never forgive himself for.
"Alec," I said, my voice barely above a breath.
He didn't blink. "You tell me what I'm doing here," he said, stepping forward, "because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the second I walked away."
The distance between us evaporated with every step he took. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I held his gaze.
"Then why did you walk away?" I asked. The words scraped out of my throat, raw and soft and too full of everything I hadn't said.
He stopped just a foot from me. His expression flickered-grief, guilt, desire. "Because I thought it would protect you."
My laugh was brittle. "You didn't protect me. You broke me."
His voice cracked. "I broke myself."
Something in me caved at the sound of it.
His hand lifted like he might touch me-hesitated-then dropped again to his side.
"I was there," he said, his voice softer now. "At your party. I carried you inside. Whispered your name while you were half asleep. But I couldn't stay. I thought... I thought if I kept my distance, maybe you'd be safer. Maybe I could stop needing you."
The ache that bloomed in my chest was so sharp I nearly staggered.
"You are the danger," I said, not cruelly-just truthfully. "And I'm not afraid of you."
His crimson eyes darkened, shadows flickering behind them.
"I didn't want you to get dragged into the rest of it. My past. My blood. My father. All of it... I thought I could shut it away."
"But you can't," I said, stepping forward. "You can't outrun me. You never could."
We stood just inches apart now, our breath tangled between us.
"You want answers?" he murmured, voice a little breathless. "Or do you want something real?"
I stared up at him, heart pounding so loud I could barely think.
"I want you."
And that was all it took.
He surged forward, pinning me to the lockers in a blur of motion. His mouth crashed against mine like he'd been holding back for centuries, like something primal in him had finally broken free. I clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him closer-my body responding with a desperation that felt ancient and inevitable.
His lips were fire. Starved. His hands were everywhere-spanning my waist, dragging up the sides of my ribs, pressing me into the cold steel of the locker until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.
"You have no idea..." he growled between kisses, his voice raw, shaky. "How many nights I've imagined this. Craved this."
I gasped into his mouth as his hand slipped beneath the hem of my skirt. His fingers traced along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh-slow, taunting, reverent. The anticipation made me dizzy.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered against my lips, his breath warm and ragged.
"I won't," I said, breath catching. "I need you."
And I did.
He kissed me again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he was trying to memorize every part of me, like every taste and every sound I made was something sacred.
His fingers finally found me-slick, aching, already pulsing for him. My back arched with the contact, a low cry escaping before I could stop it. I gripped the edge of the locker behind me as his fingers moved with unrelenting precision, stroking through the heat and need he'd stoked for too long.
"You drive me mad," he groaned, burying his face in the curve of my neck. "You've ruined me."
I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulled him tighter against me, clinging to him as the pleasure built, spiraling, searing, overwhelming.
"You're mine," he growled, voice shaking.
"I've always been," I choked out, eyes fluttering closed, body trembling under his touch.
And then-something shifted. A sound. A name. Not Alec. Something older. Older than both of us. Something buried so deep it echoed through my bones like a memory I shouldn't have.
It slipped past my lips like a spell. Like a truth too long forgotten.
"Alecai..." I whispered.
He froze.
Every muscle in his body went rigid. His breath hitched.
Then he kissed me like a man unmade.
His hand moved faster, rougher, coaxing every sound from my throat. His lips found my collarbone, then my jaw, then my lips again-devouring me with a hunger that felt infinite.
"Say it again," he rasped, his voice fraying like unraveling thread.
"Alecai," I breathed, the name soft and reverent on my tongue.
And I shattered.
My head fell back, mouth open in a soundless gasp as the wave overtook me. My body arched, legs trembling, clutching him like he was the only thing anchoring me to this plane. He held me through it, forehead pressed to mine, breath matching mine in broken cadence.
When it passed, I was still wrapped in his arms, dazed, flushed, gasping.
I pressed a hand to his chest and gently pushed him back-not in rejection, but in grounding. I needed to breathe. Needed to pull myself together.
My legs were still shaking as I smoothed my skirt back down, fingers trembling only slightly now. I reapplied a touch of gloss like armor, tying my ponytail a little tighter.
"You good?" he asked, voice low and rough, his eyes heavy-lidded and full of something dangerous.
I met his gaze with a smirk. "You'll need to focus," I said, tugging on the hem of my top. "Try not to stare too much."
Alec's wicked grin spread like wildfire. "No promises."
------
When I stepped onto the field moments later, the world looked exactly the same.
Blue sky. Sun high. Music pounding from a sideline speaker. But inside me-everything was different. My skin still tingled where he'd touched me. My lips still ached from his kiss. And somewhere deep in my soul, the echo of his name-his true name-still pulsed like a heartbeat that wasn't entirely mine.
I joined the cheer squad at the front, adjusting my stance and stretching like I hadn't just had my soul unraveled against a row of metal lockers.
Ana caught my eye almost immediately. Her brow arched as she took in my flushed cheeks and the subtle way I kept smoothing my skirt. She didn't say a word. Just offered a knowing smirk and passed me a water bottle before turning back to the formation.
I tried to focus-on the music, the counts, the routine we'd practiced a dozen times. But every motion felt disconnected. Like my body was here, but the rest of me was still locked in that room with him.
And then I felt it.
That stare.
I didn't have to look to know where he was. My skin recognized it first-heat blooming across the back of my neck, crawling down my spine like the memory of his touch. But I turned anyway.
Alec stood on the far side of the field, arms crossed, black t-shirt stretched over tense shoulders. His eyes were locked on me like I was a secret only he remembered how to open.
He smirked when our eyes met-slow, deliberate, and unmistakably dark. A promise. A challenge.
And it nearly broke me all over again.
I tore my gaze away, forcing my attention back to the squad as we moved into our next formation. I dropped to one knee, arms raised, the cheer pulsing in my ears like a lifeline.
But I wasn't the only one who noticed.
From the edge of the bleachers, Brett watched too.
His posture was stiff, jaw clenched, expression unreadable-but his eyes told the story. They flicked between Alec and me, narrowing just enough to betray what he was thinking.
He knew something had shifted.
And then, before I could process the tension unraveling between them, Brett was moving.
He jogged across the field, cutting through players and cheerleaders alike, eyes locked on me like he didn't care who saw.
"Resetting positions in five!" I shouted.
But Brett didn't stop.
He reached me just as I was stepping into place, grabbed my waist with firm hands, and spun me toward him.
His mouth found mine in a flash of heat and impulse.
I froze. Shock stole my breath. The squad gasped behind us-followed by a chorus of hoots and whistles.
His lips moved against mine with the confidence of someone trying to make a point-like he knew he was being watched.
Like he wanted Alec to see.
I didn't kiss him back. Not really.
But I didn't pull away fast enough either.
When he finally broke the kiss, he smirked like he'd won something. Like he'd claimed something.
"Couldn't help myself," Brett said low, brushing his thumb against my hip like it belonged there.
The cheer squad exploded into teasing whoops. Someone shouted Brett's jersey number like it was a victory chant.
I forced a smile. Shoved it onto my face like a mask and nodded like it was all harmless fun.
But my eyes drifted-just once-back to the sideline.
Alec hadn't moved.
He stood like stone, expression unreadable, but his eyes burned. Not with jealousy.
With something darker.
Possession. Fury. Hurt.
He blinked slowly-once-and then turned his back.
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with a guilt I didn't expect to feel. I hadn't promised Alec anything. Hadn't defined what this was between us.
But it felt like something sacred had just been splintered.
"Ready?" Ana whispered, stepping beside me.
I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice.
We dropped into formation.
As the music restarted and our bodies moved in time, I tried to ground myself. In the routine. In the rhythm. In something that made sense.
But deep down, I knew the storm wasn't over.
Not between Brett and Alec.
And definitely not inside me.
Because now I had more questions than ever.
About who I was.
About who I belonged to.
About what came next when silence was finally broken.
------
The locker room was nearly empty by the time I slipped back inside. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting long shadows across the tile floor. Steam no longer lingered. The noise from the field had faded to a distant hum.
I leaned against the cool metal of the lockers, chest rising and falling slowly, like my body was trying to remember how to breathe on its own again.
Everything today had been too much. Alec. The kiss. Brett. That name I'd whispered-Alecai-like it had always belonged to me.
But it hadn't just belonged to me.
It belonged to the girl I used to be. The one I barely remembered. The one I was slowly, achingly becoming again.
Footsteps padded across the room behind me. I didn't need to look.
Ana.
She moved beside me in silence and dropped her bag onto the bench with a soft thud. For a moment, she didn't say anything. Just opened her water bottle, took a long sip, and handed it to me without a word.
I drank, then let out a sigh that felt older than I was.
Ana tilted her head toward me, her voice low. "So... are we gonna talk about the kiss? Or the fact that you looked like you were vibrating during practice?"
I huffed out a short laugh. "Which kiss?"
Ana's brow lifted. "Oh, there were multiple. Damn."
I pressed my palms to my eyes, heat flushing my face again. "It's a mess."
"Yeah," she agreed gently, nudging my shoulder. "But it's your mess. And you don't have to clean it up alone."
My hands dropped to my lap. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Ana. I feel like I'm being pulled in three directions at once-by Alec, by Brett... and by whatever magic is waking up inside me."
"Then maybe it's not about choosing right now," she said softly. "Maybe it's about remembering who you are, before anyone else gets a say."
I turned toward her slowly. "Do you ever wish we could just go back? Before all of this?"
Ana's smile was sad. "I used to. But now... I think we're finally stepping into who we were always meant to be. That doesn't mean it's not scary as hell."
I nodded, swallowing the knot in my throat. "I kissed Alec. But then Brett kissed me. And for a second, I didn't stop him. I think a part of me wanted to see what Alec would do."
Ana studied me for a long moment, then shrugged. "So you're human. Or... mostly." She nudged me again, teasing this time. "Look, Scarlet-whatever's happening between you and Alec... it's deeper than anything I've seen. But Brett's not a footnote either. Just... don't lose yourself in either of them. You're the one with the power. You always have been."
The silence stretched between us like a thread pulled taut.
Then I whispered, "I said his real name today. Alecai."
Ana's breath caught. "Where did that come from?"
"I don't know," I said. "It just... slipped out. But it felt like the truth. And when I said it, it was like everything in him cracked open."
Ana stared at me with wide, awed eyes. "Scar... that's not just memory. That's bond magic. Soul deep. That name probably hasn't been spoken in years. Maybe not since-"
"Since before the war," I finished. My voice trembled.
Ana reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. "Whatever is waking up inside you... don't run from it."
"I'm not," I whispered. "Not anymore."
We sat in that quiet, sacred moment-two girls on the edge of something vast and terrifying. The past was no longer something hidden. It was something chasing us. Calling us. And piece by piece, we were finally listening.
Ana stood slowly and reached for her hoodie. "Come on. Let's get out of here before someone else decides to start a drama explosion in the middle of the field."
I gave her a small, grateful smile and followed her out of the locker room.
Outside, the sun was beginning to sink behind the trees, casting the world in gold and fire.
And for the first time in a long time... I didn't feel entirely broken.
I just felt like a girl slowly putting herself back together-one memory, one choice, one silence at a time.