Tate woke up with a swirl of emotions. She was happy—it was her birthday, after all—and her parents were finally coming home tomorrow. But nerves clung to her, too. Now that she'd admitted to herself that she had a crush on Damien, everything felt more complicated.
If he liked her back, how would she even handle that? And if he didn't... would it hurt? Or would she just move on?
So many questions. No answers.
Still, she decided she'd try to enjoy her day. It was her birthday, and if nothing else, that counted for something. She even put a little extra effort into her appearance before heading out.
At school, as she walked toward her classroom, a voice called from behind.
"Tate!"
She turned to see Allen hurrying up to her.
"Good morning, Allen," she said with a small smile.
He paused, giving her a quick once-over. "Wow, Tate. You look beautiful."
Her cheeks warmed—someone had noticed.
"Thank you," she murmured.
He smiled and held out a small box. "Happy birthday, Tate."
She blinked, surprised, as she accepted it. "Allen, you didn't have to... I can't accept this."
"I'll be heartbroken if you don't," he said with a boyish grin. "Just open it."
Inside was a delicate necklace—a silver chain with a small dove pendant. Tate stared at it, speechless.
"Don't worry, it wasn't expensive," Allen added quickly. "Just... please accept it."
She looked up, touched. "Thank you, Allen. I love it. I'll really cherish it."
He nodded. "I've got to run, but I'll see you later."
Tate watched him disappear into the crowd, still holding the box. She hadn't expected that. She didn't want to lead him on—but it felt wrong to reject something so thoughtful. So she accepted it.
"You know he's in love with you, right?" a voice said behind her, making her jump.
She turned. Damien.
The guy who'd been living in her head rent-free. Up close, he smelled like wood and fruit. His hair looked freshly cut, but his curls still fell slightly into his face.
Trying to act unfazed, she rolled her eyes. "And you know that how?"
Damien smirked. "I know the way he follows you around like a little puppy."
Tate shot back, "He's cool—something that might be a little foreign to you."
"Ouch," Damien said, laughing as he stepped past her toward the classroom. Then he glanced back. "Happy birthday again."
Her heart fluttered.
In class, Tate kept sneaking glances at him, but Damien seemed completely focused on the teacher. Their eyes didn't meet once.
Maybe that blog post was wrong.
Sure, he had teased her earlier—but that didn't mean anything. Maybe she was being silly for reading into things. Still, she couldn't help but wonder: What did he really think of her?
She glanced at him again.
This time, she caught him staring—but not at her. He was looking at Martha.
Tate frowned. That's... weird. I've never seen him look at her like that before.
He didn't look away. Not once. He just kept staring until class ended.
Later, when the bell rang, Martha pulled out a cupcake she'd saved for Tate. They shared it at her desk, chatting lightly, but Tate's mind drifted.
Back to Damien.
Back to the way he'd looked at Martha.
It couldn't have been her imagination. Even an ordinary person would've noticed the intensity in his eyes.
How had I never seen it before?
She and Damien had exchanged glances so many times—but she had never really watched him the way she had today.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from her mom.
Just as Damien walked over, Tate quickly looked down, pretending to be preoccupied. Her screen lit up with a photo—plane tickets. Her parents were really coming home.
"Hey," Damien said casually. "Hey to both of you."
Tate didn't look up, pretending to scroll.
"Martha, you haven't gotten back to me about what I asked," Damien said.
"Sorry," Martha replied with a grin. "I've been busy with best friend duties."
Tate blinked.
Best friend?
Had Martha really just called her that? The word made her chest warm unexpectedly—but the moment passed quickly.
What was he asking her about?
Tate stayed glued to her screen, keeping her face neutral.
Damien's footsteps faded. When she looked up, he was already walking away.
Martha tilted her head. "You okay? You looked kind of serious just now."
Tate forced a smile. "Nothing. My parents just sent me their plane tickets."
"Oh," Martha said. "Damien was just here."
Tate shrugged. "Was he? I was too preoccupied to notice."
But the truth was, she noticed everything. She just didn't want to show it.
She thought about asking what Damien had wanted—but stopped herself. She didn't want to sound suspicious.
After school, as they packed up to leave, Martha turned to her.
"I've got to run. Damien and I are catching a bus together."
Tate nodded and waved goodbye, but her thoughts wouldn't settle.
When did they get close enough to take the same bus?
Sure, Martha had mentioned they chatted online every night—but she hadn't thought much of it then. She hadn't noticed anything. Not the way Damien looked at Martha. Not how often they talked. Not how familiar they were.
How could I have missed all this?
And then, the question she'd been avoiding settled heavily in her chest:
Does Damien like Martha?
After dinner, Tate lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day over in her head. Every glance, every word, every moment with Damien and Martha echoed louder now that she was alone.
Eventually, she picked up her phone and opened her birthday post again.
There it was—Damien's comment.
The very first one.
He'd been the first to wish her a happy birthday officially.
A small smile tugged at her lips before she caught herself. Curiosity crept in, and without overthinking it, she tapped on his profile.
Just a little snooping, she told herself.
She scrolled through his posts—casual pictures, some with friends, one from when he was much younger. Even as a kid, he had that same effortless charm
She kept scrolling.
One post from a few months ago caught her attention—not because of the picture, but the comments underneath. One profile had commented "Love you" with several heart emojis. Damien had replied with matching ones.
Tate stared at the exchange.
That must be the ex Martha mentioned.
Her finger hovered over the profile name before she tapped it.
She didn't know what she expected to see. But it wasn't this.
The girl was beautiful. Breathtaking, even.
It felt like someone had knocked the air out of her chest.
She looked just like Martha.
Same glowing skin. Same long, flowing hair. Same soft, effortless smile. The resemblance was uncanny—they could've been sisters. She scrolled through the photos, trying to convince herself she was imagining it. But it only got worse.
And then she saw it—a picture of the girl and Damien together. He had his arm around her, and they were both smiling like they were meant to be side by side.
They looked good together. Too good.
Tate stared at the screen, her chest tightening. A bitter thought crept in before she could stop it:
Why would someone like Damien ever like someone like me?
His ex looked like a goddess.
And Martha—Martha looked just like her.
Of course he liked Martha.
Of course she was his type.
Tate turned her phone face-down on the bed, blinking away the sting behind her eyes.