CHAPTER FIVE - ELENA

The air inside the country club felt stifling, thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and overpriced cologne. I pushed my lobster ravioli around my plate, barely tasting the creamy sauce that once would have been my favorite.

The laughter, the clinking glasses, the effortless chatter of people who had never known real struggle—it used to feel like home. Now, it just grated.

Across from me, Cameron reached for my hand, his tanned fingers curling around mine with the same easy confidence he carried in everything he did.

Once, that touch had been comforting, like that was all I needed. Tonight, it felt like a weight, a heavy weight.

"Everything alright, Elena?" he asked, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He was concerned, genuinely so, and that only made the guilt of my thinking twist tighter in my stomach.

"I'm fine, Cam. Just tired," I said, pulling my hand away to swirl my fork through the mess of sauce and pasta on my plate.

It was a lie, one I had been telling so often lately that it almost felt like the truth. The real answer, the one that kept me up at night, that had my chest tightening in ways I didn’t understand, was too complicated to explain.

I hated that I’d been thinking about Noah in ways that weren’t exactly... pure. It wasn’t my fault, really. I’d seen the way his uniform stretched across his shoulders, how the fabric clung to his arms, hinting at the kind of muscles most guys at this school didn’t have.

I wasn’t blind—I knew he was ripped. And now, for some ridiculous reason, my brain refused to let me forget it.

It was infuriating.

Because Noah wasn’t supposed to be the kind of guy I noticed. He wasn’t polished like Cameron and didn’t have the easy charm or effortless confidence of the boys in my world. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was exactly why I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Cameron didn’t buy my excuse. He knew me too well. Or at least, he thought he did.

"Tired of what?" he asked, his voice light, but with an edge beneath it. "School? You know you can take a break if you wanted to."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could answer, he sighed, shaking his head. "You’ve been different ever since you started... associating with that scholarship kid."

Noah.

The mention of his name sent something sharp and electric through me, though I wasn’t sure if it was irritation or something else. I set down my fork, forcing my voice to stay even. "Noah is a classmate, Cameron. And I can choose who I associate with."

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth pulling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Of course you can. But you used to find him beneath you, remember? The ‘charity case,’ as you so eloquently put it."

I flinched. The words, once tossed out so carelessly, now felt like a weight pressing against my chest. I remembered saying them, sitting in the back of Cameron’s Bentley, a week before I started harassing him.

But things had changed. I had changed.

"People change," I muttered, looking away.

Cameron leaned in, his voice dropping to something low, something meant to be reassuring, but to me, it felt like a warning. "Just remember who you belong to, Elena. We’re a team. Destined for great things." He gave me that easy, practiced grin, the one that had always made me feel safe.

But now, it only made my skin prickle.

"We have a future," he continued, his fingers brushing against mine again. "Don't let a fleeting fascination distract you from that."

A wink. A small, harmless gesture. But the possessiveness in his words settled into my bones, cold and suffocating.

I knew he was right

I forced another smile, offering a noncommittal, “Of course, Cam,” before pushing back my chair and excusing myself. The moment I stepped away, I felt like I could finally breathe.

The ladies' room smelled of lavender and lilies, but the familiar scent did little to calm the restless energy buzzing beneath my skin. I gripped the cool marble sink, staring at my reflection.

The girl in the mirror was polished, perfect. Coiffed hair, flawless makeup, a Chanel dress that hugged her frame just right. Everything about her was exactly as it should be.

I straightened my shoulders, forcing the doubt from my mind. This was who I was—Elena Kensington, the girl with the perfect life, the perfect future. There was no room for uncertainty. No room for second thoughts.

And definitely no room for Noah Carter.

He didn’t belong in my world. He never had. And I couldn’t afford to start thinking otherwise.

*****

NOAH

The cracked sidewalks stretched ahead of me, littered with cigarette butts and broken glass. The streetlights flickered, casting long, skeletal shadows across the pavement. The air was thick with exhaust fumes, stale beer, and the lingering scent of fried food from a cart a few blocks down.

I shifted the canvas bag in my grip, the weight of my books grounding me.

The neon sign above Rodriguez’s corner store blinked in and out, buzzing like a dying insect. I pushed open the door, the bell overhead jingling in the quiet. Inside, the place smelled of burnt coffee and old newspapers. It had always smelled that way.

Mrs. Rodriguez stood behind the counter, her eyes softening the moment she saw me.

"Noah, mi querido," she murmured, her voice lined with concern. "How are you and the little ones?"

The little ones. Martha was sixteen now, Marcus thirteen. It had been just the three of us since I was 12 myself. Since that night, six years ago, when my father, drunk and furious, took away the only person who had ever truly loved us.

He killed our mother in one of his blind, rage-filled rampages. The court called it involuntary manslaughter. Eight years in prison, cut down to six with good behavior. A joke. He didn’t deserve mercy. He didn’t deserve freedom. But life wasn’t fair.

I forced a smile. "We're okay," I lied. "School's been keeping me busy."

Mrs. Rodriguez gave me a look that said she knew better but didn’t push. She just rang up my groceries, her hands moving slowly, like she was weighing her words.

"You don’t belong here, kid," she finally said, her voice barely louder than the hum of the refrigerators. "You're too smart, too good for this place. Don’t let it swallow you whole."

Her words hit something deep inside me. Because I knew. I’d always known. This neighborhood, the broken sidewalks, the rusted-out cars, the ghosts of lost dreams hovering around every corner—it was never supposed to be my forever.

I had spent my whole life clawing my way out, fighting to be more than just another statistic. The scholarship to Blackwood Academy had been my golden ticket, proof that I could make it.

But that world wasn’t easy either. There, I was an outsider in a different way. I felt it in the careful way they spoke around me—the lingering stares when I walked into a room.

People like Elena and Cameron had been born into that life, groomed for it. Me? I was just a visitor, barely tolerated, and constantly reminded that I didn’t really belong.

I paid for the groceries, nodding my thanks before stepping back out into the night. The cold bit through my jacket, exhaustion dragging at my limbs.

Two worlds.

And I belonged in neither.