Need some help, shortcake?

Amara's POV

The school hallway buzzed with its usual energy—students laughing, gossiping, and rushing to their classes. I tried to blend in, keeping my head low as I walked toward the library.

Just as I turned the corner, a familiar voice rang out, sharp and filled with venom.

"There she is, the little tramp."

I froze, my stomach sinking as I recognized her—Jaxon's girlfriend. She was flanked by a group of her friends, their gazes fixed on me like vultures circling prey.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her lips curled into a sneer. “Oh, don’t play innocent, Amara. We all know what you’re doing.”

I frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”

She stepped closer, her eyes blazing with fury. “Because of you, Jaxon has been avoiding me. What did you do, huh? Flash him those pitiful eyes of yours? Or maybe… you spread your legs to keep him warm at night?”

Her words cut deep, the humiliation burning through me as a crowd began to gather. Whispering, snickering—it was all too much.

“That’s not true,” I said, my voice trembling. “I haven’t done anything.”

She laughed, a cold, harsh sound. “Of course you’d deny it. Girls like you are good at playing the victim. But we all know the truth—you’re nothing but a desperate little—”

She raised her hand, clearly intending to slap me. I flinched, bracing for the impact, but it never came.

“Enough,” a deep, commanding voice said.

The hallway fell silent as Jaxon appeared out of nowhere, his hand gripping her wrist. His expression was a mixture of anger and something I couldn’t quite place.

“Jaxon,” She stammered, her confidence wavering. “I was just—”

“Making a fool of yourself,” he interrupted, his voice cold. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She blinked, taken aback. “I-I’m defending us. She’s the reason—”

“She’s done nothing,” Jaxon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. “If I’m keeping my distance from you, it’s because of you, not her.”

The crowd gasped, whispers spreading like wildfire. Her face turned red, a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

“Are you seriously defending her?” she demanded. “After everything? She’s just a—”

“Don’t,” Jaxon warned, his voice dangerously low. “Finish that sentence, and I swear, Sabrina, you’ll regret it.”

She glared at me, her eyes filled with hatred. “This isn’t over,” she hissed before storming off, her entourage scurrying after her.

The tension in the hallway was thick as Jaxon turned to me. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen, replaced by something softer, almost… protective.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t let people like her get to you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” I managed to say, my voice shaky.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk returning. “You didn’t have to.”

The crowd began to disperse, but the damage was done. My humiliation was etched into every corner of the school now.

“Jaxon, why did you—”

“I don’t know,” he interrupted, his gaze meeting mine. “Maybe because I don’t like seeing her treat you like that. Or maybe…” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Because I don’t like the idea of anyone else making you cry.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. This was the same Jaxon who had bullied me, insulted me, made my life hell. And yet, in this moment, he seemed so different—almost unrecognizable.

Before I could say anything, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the hallway with more questions than answers.

The memory of Jaxon standing up for me lingered in my mind like an unwelcome guest. I couldn’t make sense of it. The Jaxon I knew—arrogant, cruel, the cause of so much of my pain—had disappeared for those fleeting moments in the hallway. In his place was someone protective, almost kind.

As the days passed, I found myself thinking about him more often than I cared to admit. His sharp words from the past and his softer ones now clashed in my mind, leaving me restless and confused.

I was lost in my thoughts during lunch when I felt the familiar shift in the air—the kind that only seemed to happen when one of the brothers was near. My head snapped up, and sure enough, Jaxon was walking into the cafeteria.

He scanned the room briefly before his eyes landed on me. His gaze lingered, and my heart betrayed me, skipping a beat. I quickly looked away, pretending to focus on my untouched tray.

But pretending wasn’t enough. Moments later, I felt him standing next to me.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, his tone surprisingly neutral.

I hesitated, unsure if this was a trick or another attempt to confuse me. “It’s a free school,” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He sat across from me, his presence commanding as always. The chatter in the cafeteria seemed to dull as people noticed us. I could practically feel their stares burning into my back.

“Everyone’s watching,” I said bitterly, still refusing to look at him.

“Let them,” Jaxon replied, his voice calm. “I don’t care what they think.”

I finally glanced up, meeting his eyes. They were steady, sincere, and it threw me off balance. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being…nice,” I said, the word tasting foreign on my tongue.

He leaned back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Maybe I’m tired of being the guy you hate.”

His words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. Was he serious? Or was this some elaborate game I didn’t understand?

“I don’t hate you,” I said quietly, surprising even myself.

Jaxon’s smile widened, a rare softness in his expression. “That’s a start.”

The rest of the lunch period passed in a blur, his presence both unsettling and oddly comforting. When the bell rang, I gathered my things quickly, desperate to escape the strange mix of emotions swirling inside me.

But as I stood, Jaxon reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. “Amara.”

I froze, looking down at him. “What?”

His gaze was intense, pinning me in place. “You’re not alone in this. No matter what you think of me, I’ll be here. Just… don’t shut me out.”

I pulled my hand away, my heart racing as I left the cafeteria.

That night, as I lay in bed, his words echoed in my mind. Despite everything, despite the walls I had built around myself, something was shifting. My hatred for Jaxon was still there, but it was no longer the only thing I felt.

And that terrified me.

---

The quiet of the morning wrapped around me as I stood in the kitchen, enjoying the rare solitude of the triplets’ lavish house. For once, I thought I had the place to myself; they had left for school early, and I could finally breathe.

I shuffled around the kitchen, trying to make a simple cup of coffee to wake myself up. As I searched the cabinets, I realized with a groan that the coffee box was perched on the topmost shelf.

"Of course," I muttered under my breath, standing on my toes in a futile attempt to reach it. My height had always been a curse, and this was just another reminder.

I jumped slightly, straining as I stretched my arm as far as it would go. My fingers barely grazed the box.

“Need some help, shortcake?”

The deep, familiar voice startled me so much that I stumbled back, clutching the counter to steady myself. My heart raced as I whipped around, and there he was—Jaxon.

He was standing casually, his dark hair slightly tousled as if he hadn’t bothered to fix it yet. A small smirk tugged at his lips, his gray eyes sparkling with amusement.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted, my voice sharper than intended. “I thought you left for school.”

“Clearly not,” he said, stepping closer. Without waiting for an invitation, he reached up, grabbed the coffee box, and handed it to me.

I hesitated, staring at his hand and then up at him. “Thanks.”

His smirk softened into something unreadable as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “You know, you could’ve just asked me.”

“I didn’t think you were here,” I mumbled, busying myself with opening the box.

“And what if I wasn’t? Were you planning to climb the counter?” His teasing tone made me bristle.

“No,” I said quickly, though my face betrayed me by heating up. “I would’ve figured it out.”

“Hmm.” He tilted his head, watching me with a look that made me squirm. “You’re so stubborn, Amara.”

“Stop staring,” I muttered, pouring the coffee grounds into the machine.

“Can’t help it.”

His response made me freeze. Slowly, I turned to look at him, narrowing my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, stepping closer again, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “you’re… interesting.”

“Interesting?” I echoed, feeling my pulse quicken as he closed the distance between us.

“Yeah.” He was close now, his presence overwhelming. “The way you act like you hate me, but then…” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t pull away when I do this.”

I stiffened, torn between stepping back and leaning into his touch. His hand lingered for a moment before dropping to his side.

“You’re infuriating,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And you’re beautiful,” he replied without hesitation.

My breath caught. The words were so unexpected, so raw, that for a moment, I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You don’t mean that,” I finally managed.

“Don’t I?” he challenged, his gaze locking with mine.

The air between us was thick, charged with something I didn’t want to name. My heart raced, and I hated how much his presence affected me.

“You should go,” I said, turning back to the coffee machine, desperate to break the spell.

He didn’t move. “Amara.”

“What?”

“I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Before I could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the kitchen, clutching the counter as my emotions swirled in a storm I couldn’t control.

The coffee brewed in the background, forgotten as I stood there, trying to steady my racing heart.