CHAPTER 153

**ZION**

I pace the length of my bedroom, muscles coiled so tight it feels like I might combust. The air is thick, suffocating, and pressing down on me with every restless step. My hands clench and unclench at my sides, my jaw so tight it aches.

Clark is sprawled on my couch, one arm thrown behind his head, watching me like I’m some sort of experiment that might self-destruct. 

Ro is perched on the bed, his back against the headboard, drumming his fingers against his stomach, his expression one of total boredom. 

Harry sits on the edge of my desk, his fingers tapping out some random rhythm on his knee, his gaze distant, like his mind is somewhere else entirely.

I don’t stop moving. I can’t.

Finally, Clark sighs, rubbing his face like this whole thing is exhausting for him. 

“Alright, we’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes, and you haven’t said a fucking word. So… I’m assuming the emergency sirens wailing in your head mean Winter didn’t accept your apology?”

I come to a sharp stop, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. My jaw clenches so hard I swear I feel my teeth might crack.

“Oh wow, Clark, what ever gave you that idea?” I shoot him a deadpan look. 

“Was it the murderous scowl on my face? The fact that I’ve been pacing this room like a goddamn caged animal for the past fifteen minutes? Or maybe—just maybe—it’s the fact that I look one second away from putting my fist through a fucking wall.”

I throw my hands up, my voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. 

“Yeah, genius, she totally forgave me. That’s why I’m in here losing my goddamn mind instead of out there, basking in the glory of my redemption arc.” I throw my hands up, my voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. 

Clark just grins, completely unfazed. He leans back, stretching his arms behind his head like he’s settling in for a damn movie.

“Hey, man, I was just checking. Maybe you like pacing in frustration for fun. Maybe this is your thing. Who am I to judge?” He shrugs, smirking. 

“I mean, it’s not my fault you fucked up so bad that the girl would rather set herself on fire than accept your apology.”

His smirk widens as he adds, “But, hey, at least you finally admitted you needed a redemption arc. That’s growth.”

I shoot him a deadpan look. “Oh, yeah, Clark. So much growth. Maybe I should punch you in the face and see what grows there—besides your already oversized ego.”

Ro leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Calm the fuck down, man. Just talk to us. We’re here, aren’t we? No more pacing, no more sarcasm—just tell us what went down.”

I exhale hard, raking my fingers through my hair as the anger drains, leaving behind something heavier. Something suffocating.

“She hates me,” I whisper, my voice raw, barely holding back the tremor threatening to break me.

“She fucking hates me.” The words scrape against my throat like broken glass, burning on their way out. “And I don’t think I can make that hate go away.”

A sharp breath shudders through me, my hands curling into fists as if that might somehow hold me together.

“Fuck.” My chest feels too tight like I’m suffocating under the weight of it. 

“I need to do something—anything—but I can’t stand the way she looks at me now.” My voice cracks, betraying me. 

“Like I’m nothing. Like I’m some fucking parasite she can’t get rid of fast enough.”

I press my palms against my face, trying to silence the desperation clawing its way out. But it’s useless. I’ve lost her. And I don’t know if I can live with that.

Clark lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Oof. That bad, huh?”

I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand down my face. 

That bad doesn’t even scratch the fucking surface. The look in her eyes when she shoved me—like I was the worst thing that had ever happened to her—it’s seared into my goddamn brain.

Ro nods, his eyes still glued to his phone. His tone is flat, indifferent—yet edged with mocker like he’s barely suppressing a smirk.

“What exactly did you expect?” he drawls. 

“You thought after you blasted her all over the internet and dragged her name through the dirt, she’d just go, ‘Oh wow, Zion, you said sorry, so I totally forgive you. No problem, bro. Water under the bridge!’”

My teeth grind so hard that my jaw aches. 

“Shut the fuck up, Ro.”

He snorts. “I’m just saying, you played the villain, man. Now you’re shocked you’re not getting the hero’s ending?”

I spin on my heel, glaring at him, but Ro just smirks, completely unfazed. And the worst part? 

He’s not wrong.

I fucked this up so badly, I don’t even know where to start fixing it.

I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply.

My eyes drift to my cousin, who’s been quiet this whole time, staring off like he’s in another world. His fingers tap an aimless rhythm against his knee, his brows slightly furrowed, lost in some thought I can’t fucking read.

I narrow my eyes. “What do you think, Harry?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just hums absently, still staring at nothing, like we’re not even in the same room.

Clark zeroes in instantly, his grin sharpening like a damn shark sensing blood in the water.

“Earth calling Harry. Come in, Harry,” he drawls, waving a hand in front of Harry’s face.

Nothing.

Clark glances at me, smirks, then suddenly straightens, eyes going wide with mock surprise. 

“Oh hey, Ariel! What are you doing here?”

Harry jerks up so fast it’s like he got electrocuted, his head snapping toward the door, eyes darting around the room like a fucking lunatic.

Clark doubles over, howling with laughter. Ro chuckles. Even I let out a huff of amusement, despite my current emotional crisis.

Harry whips back around, face twisted in a murderous scowl. 

“What the fuck, Clark?!”

Clark is still gasping for air, wiping fake tears from his eyes. “At least I brought you back from whatever twilight zone you were in.”

Harry mutters a string of curses under his breath, flopping back into his seat with a deep scowl.

Clark’s grin widens as he leans back lazily. 

“So, what exactly went down between you two tonight?” He stretches lazily, dragging out the question like he’s savouring every damn second of my misery. Then, with a smirk, he adds,

“Tell me, did you finally get to fuck her, or are we still pretending you don’t want to bend her over and fuck her?”

The second the words leave Clark’s mouth, Harry moves.

Fast.

One second, he’s sitting there, scowling. The next, he’s on his feet, grabbing Clark by the front of his shirt and yanking him forward, their faces inches apart.

Clark, the cocky bastard, just smirk, all smug amusement. “Whoa there, lover boy. A little defensive, aren’t we?”

Harry’s jaw ticks, his grip tightening like he’s seconds from snapping. His voice drops, low and razor-sharp.

“Say that shit again—and we’ll see how funny it is when you’re spitting out your own damn teeth.”

Clark raises his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Damn, man, relax. No need to get violent just because I hit a nerve.”

Harry shoves him back hard enough that Clark nearly loses his balance. 

“Shut the fuck up, Clark.” His tone is ice, his glare lethal. 

“Not everything is a fucking joke… Why don’t you ask Ro what went down with him and Claire!?”

Ro, who had been perfectly content minding his own damn business, suddenly chokes—loudly. 

He coughs so hard it sounds like he’s about to hack up a lung, his eyes darting anywhere but at Clark.

Clark’s head snaps toward him, suspicion flickering across his face. 

“Tell me nothing happened between you and my twin.”

Ro recovers fast, straightening and forcing a nonchalant shrug. 

“No fucking way! Your twin is obnoxious. Totally not my kind.”

He says it too fast. Too casually. And yet, somehow, it’s the least convincing lie I’ve ever heard.

Clark’s eyes narrow dangerously. 

“Uh-huh.” His voice drops, laced with warning. 

“Just so we’re clear, Claire is off-limits.”

Ro snorts, crossing his arms. “Like I said, she’s not my type.” He pauses, then adds, completely deadpan, “I’d rather fuck a hose pipe.”

The room goes silent.

Clark just stares at him, looking genuinely disturbed. “What the actual fuck, Ro?”

Harry, still seething from before, suddenly cuts in, his voice sharp. 

“Yeah, what the actual fuck, Clark? If you ever say Ariel and fuck in the same sentence again, you’ll be wishing you’d ripped out your own damn tongue by the time I’m done with you. So do yourself a favour and stay the hell out of my love life.”

Ro, completely unfazed, gestures lazily between them. “Yeah. Mine too.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling hard. 

What the actual fuck is wrong with these guys!

Clark throws his hands up. 

“Oh, I’m the problem? Ro’s out here developing a concerning attraction to plumbing equipment, and Harry’s ready to commit murder over a girl he definitely doesn’t like, but sure, let’s all blame Clark.”

Ro shakes his head, unamused. “Hey, I never said I had an attraction to hose pipes. I just said—”

“Enough, you fucking morons,” I snap, my patience hanging by a damn thread. 

I let out another heavy sigh, rubbing my temples. “Can we please get back to my actual crisis before I start throwing punches?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, my patience wearing thin. 

“We are not here to dissect your pathetic love lives. We’re here to fix mine—or did you all fucking forget that?”

The room quiets, but Clark, ever the instigator, leans back with a smirk. 

“Fine. But after we fix your disaster, we’re circling right back to Ro and his suspiciously defensive stance on my sister.”

Ro groans. “Oh, fuck off.”

Harry just grumbles. “Yeah, seconded.”

And I? I swear to God, I need new friends.

I start pacing again.

Because Winter is all that fucking matters right now.

And I need to fix this before it’s too late.

“I need to do something… something solid—something that’ll make her forgive me straight away…” My voice is desperate, almost pleading, as if saying it out loud will make it true.

Ro watches me, unimpressed. Then he snorts. “Yeah? Good luck with that. Unless you’ve got a time machine or a fucking miracle up your sleeve, you’re shit out of luck.”

Tell me something I don’t already know.

Harry leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Alright, let’s start from the beginning. What exactly happened? What did she say?”

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair as the memories crash over me like a tidal wave.

I lay it all out—from Cindy showing up and making an already impossible situation even worse to the way Winter looked at me like I was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

“And then she told me that nothing I say will ever change what I am. That I’ll always be the bastard I’ve always been.” My jaw clenches, my chest tightening all over again.

No one speaks, so I continue.

“She said I had the whole college do my bidding to humiliate her. That I destroyed her reputation, and now I dare to apologize when no one’s around to hear it.” My throat tightens as her words replay in my head. 

"What, too much of a coward to do it in front of the same people you fed the lies to?

I slump into the nearest chair, exhausted from pacing, from the regret, from the anger and frustration clawing at my insides.

I let out a humourless laugh. “Then she turned to run, but her shoe slipped off. She twisted her ankle but didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back for the damn thing.”

Ro suddenly sits up straight, his posture shifting from lazy indifference to sharp focus. 

“What did you just say? ”

I frown. “What?”

I hesitate, rewinding the moment in my head. “Her shoe slipped off and—”

“No, before that, The last thing she said.” he cuts in, eyes locked on mine like he’s just pieced something together.

“She told me I had the whole college do my bidding to humiliate her… that I destroyed her reputation, and now I dare to apologize when no one’s around to hear it.”

Ro smirks, shaking his head. “Well, Z, there’s your answer. She told you exactly what to do.”

I blink. “Huh?”

Ro rolls his eyes. “You apologize to her in front of the whole damn college. Just like you humiliated her.”

The realization slams into me like a freight train.

Fuck, he was right.

I’d been so caught up in my guilt, so fucking lost in my own self-loathing, that I hadn’t really heard her words.

I stare at Ro, my heartbeat picking up speed.

I needed a plan. 

A real plan. 

A slow, determined smile tugs at my lips.

“Tomorrow,” I say, my voice steady, certain. 

“The whole fucking college, social media—everyone—is going to know how fucking sorry I am.”