Chapter Text
Abbie didn’t knock. She did not have the chance (not that she ever did).
The front door flew open and Abbie nearly collided with Caroline Cabot in the doorway.
“Oh—hi, Aunt Carrie,” Abbie said, breathless, already halfway inside the house. “Sorry—hi—”
Caroline laughed, stepping aside to let her in. “Good morning to you too,” she said warmly. “You’re early.”
Abbie shrugged out of her jacket, eyes bright, energy buzzing like she’d plugged herself into an outlet. “Couldn’t sleep. First day of senior year. Big day.” She grinned. “Also, I’ve had two Monsters.”
“That explains it,” Caroline said dryly, already turning back toward the kitchen. “Alexandra’s upstairs. She’ll be down in a minute.”
As if summoned, footsteps sounded from above. Alex appeared at the top of the stairs, one hand dragging along the banister, hair pulled back in a half-up, half-down look, eyes already tired. She paused there, blinking down at Abbie like she was too bright to look at directly.
“Why are you yelling?” Alex mumbled.
“I’m not yelling,” Abbie said cheerfully. “You’re just allergic to excitement.”
Alex made a sound that might’ve been a laugh if she’d had the energy for it and started down the stairs. “I need coffee.”
“Already handled,” Abbie said, thrusting a Starbucks cup into her hand before Alex could even reach the bottom step. “Vanilla latte. Oat milk. Light foam.”
Alex stared at the cup, then at Abbie. “…I hate you.”
“You love me,” Abbie corrected.
Alex took a sip anyway, shoulders easing almost imperceptibly. “I do,” she admitted.
Caroline watched them from the kitchen doorway, smiling softly. “You girls want breakfast?”
Abbie shook her head immediately. “Nope. I’m vibrating.”
Alex hesitated. “I might grab a granola bar.”
“There are some on the counter,” Caroline said. Then, casually, “Alexandra, don’t forget the yearbook committee meets after school today.”
Alex nodded, already reaching for the wrapper. “I know.”
From the hallway, a door creaked open and Aiden wandered out, hair sticking up in every direction, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Do I have to go today?” he asked no one in particular.
“Yes,” Caroline and Alex said in unison.
Abbie snorted. “Welcome back to Hell, buddy.”
Aiden scowled at her. “You’re annoying.”
“Correct,” Abbie said brightly.
Keys jingled as Alex grabbed them from the hook by the door. “Come on,” she said, slipping her shoes on. “If we’re late, Grace will be insufferable about it.”
“God forbid,” Abbie said, already opening the door.
Outside, the morning air was cool and quiet. Alex’s car sat in the driveway where it always did—a silver Volvo SUV, still pristine, still faintly smelling like leather and money and careful maintenance.
Abbie tossed her bag into the passenger seat and climbed in. “Senior year,” she said, grinning as Alex started the engine. “Ready to be insufferable ourselves?”
Alex pulled out of the driveway, coffee warming her hands, the house shrinking in the rearview mirror. “Let’s just survive the day,” she said.
Abbie glanced at her, her smile softening just a little. “Yeah,” she said. “That too.”
Olivia woke before her alarm. She lay still for a moment, staring at the crack in the ceiling that ran from the corner above her bed to the light fixture—thin, familiar, unchanged. The house was quiet in a way that felt tentative, like it might not last if she moved too fast.
From the kitchen down the hall, she could hear the sink running. That was a good sign.
Olivia swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, muscles still sore in a way she welcomed. She stretched once, slow and deliberate, then padded into the kitchen. The smell of coffee—real coffee, not the burnt kind—hung in the air.
Serena stood at the counter in her work clothes, hair pulled back neatly, mug in hand. She looked… fine. Clear-eyed. Calm.
“Morning,” Serena said, glancing over her shoulder.
“Morning,” Olivia replied.
They moved around each other carefully, like this was something new they were both trying not to break. Olivia grabbed a mug from the cabinet. Serena poured without being asked.
“You nervous?” Serena asked, not unkindly.
Olivia shrugged. “It’s just school.”
Serena huffed a small laugh. “Senior year’s not nothing.”
“I guess not,” Olivia agreed.
They stood there for a beat longer than usual. Serena took a sip of her coffee, then set the mug down and reached for her bag.
“I’ll be late tonight,” she said. “But I left some leftovers in the fridge.”
“Okay.”
Serena paused at the doorway, looking at Olivia like she wanted to say something else. Instead, she just nodded. “Have a good day, Liv.”
“You too.”
The door closed softly behind her. Olivia exhaled.
She got dressed quickly after that—muscle tee, baggy jeans, hoodie pulled on out of habit more than necessity. She laced up her sneakers, ran her fingers through her hair, slipped her rings onto her fingers. By the time she grabbed her bag, she felt like herself again. Grounded. Ready.
A car horn sounded outside.
“Coming,” Olivia called, already halfway out the door.
Elliot was leaning against the driver’s side of his truck, phone in hand, letterman jacket thrown over his shoulder. Kathy sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through TikTok, smiling to herself.
“Look who it is,” Elliot said as Olivia climbed into the backseat.
“Yeah, your ugly mug,” Olivia shot back.
Kathy twisted around to grin at her. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Elliot pulled away from the curb. “Senior year,” he said. “Don’t screw it up.”
Olivia leaned back against the seat, watching the neighborhood blur past the window. “No promises.”
The hallway buzzed like it always did on the first day—too loud, too bright, everyone pretending summer hadn’t changed them.
“Alexandra!”
Grace’s voice cut through the noise before Alex even saw her. Grace appeared out of nowhere, arms already outstretched, ponytail bouncing as she wrapped Alex in a hug that smelled faintly like vanilla perfume.
“Senior year,” Grace announced, pulling back to look at her like this was a reveal. “You look beautiful.”
Alex smiled politely. “You say that every year.”
“And every year it’s true,” Grace replied without missing a beat.
Hannah hovered just behind her, smiling, nodding in agreement as if on instinct. “You do,” she said. “Very… put together.”
Abbie snorted. “She woke up ten minutes ago.”
Alex elbowed her, barely hard enough to count.
Sarah tilted her head, eyes flicking between Alex and Abbie. “So,” she said, casual but pointed, “how was your summer?”
“Fine,” Alex said smoothly.
Grace waved a hand. “Oh my gosh, did you hear they’re already talking about valedictorian stuff?”
Alex felt her shoulders tense. “It’s the first day.”
“I know, but still,” Grace said, leaning closer. “Everyone assumes it’ll be you.”
Hannah nodded. “You’ve always been so disciplined.”
Abbie watched Alex out of the corner of her eye. “She’s human too, you know.”
Grace laughed. “Of course she is. We just admire her.”
Sarah’s gaze lingered a second longer than necessary. “Andrew’s excited about senior year,” she added. “He was talking about with Mike.”
Alex’s smile stayed in place. “I’m sure.”
Grace clasped her hands together. “You two are just so perfect,” she said warmly. “Alexandra Bennett. It sounds lovely, doesn’t it?”
Abbie rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck.
Alex adjusted the strap of her bag, heart thudding just a little too loudly. “We should get to class.”
“Right,” Hannah said quickly. “Wouldn’t want to be late.”
They parted easily, like this was a routine they’d rehearsed for years. As soon as they were out of earshot, Abbie let out a breath.
“I’m going to fake my own death by October,” she muttered.
Alex didn’t answer right away. She glanced down the hall, watched the tide of students move past, and felt the familiar weight settle back into place.
“Senior year,” Abbie said softly. “You okay?”
Alex nodded, the motion automatic. “I’m fine.”
Abbie watched her for a second longer, then followed Alex’s line of sight down the hallway.
A group was moving toward them, laughter carrying ahead of them like a warning. Kathy had her arm looped through Olivia’s, leaning in close as she said something that made Olivia grin—wide and unguarded. Behind them, Elliot walked backward, saying something animated, and… Andrew.
Alex’s stomach dropped before her brain caught up. Andrew spotted her immediately. His face lit up, easy and familiar, and he peeled off from the group without hesitation.
“Oh—there’s my girl.”
Alex stiffened. She turned just as he reached her, his arm already settling around her waist like it belonged there. The contact grounded her and unraveled her at the same time.
“Hey,” he said, smiling down at her. “Didn’t think I’d see you before first period.”
“Hi,” Alex replied, a beat too late. Her voice sounded distant to her own ears.
The rest of the group slowed, curiosity flickering across their faces as they closed the distance.
“Hey, Alexandra,” Elliot said easily, giving her a nod. “Abbie.”
Abbie lifted a hand. “Stabler, Kath..." Her eyes flicked to his side. "Benson.”
Kathy smiled brightly, eyes trained on Alex. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Kathy.”
“Alex,” she said automatically, then corrected herself. “Alexandra.”
Andrew squeezed her side, proud. “My girlfriend.”
Olivia’s eyes flicked to him, then back to Alex.
Up close, Alex was even more polished—composed in a way that felt deliberate. Olivia clocked the tension immediately: the straightened spine, the carefully neutral expression, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“This is Olivia,” Kathy said, gesturing. “Liv, this is Andrew’s girlfriend I was telling you about.”
Alex’s gaze shifted. Olivia met her eyes, steady and curious, her smile softening out of habit.
“Hey.”
Something twisted sharply in Alex’s stomach—hot and sudden and completely unwelcome. She felt it low and fast, like she’d missed a step on the stairs. Her fingers curled into the strap of her bag.
“Hi,” Alex said, cool and clipped, before she could stop herself.
Olivia’s smile faltered. Just a fraction.
Andrew didn’t seem to notice. “Liv’s on the soccer team,” he said. “Absolute menace on the field.”
Olivia huffed a laugh. “I prefer ‘dedicated.’”
Alex nodded once, distant. “That’s… great.”
Abbie shot her a look.
Olivia clocked it all—the frost, the restraint, the way Alex’s attention flickered everywhere but her face. It felt intentional.
“Well,” Elliot said, clapping his hands together, breaking the moment, “we should get moving before we’re late.”
“Yeah,” Kathy agreed, squeezing Olivia’s arm again.
Andrew leaned in, brushing a quick kiss against Alex’s temple. “See you at lunch?”
Alex swallowed. “Yeah.”
As they walked away, Olivia glanced back once. Alex was still standing there, expression carefully unreadable, Abbie at her side, eyes following Olivia in a way she didn’t seem to realize. Olivia turned forward again, jaw tightening. She didn’t like icy.
And for reasons she couldn’t quite name yet, she especially didn’t like Alexandra Cabot.
Olivia kept her eyes forward as they walked, but the moment replayed anyway—Alex’s pause, the way her gaze had stalled and then shut down, the clipped hello. The chill that followed. She exhaled slowly through her nose.
“Okay,” Kathy said beside her, glancing back once. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Olivia asked, too quickly.
“That,” Kathy said, nodding behind them. “Have you two… met?”
Olivia scoffed. “Nope. Never.”
“She’s Andrew’s girlfriend. Which, by the way—” Elliot made a vague gesture. “Awkward.”
“Yeah,” Olivia said. Her jaw tightened. “She didn’t seem thrilled.”
Kathy tilted her head, studying her. “Do you think—”
“It’s fine,” Olivia cut in. She shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket, fingers brushing familiar fabric, grounding herself. “I’ve seen it before.”
Elliot frowned, oblivious as ever. “Seen what?”
Olivia shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “The look. The whole… realization.”
Kathy slowed a step. “Liv—”
“She realized,” Olivia said quietly. “That I’m gay. And then she decided she didn’t like me.”
Elliot stopped walking. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Olivia said. “It’s always the same. Polite first. Careful. Then distant. Like if they stay cold enough, it won’t touch them.”
Kathy reached out, squeezing her arm. “She didn’t seem—”
“She did,” Olivia insisted. “She stiffened. She shut down.”
Elliot blew out a breath. “So what, she’s homophobic now?”
“No,” Olivia said, immediately. “No.” She shook her head. “Just… uncomfortable. Probably didn’t expect it. Pastor’s kid, right?”
Kathy winced. “Yeah.”
“Figures,” Olivia muttered.
They reached the doors, the noise of the school swelling around them again. Olivia straightened her shoulders automatically, putting the familiar armor back on.
“Drop it,” she said, already moving forward.
Behind them, down the hall, Alexandra Cabot stood frozen in place for half a second too long—heart racing, palms damp, eyes still tracking Olivia Benson.
The cafeteria was loud in the way it always was at lunch—metal chairs scraping, voices overlapping, someone laughing too hard at something that wasn’t that funny.
Alex sat at the end of a long table, Andrew beside her, his knee angled toward hers under the table. He was talking—something about practice, about the new plays Coach was trying—but Alex was only half listening, absently pushing her fork through her food.
“So Elliot’s already in captain mode,” Andrew was saying. “They’ve got some meeting now about grades and benching.”
“Mm,” Alex murmured.
Andrew leaned in, lowering his voice. “You okay? You were kind of quiet this morning.”
Alex lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “Just tired.”
Andrew accepted that easily, turning back to his tray.
Across the cafeteria, Abbie spotted them and made a beeline over, weaving through tables with practiced ease. She slowed when she saw who was sitting nearby.
Olivia Benson was perched at the edge of another table, scanning the room like she was waiting for someone. There was something closed-off about her posture now, shoulders squared, gaze distant.
“Hey,” Abbie said, stopping in front of her. “You waiting for someone?”
Olivia blinked, startled. “Uh—yeah. Kathy.”
Abbie glanced over her shoulder, then back at Olivia. “You guys can sit with us, if you want.”
Olivia followed her gaze—to Alex and Andrew.
She hesitated. “It’s okay, I don’t—”
“Seriously,” Abbie said easily. “We don’t bite.”
Olivia stood there, expression guarded now, eyes flicking briefly to Andrew’s arm slung comfortably along the back of Alex’s chair. Something unreadable crossed her face.
“Liv!” Kathy’s voice cut through the noise as she approached, tray in hand.
She took in the scene at one glance. Her eyes met Olivia’s. It was quick a look, but Olivia knew what she was saying. She sighed.
“Fine,” she said, more to Kathy than anyone else, then followed behind Abbie.
Andrew smiled, oblivious. “Hey, I’m Andrew. We met earlier.”
“Olivia,” she replied.
Alex didn’t say anything. She couldn’t trust her voice yet.
Abbie dropped into the seat across from them, grinning. “So,” she said brightly, “how’s everyone’s first day going?”
Alex’s fingers curled tighter around her fork.
Olivia leaned back in her chair, arms crossing loosely over her chest, gaze fixed on Alex with something sharper now—curiosity edged with assumption. This was going to be a test.
For a minute, no one spoke. The table felt smaller than it had a moment ago, like the air had been pulled tight between them. Andrew kept eating, blissfully unaware, scrolling through something on his phone with one hand while he chewed.
“So,” Abbie said finally, glancing between Alex and Olivia with open curiosity, “you’re on the soccer team, right?”
Olivia nodded. “Yeah.”
“Varsity?” Abbie asked, genuinely interested.
“Yeah. Captain,” Olivia said, then added, almost reflexively, “This year.”
Andrew looked up. “Damn. Congrats.”
“Thanks.”
Alex’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Captain. Of course.
“That must be a lot of work,” Alex said. Her voice came out even, polite—carefully neutral.
Olivia’s eyes flicked to her. “We’ll see.”
“So how do you balance that with school?” Abbie asked, clearly enjoying herself now. “Because Alex is basically allergic to anything less than an A.”
Alex shot her a look. “I am not.”
“You color-code your planner,” Abbie said sweetly. “You’re allergic.”
Andrew laughed. “She’s not wrong.”
Alex smiled tightly, then glanced at Olivia without meaning to.
Olivia was observing her now. The gold jewelry, the careful posture, the way Alex never quite slouched even while sitting. Her softness felt guarded, intentional. Like something wrapped too carefully to be touched.
“Yearbook, right?” Olivia said suddenly.
Alex blinked. “What?”
“You’re on yearbook,” Olivia repeated. “I heard Mr. Hansen talking about it this morning.”
“Yes,” Alex said. “I am.”
Kathy leaned her chin into her hand. “Nice, Liv here is helping out too.”
Andrew frowned. “You are?”
Olivia shrugged. “They needed people.”
Alex swallowed. “That’s… great,” she said, and hated how thin it sounded.
Olivia tilted her head, studying her with a new sharpness. “Is it?”
The question hung there, deceptively casual. Alex felt heat creep up her neck.
“Of course.”
“Right,” Olivia said, leaning back again, crossing her arms. “Just checking.”
Kathy shot Olivia a look. A warning one.
Andrew cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad you’re helping. Alex practically lives in that room during deadline weeks.”
Abbie snorted. “She once stayed up until two a.m. going over font choices.”
“They matter,” Alex said faintly.
Olivia huffed a quiet laugh before she could stop herself. The sound landed between them like a spark.
Alex’s breath caught. She looked at Olivia again. The easy confidence, the strength in her shoulders, the way she took up space without asking permission. The warmth she showed everyone else, now held just out of reach. The swirl in her stomach tightened.
“I should—” Alex started, then stopped, unsure of what she’d been about to say.
Olivia noticed then stood abruptly.
“I’m gonna go find Elliot,” she said, grabbing her bag. “Practice, right?”
Kathy stood too, touching her arm gently. “I’ll come with you.”
Olivia nodded once and didn’t look at Alex again as they walked away.
The moment they were gone, Abbie leaned forward, lowering her voice. “What the hell was that?”
Alex stared down at her tray. “Nothing.”
Andrew glanced between them, confused. “Did I miss something?”
“No,” Alex said quickly. Too quickly. “You didn’t.”
Across the cafeteria, Olivia didn’t slow until they were out the doors. Her jaw was tight, her chest buzzing with something that felt a lot like rejection dressed up as politeness.
“I don’t like her,” she muttered.
Kathy sighed. “You don’t know her.”
“I know enough,” Olivia said. “And I know that look.”
Back at the table, Alex finally let herself breathe. It came out shaky. And for the first time that day, she wondered—not for the first time in her life, but for the first time clearly—how something could feel so wrong and so right all at once.
Kathy got intercepted halfway down the gym hallway by another cheerleader, hands flying immediately as she launched into something urgent and whispered.
Olivia slowed, glanced back once, then sighed. “I’ll find Elliot,” she muttered, already veering off.
She didn’t hesitate at the locker room door.
The noise inside was familiar—laughter, lockers slamming, the low hum of music coming from someone’s speaker. A few heads turned when Olivia walked in, but no one said a word. If anything, a couple of guys nodded at her like she belonged there.
Elliot was sitting on a bench, pulling his cleats out of his bag, when Olivia dropped down beside him hard enough to jostle his shoulder.
“I don’t like her,” Olivia said flatly.
Elliot didn’t even look up. “Good afternoon to you too.”
“She’s cold,” Olivia continued, words spilling now. “Like, intentionally. Not shy-cold, strategic-cold. And she keeps looking at me like I’ve personally inconvenienced her.”
Elliot finally glanced at her. “You’re talking about Andrew’s girlfriend.”
“Yes,” Olivia said. “Her.”
Fin, tying his shoes a few lockers down, snorted. “Didn’t even say hi.”
Olivia waved a hand vaguely in his direction. “Hi.”
“Rude,” Fin said, amused.
“She’s doing that thing,” Olivia went on, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “The polite distance. The careful tone. Like being gay is contagious.”
Elliot frowned. “You don’t know that’s what this is.”
“I do,” Olivia insisted. “She stiffened. She shut down. She barely looked at me.”
“That’s not true,” Elliot said slowly. “She was staring.”
Olivia scoffed. “Trust me. I’ve seen this movie.”
One of the linemen across the room looked up from his phone. “You talking about Bennett’s girl?”
Olivia turned. “Who?”
“Alexandra,” he said. “Andrew’s girlfriend. The pretty one.”
Fin winced. “Wow.”
“What?” the guy asked. “She’s hot.”
Olivia’s jaw tightened. “That’s not the point.”
Elliot shot the guy a look. “Mind your business.”
The player held up his hands. “Just saying. She’s always been kind of… intense.”
Olivia leaned back, crossing her arms. “Yeah. No kidding.”
Fin finished tying his shoes and stood. “Maybe she’s just awkward.”
“Maybe,” Olivia said. She didn’t sound convinced.
Elliot nudged her knee with his own. “You gonna survive?”
“Barely,” Olivia replied. “And now I’m apparently on the yearbook committee with her.”
Elliot laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
Olivia shot him a glare. “Don’t."
From across the room, someone whistled. “Liv, you coming to watch practice tomorrow or what?”
Olivia stood, adjusting her hoodie. “Wouldn’t miss it.” She paused at the door, then glanced back at Elliot. “I’m not crazy, right?”
Elliot’s expression softened. “Do you want an honest answer?”
“Comforting.”
“She might just be… complicated,” he added.
Olivia scoffed again, but it lacked conviction this time. “Great. Just my type.”
She slipped back out into the hallway, leaving behind the echo of laughter and the familiar safety of boys who never once made her feel like she didn’t belong.
What bothered her most wasn’t Alexandra’s distance. It was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The hallway between lunch and fifth period was chaos—lockers slamming, people shoving past each other, the bell threatening in the distance. Alex barely noticed any of it. She was still replaying the way Olivia had looked at her. The pause. The question. The way her voice had gone flat right before she left.
“Hey.”
Abbie stopped short in front of her, forcing Alex to do the same. Students flowed around them like water around a rock.
“Nope,” Abbie said immediately. “We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what?” Alex asked, already defensive.
“That,” Abbie said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the cafeteria. “The ice queen routine. You were weird.”
“I was not.”
“You were glacial,” Abbie replied. “And I know you. So start talking.”
Alex opened her mouth. Closed it. Adjusted the strap of her bag instead. “I just—” She exhaled sharply. “I may think she is… um…”
Abbie’s face split into a grin. “Fucking hot?”
Alex choked. “Abbie!”
“Oh my God,” Abbie said, delighted. “Oh. My. God.”
“That’s not—” Alex felt heat flood her face. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Abbie replied. “You looked like you were about to short-circuit at the table.”
Alex groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I can’t do this.”
“Clearly,” Abbie said. “Because instead of being normal, you froze her out.”
Alex glanced down the hallway, as if Olivia might still be there. “She probably hates me.”
“Probably,” Abbie agreed easily.
Alex shot her a look. “You’re not helping.”
“Yes I am,” Abbie said. “I’m telling you the truth before you implode.”
The warning bell rang overhead.
Abbie stepped back, still smiling. “Relax. It’s just a crush.”
Alex swallowed hard. “If only.”
They started walking again, the noise of the hallway swelling around them, but Alex’s heart was still racing—too fast, too loud, like she had been caught doing something it wasn’t supposed to.
Alex reached the yearbook room five minutes early. She slowed as she got closer, the familiar sound of voices drifting out into the hallway. The door was open just enough for her to see inside, and she stopped without meaning to.
Olivia was sitting on one of the desks, legs stretched out casually, hands braced behind her as she talked to Mr. Hansen like this was a conversation they’d been having for years. She wasn’t guarded here. Wasn’t stiff or distant. She laughed at something he said, head tipping back slightly, shoulders relaxed.
Alex watched. It struck her, suddenly and vividly, how easy Olivia made it look. The way she spoke to an authority figure without shrinking or performing. Respectful, but not deferential. Like she trusted herself to take up space.
Mr. Hansen nodded along, smiling. “So you think the cheer team’s social media should be its own spread?”
“Yeah,” Olivia said easily. “They already do half the school’s engagement. It makes sense to highlight it instead of burying it.”
“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You working with them on that?”
Olivia shrugged. “I help Kathy sometimes. Graphics, captions. That kind of thing.”
Alex felt something small and sharp twist in her chest.
Olivia glanced toward the door then and caught her. The shift was immediate. Her posture straightened. The easy warmth drained from her expression like someone had flipped a switch. When she slid off the desk, it was controlled now, guarded, her arms folding loosely across her chest as if by instinct.
“Hey,” Olivia said, neutral.
“Hi,” Alex replied, voice soft but brittle.
Mr. Hansen followed Olivia’s gaze and smiled. “Alexandra, good timing. Come on in.”
Alex stepped inside, the door swinging wider behind her. She resisted the urge to smooth her skirt, to adjust herself into something more acceptable. Olivia looked away first.
Alex took a seat, heart still thudding, the image of Olivia laughing with Mr. Hansen replaying in her mind. It unsettled her—how much she’d wanted to be the reason for that ease. How quickly she’d noticed its absence.
Mr. Hansen busied himself with some papers. “You two will be working together on senior activities this semester,” he said. “I’m glad you’re both here early.”
Alex stole another glance at Olivia—at the set of her shoulders now, the careful distance she’d rebuilt in seconds. And for the first time, Alex wondered not just what Olivia thought of her… but how many times she’d done the same thing to her without meaning to.
The room slowly filled in around them.
Chairs scraped. Backpacks dropped. Someone turned on the overhead lights a little too bright. Alex focused on arranging her notebook, aligning the edges with unnecessary precision, anything to keep her eyes from drifting.
They drifted anyway.
A girl Alex recognized from student council—Maya, a cheerleader with a perfectly curated Instagram and a boyfriend who played lacrosse—bounced through the door like she owned the place.
“Liv!” she said, voice pitched high with familiarity.
Olivia looked up and smiled, her guard lowering just enough. “Hey.”
Maya crossed the room without hesitation and slid into the seat beside Olivia, her thigh pressing against Olivia’s, arm draping easily over her shoulder like it was nothing. Too close. Too casual.
Alex’s fingers stilled around her pen.
“I didn’t know you were doing yearbook too,” Maya said, leaning in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “I swear, you’re everywhere.”
Olivia chuckled. “I get around.”
Maya laughed, squeezing Olivia’s arm. “You should come over sometime—Jason wouldn’t mind.”
Olivia snorted. “I don’t know about that.”
“Oh please,” Maya said, leaning in again, close enough that her hair brushed Olivia’s shoulder. “He knows I—” she searched for the word, lips curling, “got a little thing for you.”
Alex’s pen snapped in her fingers.
Olivia laughed, low and easy. “Someone spike your milk at lunch?”
“I had fruit punch,” Maya said, grinning. “Let's just say, if I weren’t taken…” She let the sentence trail off pointedly, eyes flicking down Olivia’s chest before darting back up again.
Alex’s breath caught.
Olivia turned just barely at the sound behind her. She felt Alex’s tension like static in the air—felt it coil tighter with every second.
“Guess you’ll never know,” Olivia said lightly, tilting her head, letting Maya’s hand stay where it was a beat longer than necessary.
Maya hummed. “You’re cruel.”
“Someone’s gotta be.”
Maya laughed again, fingers sliding briefly down Olivia’s forearm before she finally pulled back. “Text me later?”
“Sure,” Olivia said, casually. She wouldn't, but this game Maya played with her wasn't anything new. She let it happen.
Alex’s stomach lurched. From her seat, it looked easy. Familiar. Like this was something Olivia did all the time—accepted attention, basked in it, let people orbit her without consequence. Alex forced herself to breathe, to keep her face neutral, but her pulse was loud in her ears. Her mind scrambled for something solid—Andrew, church, the rules she knew how to follow.
Across the table, Olivia leaned back, arms crossing, gaze flicking once more to Alex. She caught the way Alex’s jaw was clenched, the way her eyes had gone glassy and distant, her shoulders drawn in tight like she was bracing for impact.
There it was again. That look.
Olivia’s chest tightened, something bitter settling in alongside the hurt. Right, she thought. I get it.
Mr. Hansen called the room to order, voices quieting as he started talking through assignments. Maya finally turned away, attention shifting elsewhere.
Alex didn’t look up once.
And Olivia, watching her from the corner of her eye, felt her earlier assumption harden into something heavier, something colder. If this was how Alex reacted to her—tense, closed-off, almost afraid—then Olivia wasn’t imagining things.
Alexandra Cabot didn’t want Olivia near her.
“All right,” Mr. Hansen said finally, clapping his hands once. “That’s it for today. We’ll start assigning spreads tomorrow, so come prepared with ideas.”
Chairs scraped back. Bags were slung over shoulders. The room emptied quickly, the late-afternoon sun slanting through the windows in long, dusty beams.
“Liv,” Mr. Hansen added, glancing up from his desk. “Can you stick around for a minute?”
Olivia paused. She nodded once. “Yeah.”
Alex froze. She hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. She could leave. She should leave. But her feet didn’t move fast enough, and suddenly she was lingering by her chair, pretending to reorganize papers she didn’t need to touch.
Mr. Hansen lowered his voice. “How was your summer?”
Olivia leaned back against a desk, shrugging. “It was… fine.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”
Alex’s chest tightened.
Olivia exhaled slowly. "It was okay,” she said, carefully. “Mostly.”
Mr. Hansen nodded, understanding passing between them without explanation. “And how are things at home?”
“My mom’s been herself,” Olivia said finally. “She’s back to work now, thankfully.” A beat. “I stayed with the Stabler's a lot.”
Mr. Hansen’s voice softened. “I’m glad you had somewhere safe.”
Alex’s throat went dry. She stared at the floor, heart pounding, suddenly acutely aware that she was hearing something she wasn’t meant to.
Olivia must have felt it too—must have sensed the extra presence in the room—because she turned. Her eyes met Alex’s. The warmth vanished instantly. Her posture shifted, shoulders squaring, expression closing off like a door being shut firmly. Whatever softness had been there a moment ago was gone.
Alex swallowed. “I—"
“You heard nothing,” Olivia cut her off flatly.
Alex nodded immediately. “I won’t—I didn’t—I promise.”
Silence pressed in again. Alex took a breath, steadying herself. “When would you like to meet to work on the yearbook?”
Olivia blinked, clearly not expecting that.
“I don’t care,” she said after a beat. “Whenever.”
She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “Just—” she paused at the door, glancing back once, eyes sharp and guarded, “—DM me on Instagram.”
Then she was gone. The door swung shut behind her with a soft but final click.
Alex stood there for a second too long. She shifted her weight, finally glancing up—and locked eyes with Mr. Hansen, who was watching her with something like gentle curiosity. Alex felt heat rush to her face. She lifted one shoulder in a small, helpless shrug.
He smiled faintly, like he knew something. Alex didn’t wait to find out what it meant.
She grabbed her bag and slipped out of the room, heart racing, Olivia’s voice echoing in her head—flat, guarded, final.
You heard nothing.
The house was quiet when Alex got home.
The television murmured softly from the living room, the low cadence of the evening news filling the space without demanding attention. Alexandra Cabot sat on the couch, glasses perched low on his nose, one arm draped along the back cushion like he’d been there a while.
He looked up when the door shut. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said easily. “How was—”
Alex didn’t answer. She kicked off her shoes and headed straight for the stairs, bag still slung over her shoulder, jaw tight, steps a little too quick.
“Halt, baby girl,” her father said, voice gentle but firm. “What’s wrong?”
Alex stopped. Guilt bloomed fast and familiar in her chest. She turned slowly, eyes landing on him. He was watching her now—not with concern that pressed, but the kind that waited.
He patted the seat beside him. “Come here.”
She hesitated, then crossed the room. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud before she sat down beside him, hands folding tightly in her lap.
He angled his body toward her. “Try again.”
Alex swallowed. “I… I overheard something today,” she said quietly.
He nodded, encouraging.
“There’s this girl,” she continued. “I have to work with her. For the yearbook.” She paused, searching for the right words. “And I heard her talking about… things at home. Things she didn’t mean for anyone else to hear.”
Her father’s expression softened.
“It wasn't explicit information,” Alex went on, voice wavering just slightly now. “But she saw me. And she was upset. And I think I already messed things up.”
He let the silence sit for a moment. “That sounds uncomfortable,” he said gently.
Alex huffed out a weak breath. “That’s one word for it.”
He smiled faintly, then sobered. “Do you think you did something wrong?”
Alex shook her head, then stopped. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to. I just—” She pressed her lips together. “I didn't mean to hurt her.”
“I know,” he said without hesitation. “You have a good heart,” he continued. “That’s never been in question.”
Alex blinked hard.
He reached for the remote, muting the television. “Sometimes,” he said carefully, “we find ourselves standing in places we weren’t prepared to be. Hearing things we weren’t meant to hear. That doesn’t make us wrong—it makes us human.”
Alex nodded, eyes fixed on her hands.
“The important part,” he went on, “is what we do next. Do we lead with humility? With kindness? With grace?”
Grace. The word settled heavy and familiar.
“You can’t undo what you overheard,” he said. “But you can choose not to use it. You can choose to be respectful. To be patient. To let people meet you where they are.”
Alex leaned into his side without thinking, her head resting briefly against his shoulder like it had a hundred times before.
“What if she already hates me?” she asked softly.
He chuckled under his breath. “Then you’ll survive,” he said. “And maybe—just maybe—you’ll surprise her.”
Alex closed her eyes.
“Pray about it,” he added, squeezing her hand. “Not to make the discomfort go away. But to ask for wisdom. God doesn’t always remove the hard things. Sometimes He teaches us how to walk through them. Maybe you overheard for a reason."
She nodded again, breathing him in, grounding herself in the steady rhythm of his presence.
He smiled, kissing the top of her head. “Go on,” he said. “Get some rest before dinner. Tomorrow’s another day.”
Alex stood, heart a little steadier than before.
At the foot of the stairs, she paused and glanced back. “Thanks, Daddy.”
“Always,” he said. “I love you, peanut.”
She chuckled softly. “I love you, too.”
The gym was mostly empty by the time Olivia found Kathy again. Practice had wrapped, the echo of whistles and shouted drills replaced by the low hum of custodians and the distant thud of a basketball somewhere down the hall. Kathy sat on the bottom bleacher, legs stretched out in front of her, scrolling through her phone.
“Sorry,” she said when Olivia dropped down beside her. “Coach trapped me.”
“Shocking,” Olivia muttered.
They sat there in companionable silence for a moment, waiting for Elliot to finish up whatever captain duties had him held back. Olivia leaned her elbows on her knees, staring out at the empty court.
“You okay?” Kathy asked, glancing over.
Olivia shrugged. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Kathy hummed, absentmindedly nodding. “Same. I feel weird.”
Olivia frowned. “Weird how?”
“I don’t know,” Kathy said, wrinkling her nose. “Off. My stomach’s been doing this all day.”
“Did you eat?” Olivia asked.
“Barely,” Kathy said. “I thought it was nerves or something.”
She stood abruptly. “Oh—”
Olivia barely had time to turn before Kathy bolted for the trash can near the exit. She dropped to her knees and retched hard, one hand braced on the rim.
“Whoa—hey,” Olivia said, immediately at her side, pulling her hair back without thinking. “Easy, easy.”
Kathy gagged again, miserable. “Oh my gosh,” she groaned once it passed.
Olivia handed her a water bottle from her bag. “Drink,” she said. “Slow.”
Kathy took a shaky sip, leaning back against the wall. “I’m fine,” she insisted weakly. “I think.”
"You sure?”
“Yeah,” Kathy said, forcing a laugh. “Probably just something I ate.”
Olivia wasn’t convinced, but she nodded anyway. “If you say so.”
From the far end of the gym, Elliot waved, bag slung over his shoulder. “You guys ready?”
Kathy straightened, tossing her hair back like nothing had happened. “Yep.”
Olivia helped her up, keeping a steady hand at her elbow just in case. As they walked out together, Olivia glanced back once at the trash can and something uneasy curled in her gut.