Chapter 7: The Breaking Point

I thought I had finally drawn a clear line with Natalie. The next day, I threw myself into my classes, determined to keep my head down and out of trouble.

But after school that day, Derek and his gang ambushed me in an alley. The kind of alley that always smelled like stale pizza and wet leaves, right behind the bowling alley.

"Think you can mess with my girl, huh? You’re toast, man." Derek’s voice was sharp, the words echoing off the graffiti-tagged walls.

I denied it immediately. “It wasn’t me. You’ve got the wrong person.” I tried to sound calm, even as my heartbeat hammered in my ears.

Derek sneered, pulled out his phone, and showed me a photo. The screen glowed in the dusk, the image impossible to ignore.

In the photo, Natalie was lying on my bed, hair messy, cheeks flushed, collar half open. My room was instantly recognizable—math trophies on the shelf, my high school pennant above the desk.

No matter how you looked at it, it was inappropriate. Anyone who saw it would jump to the worst conclusion.

Derek glared at me. “There’s your photo on the bedside table. Tell me, isn’t this your bed?” His words dripped with accusation, his friends smirking behind him.

I frowned and tried to explain. “Natalie lives next door. When she comes over, my mom just lets her in. I don’t know when she took that picture…”

Before I could finish, Derek kicked me hard. “Shut the hell up!” The pain shot through my side, making me gasp.

I was caught off guard and knocked to the ground. Gravel dug into my palm, the taste of blood and metal at the back of my throat, my glasses sliding down my nose.

A gasp came from behind us. I turned my head, squinting against the setting sun.

Natalie ran over, anxious—her hands fluttering at her sides, voice cracking as she called his name. “Caleb, are you okay? Does it hurt?” Her voice was frantic, the concern in her eyes genuine—for a moment, I saw the old Natalie.

I pushed her away, keeping my distance. I couldn’t trust her—not anymore.

She had deliberately taken that kind of photo in my room, just to drag me down with her. My anger simmered, mixing with disappointment.

Now she was pretending to be the good guy? The hypocrisy stung.

Natalie’s face darkened. She yelled at Derek, “Why did you hit him? Who told you to touch him!”

“Derek, you’re a rabid dog!”

Derek’s face twisted in anger. “You care about him?”

Natalie glared back. “So what if I do? None of your business. We’ve broken up. I can be with whoever I want!”

Derek, full of hostility, picked up a brick and stalked toward me. His friends fell silent, the tension crackling in the air.

Natalie stepped in front of me, arms spread wide. “Don’t you dare touch him!” Her voice shook, but she didn’t move.

Derek: “Move!”

Natalie clung to his waist, pleading, “What if you cripple him? Then you’ll go to jail!”

So she was just worried Derek would go to jail. The realization hit me hard.

Derek hesitated, then dropped the brick and hugged her. “Babe, I knew you still loved me.”

The two of them clung together again. The alley felt even smaller, the air thick with their tangled emotions.

Derek swore to Natalie:

“I swear, I didn’t leak the photos. It must’ve been Marcus.”

“Last time my phone broke, I asked him to fix it. He must’ve seen our photos. I’ll beat him to a pulp.”

“Babe, you’re so beautiful—I’d never show you to anyone else.”

Derek held her waist and swayed back and forth, shooting me a provocative look. His smirk said it all: he’d won.

Natalie believed him, grabbing his ear. “Don’t you ever make such a stupid mistake again!”

Derek nodded eagerly, finally making her smile.

“Babe, I haven’t seen you in days. I missed you so much.”

Natalie whispered, “I missed you too.”

Derek glanced at the public restroom nearby, grinning lewdly. “Let’s go…”

Natalie bit her lip, hesitating.

Derek whispered something in her ear, making her giggle.

They walked off hand in hand toward the public restroom. The sun dipped behind the trees, casting their shadows long and tangled across the pavement.

Before going in, Derek turned and threatened me, his eyes vicious. “If you dare follow us, you’re dead!”

I brushed the dust off myself and went home. The ache in my chest was sharper than the bruises on my skin.

As soon as I got home, I changed my sheets. I stripped the bed, stuffing everything into the washing machine with shaking hands.

My mom asked what happened.

I replied flatly, “They’re dirty.” She raised an eyebrow but didn’t press—maybe she sensed I needed the silence.