Chapter 3: Second Chance, Same Heartbreak?

I stood in the hallway, heart pounding, trying to wrap my head around it. I almost pinched myself, half-expecting to wake up any second.

Back to my high school days, ten years ago.

It was like someone had hit rewind on my life. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the door, watching the class inside. My hands shook, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

The setting sun burned red through the windows, the classroom echoing with the sound of students reciting lines.

The light caught dust motes in the air, painting everything gold. It was all so achingly normal.

Through the glass, I looked at Lucas’s healthy legs under the desk and the clean, white sneakers on his feet, already scuffed and splitting at the seams.

He tapped his foot nervously, chewing on the end of his pen. I noticed the hole in his sneaker, the way his jeans were a little too short. He looked like every other broke kid in school, and yet there was something different about him—a quiet intensity that made him stand out.

Who would’ve thought this quiet, broke kid would someday become a ruthless powerhouse in the business world?

I almost laughed at the thought. If only the other kids knew. If only I could go back and tell him, "Hang in there. You’re going to be somebody."

The first thing to do after getting a second chance, obviously, was to stick close to the future big shot.

I made a mental checklist—study with him, be kind, don’t let him push me away. Maybe I could change things, just a little.

Even if I couldn’t win him over, maybe I could at least earn some goodwill.

At the very least, I could be the friend he needed. Maybe that would be enough.

At lunch in the cafeteria, I sat right across from Lucas.

The lunchroom was chaos—kids shouting, trays clattering, the smell of pizza and fries hanging heavy in the air. I slid into the seat across from him, heart racing.

He looked up at me with those dark eyes. “What?”

His voice was wary, like he was expecting me to pull some prank. I tried to smile, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt.

I pulled up a post from the school message board on my phone and slid it across the table.

The phone screen glowed between us, and I watched his eyes flicker with recognition. I could almost hear the whispers from the surrounding tables—everyone pretending not to watch.

“School queen Alexis Brooks blocked Lucas Ellery to confess; Savannah Rivers suspected to be heartbroken, lying on the football field sobbing like she lost her puppy.”

I read it aloud, trying to sound casual. The headline was ridiculous, but I knew how fast rumors spread in our school. One bad day and suddenly you’re the star of everyone’s group chat.

The comments section was blowing up.

People were ruthless, but I couldn’t help but laugh at some of the jokes. High school drama, I thought. Some things never change.

That morning, my memories of high school had come flooding back.

It was like flipping through an old yearbook—every awkward moment, every inside joke, every heartbreak. I remembered the smell of the gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the court, the way the teachers always seemed tired.

The first thing I remembered was this ridiculous post.

It had been a running joke for weeks. Even now, I could hear the echoes of laughter in the hallways, see the way people looked at me out of the corner of their eyes. I hated it, but I survived.

Whoever wrote it had a wild imagination—why weren’t they writing novels instead?

Seriously, with that kind of creativity, they could’ve been the next John Green. Maybe they’d end up on the New York Times bestseller list one day, spinning stories out of other people’s lives.

Back then, the pressure of prepping for the SATs was crushing. After school, I’d go behind the gym to feed stray cats.

It was my little escape. I’d sneak out with a pocketful of treats and sit on the cold concrete, letting the world melt away. The cats didn’t care about test scores or rumors. They just wanted food and a warm lap.

Over time, the cat warmed up to me and started rubbing against my jeans.

She was a scrappy little thing—missing part of one ear, fur matted from too many fights. But she was sweet, and she’d purr so loud it rattled my bones. Sometimes, I talked to her like she was my therapist.

Later, someone poisoned that cat. When I buried her, I cried my eyes out.

I still remembered the hole I dug behind the gym, the way the earth smelled after the rain. I stayed there long after the sun went down, hugging my knees and sobbing until my throat hurt.

I didn’t even notice someone nearby was making a big confession.

Turns out, while I was saying goodbye to my only friend, half the school was watching Alexis Brooks confess to Lucas. The universe really had a sick sense of timing.

The girl confessing was my nemesis, Lucas’s lifelong first love: Alexis Brooks.

She was the kind of girl who made everything look easy—perfect hair, perfect smile, always surrounded by admirers. I tried not to hate her, but it was hard. Especially when she seemed to have Lucas’s attention, too.

After marrying Lucas, I heard from his assistant that he’d gotten into that car accident chasing after a train for love, when he found out Alexis was moving overseas to get married.

It was the kind of story people whispered about in the break room, like it explained everything about him. I never knew if it was true, but it haunted me just the same.

Even in his coma, he kept calling out one name.

I’d sit by his hospital bed, listening to the steady beep of the monitors, and every so often, he’d mumble, “Lexi.” It broke something in me every time.

“Lexi.”

I tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, but I never could.

But no one knew Alexis like I did.

She was a master at playing innocent, but underneath it all, she loved the attention. She thrived on it, collecting admirers like trophies.

She looked sweet, but she loved watching poor boys fight over her.

I’d seen her at parties, watching the drama unfold with a little smile on her lips. She never got her hands dirty—she just set things in motion and let everyone else fall apart.

Once, she even told her friends at a sleepover:

“Watching these guys fall for me, one after another, is just… so satisfying.”

I remembered that night clearly—the way she giggled, the glint in her eyes. It was like she was the star of her own reality show, and everyone else was just there to make her look good.

...

After explaining the message board post, my mouth was dry, so I took a sip from the bottle of water on the table.

The cafeteria was loud, but for a second, everything went quiet. I watched Lucas, waiting for a reaction.

Lucas, though, stayed stone-faced, impossible to read.

He just stared at the table, fingers drumming against the plastic tray. It was like he’d built a wall around himself, and I was on the outside looking in.

After a long pause, he finally said, “Oh.”

His voice was flat, almost bored. I bit my lip, not sure what I expected.

“You drank my water.”

He pointed at the bottle in my hand, raising an eyebrow. It was such a Lucas thing to say—cutting through the drama with something totally mundane.

Me: “…”

I stared at him, then at the bottle, then back at him. I wanted to laugh, but I held it in. Trust Lucas to notice the smallest details.

Lucas was really strapped for cash.

He never complained, but it was obvious—secondhand clothes, packed lunches, always turning down invites to the movies. I tried to help without making it obvious, but he was proud.

But I had money.

Not a ton, but enough. My parents always gave me a little extra for emergencies, and I figured this counted.

So I hired him at a high hourly rate to tutor me after school.

He tried to refuse at first, but I insisted. "You’re the smartest guy in our grade," I told him. "If you don’t help me, I’m doomed."

Every day, I made sure to steer clear of Alexis Brooks.

I changed my route between classes, skipped the cafeteria when I saw her table full. I wasn’t about to give her another chance to turn me into the punchline of the week.