Tyler’s car is idling outside when I lock the door behind me.

I tug my hoodie tighter around my middle and jog the last few steps across the lawn. He leans over and opens the passenger door before I reach it, grinning like we didn’t just see each other twelve hours ago.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says.

I slip into the seat and toss my bag into the back. “You’re early.”

He shrugs, pulling away from the curb. “Had to redeem myself.”

“You’re forgiven,” I say, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

His hand slides across the console to rest on my thigh, casual and warm. “Still feel bad. That sandwich sucked, huh?”

“It was terrible,” I laugh. “But it was sweet.”

He looks over at me quickly, like he wants to make sure I’m not still secretly upset. I’m not. Not even a little. Not when he’s like this—smiling, soft-eyed, and trying. Always trying, even when he messes up.

Campus is only ten minutes from our neighborhood, but traffic near the turn-in is always a disaster. Tyler doesn’t seem to mind. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and sings along under his breath to whatever indie-pop playlist he queued up.

My backpack feels heavier than usual on my shoulders as we walk toward the main building. I’ve got two classes today—nothing major, but enough to keep my GPA stable. Ballet eats up most of my schedule, and the Gala trials mean even more rehearsals than usual. Still, I don’t want to slack off. I like school. I like doing things well. Even when I’m tired.

We’re halfway down the hall when I hear the first laugh—sharp, brittle, practiced.

Then Rebecca’s voice cuts through the air.

“Oh my god, speak of the ice queen.”

I slow down. Tyler doesn’t, not at first. But then he hears her too.

Rebecca leans against a row of lockers, all lip gloss and smugness, flanked by her usual clique—and a new addition. Zoe. Quiet little Zoe, now nodding along and pretending she’s always belonged there.

Rebecca tilts her head when she sees me. “Penelope. Wow. You look… tired.”

I don’t stop walking, but I don’t speed up either.

“Still playing ballerina, huh?” she says. “All that dancing and you’re still not as skinny as me.”

My stomach twists.

She says it like it’s a joke, like she’s helping.

The girls around her laugh.

Tyler’s fingers twitch in mine, but he doesn’t say anything.

Rebecca steps forward, smile dripping sugar. “Do you even eat? Or is it just like… ice cubes and desperation?”

“Rebecca,” I mutter, not looking at her.

But she’s just getting started.

She reaches out and trails her fingers lightly down Tyler’s arm—casual, like it means nothing. But she’s watching me the whole time.

“Poor Ty,” she says. “Does she even give you head?”

My entire body goes cold.

“She looks like such a prude,” Rebecca continues, eyes glittering. “Like if you touched her the wrong way she’d shatter. Or report you.”

The group howls.

Tyler pulls his arm back, finally. “Okay, that’s enough.”

But Rebecca isn’t done. She waves a lazy hand toward me and turns to her girls.

“This one actually thinks ballet is a real career.”

More laughter.

I don’t realize how still I am until Tyler starts pulling me forward again.

“She’s not worth it,” he mutters, guiding me away.

I glance back just once.

We walk halfway down the hall before I finally find my voice.

“That was Zoe,” I say, even though I already know it was.

Ty glances back, shrugs. “I think so?”

I stare at him.

I want him to be mad. I want him to go back there and say something. I want him to look at me the way he did yesterday on my porch and say, You didn’t deserve that.

But instead, he’s defending Zoe. The girl with the soft eyes and the now-familiar smirk who gets to fade into the crowd while Rebecca guts me with a smile.

I blink hard and turn away. “You really don’t get it.”

Tyler softens, stepping in close. “Penny, come on. Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“She didn’t mean it—”

“Rebecca or Zoe?”

He hesitates.

Exactly.

I shake my head, trying to shove down the lump rising in my throat.

“You’ve got a lot going on,” he says gently. “The Gala, rehearsals, your classes… this stuff, it doesn’t need to take up space in your head.”

“I don’t get to decide that,” I say. “I don’t get to choose what sticks. She humiliated me in front of everyone. She made me feel like I was—”

I stop. I don’t even know the right word.

Tyler touches my arm. “You don’t have to carry that. I’m here, okay?”

I nod, but it’s stiff. Mechanical.

He leans in and kisses my temple like nothing happened. “Text me after class?”

“Yeah,” I say.

He heads one way.

I walk the other.