Lines Crossed
Caleb had a way of making the world fade away, and that night was no different. We’d driven out past the edge of town, where the stars burned brighter and the noise of everyday life felt like a distant memory. His car was parked at the edge of a deserted field, the radio playing softly in the background as we sat in comfortable silence.
“Do you ever think about leaving?” Caleb asked suddenly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Just… getting out of here and starting over?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted, hugging my knees to my chest. “But it’s not that simple.”
“Nothing worth it ever is,” he said, turning to look at me. There was something in his expression—intense and unguarded—that made my breath catch.
Before I could respond, he leaned in, his hand sliding around the back of my neck as his lips found mine. The kiss was deep and insistent, sending a rush of heat through me. My hands moved instinctively to his shoulders, clinging to him as the moment spiraled into something more.
Caleb’s confidence was intoxicating, his touch firm and knowing as his hands roamed over my body. When he tugged me into his lap, my heart hammered in my chest, torn between exhilaration and a flicker of hesitation.
“Caleb,” I murmured, breaking the kiss as his hands slid under my shirt.
“Relax, Emma,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my neck. “I’ve got you.”
For a second, I let myself get lost in the moment—the heat of his touch, the urgency of his kiss—but when his hands moved lower, reality came crashing back. I pulled away, breathless and trembling.
“Wait,” I said, my voice shaky. “I can’t… I’m not ready.”
Caleb froze, his eyes searching mine. Then he nodded, his expression softening as he cupped my face in his hands. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice steady. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
His understanding only made my emotions more complicated. As I leaned back against the seat, trying to catch my breath, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in way over my head.
***
The rumors started the next day, as they always did in our small, gossip-fueled school. By lunchtime, everyone seemed to know about me and Caleb—about our late-night rides and whispered conversations. It didn’t take long for the news to reach Logan.
He cornered me after class, his face a mix of anger and something deeper I couldn’t quite place. “You’re seriously with him?” he asked, his voice low but furious. “Caleb Torres?”
I crossed my arms, my chest tightening at the raw frustration in his tone. “Why do you care?”
“Because he’s bad news, Emma,” Logan shot back. “He’s going to hurt you.”
I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “And you didn’t? Newsflash, Logan: you’re not exactly a saint.”
“That’s not what this is about!” Logan snapped, stepping closer. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you being with someone who doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you think Vanessa deserves you?” I fired back, my voice sharp. “You’ve got her now, Logan. Why don’t you focus on your own mess and leave me alone?”
His jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice quieter now, almost desperate. “I… I care about you, Emma. I always have.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest, but I forced myself to stay composed. “You have a funny way of showing it,” I said coldly, brushing past him before he could say more.
