Your Rival Saw Me Naked

Chapter 88

POV: Chase

I don’t remember deciding to start drinking.

I just remember the burn in my throat and the way it shuts everything else up for a few seconds at a time.

The bar near campus smells like cheap alcohol and old regret. Sticky floors. Flickering lights. Music too loud for anyone actually listening. It’s the kind of place people go when they don’t want to be seen thinking.

Perfect for me.

I tip the glass back again, ignoring the way my stomach protests. The bartender eyes me warily.

“Last one,” he says.

I don’t argue. I don’t thank him either. I just wait until he turns away and signal for another.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

I don’t need to check it to know it’s not Zoey.

She’s gone. Not in the dramatic, screaming way I always imagined losing her—but cleanly. Surgically. Like she finally cut something out that had been poisoning her.

I deserve it.

That doesn’t make it hurt less.

I stumble outside a while later, the night air slapping me awake just enough to be cruel. My head spins. My chest feels hollow, like someone scraped everything out and forgot to put anything back in.

I don’t go home.

I wander.

Past the campus gates. Past the darkened academic buildings. Past places that still feel haunted by her—benches where she used to sit, paths we walked without thinking.

Every memory feels sharp now.

Her laugh.

Her patience.

The way she believed in me even when I hated myself too much to try.

I drag my hands through my hair and laugh bitterly.

“Idiot,” I mutter to myself.

That’s when I see him.

Scott.

He’s standing near the side entrance of one of the dorms, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. Same smug posture. Same dead-eyed grin that makes my stomach drop straight through the ground.

For a second, I think I’m hallucinating.

Then he looks up and smiles wider.

“Well,” he says. “If it isn’t the prodigal fuck-up.”

My vision goes red.

“What do you want?” I snap, stepping closer.

He straightens slowly, deliberately. “Relax. I just transferred. Same year. Same mess.”

My fists clench.

“Stay away from me,” I growl.

He chuckles. “You always say that.”

I lunge before I even realize it. My shoulder slams into his chest, knocking him back against the wall.

“Don’t say another word,” I warn.

Scott laughs again, breathless. “Still violent. Guess some things never change.”

“You don’t get to talk about change,” I spit. “Not after—”

“After Eli?” he cuts in smoothly.

The name punches the air out of my lungs.

My grip tightens on his collar. “Shut up.”

“You hate it when I say his name,” Scott says calmly. “Almost as much as you hate that you’re still alive.”

Something in me snaps.

I swing.

My fist connects with his jaw, the impact jarring all the way up my arm. He stumbles, then shoves me hard in return. We crash into each other, fists flying, bodies slamming into brick and concrete.

Someone shouts.

I don’t hear it.

All I hear is Eli’s laugh. Eli’s voice. Eli choking on his own blood while I screamed for help that never came fast enough.

Scott slams me into the wall, forearm pressing against my throat.

“You should’ve died with him,” he hisses.

I roar and drive my knee into his ribs. He grunts, loosening his hold just long enough for me to shove him away.

“Say his name again,” I snarl, “and I’ll end you.”

He straightens, wiping blood from his mouth, smiling like this is exactly what he wanted.

“You already did,” he says. “You ended him by surviving.”

The words hit deeper than any punch.

Security lights flick on. Voices approach. Someone yells that campus security is on the way.

Scott steps back, hands raised mockingly. “Looks like you’re still a liability, Chase.”

He turns to leave, then pauses.

“Oh,” he adds casually. “By the way—thanks for the entertainment. Sending Zoey those screenshots was the least I could do.”

My blood runs cold.

“What?” I whisper.

He looks back at me, eyes gleaming. “You didn’t think Ellen suddenly grew a conscience, did you?”

Rage explodes inside me, white-hot and uncontrollable.

“You sent them,” I choke out.

“Of course I did,” he says. “Watching things fall apart is my hobby.”

He leans closer, voice low and vicious. “And watching you lose the only good thing you ever had? That was poetic.”

Security rounds the corner.

Scott backs away, grinning. “See you in class.”

He disappears just as campus security grabs my arms.

I don’t fight them.

I don’t have the energy.

They shove me against the wall, asking questions, shining lights in my face. I answer automatically, my mind replaying Zoey’s voice, her finality, the way she walked away like she’d finally chosen herself without apology.

Ellen’s face flashes through my mind too.

Her tears. Her confessions. The way I used her because she was there—and hated myself every second of it.

I hate her.

Not because she betrayed Zoey.

But because she wasn’t Zoey.

Because every time she touched me, it reminded me of everything I’d already lost.

Because I needed someone and chose the wrong one again.

Security eventually lets me go with a warning and paperwork I barely process. I stagger away, nausea rising in my throat.

I find myself back in my room hours later, sitting on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands.

I grab another bottle from my bag.

Then stop.

Zoey’s voice echoes in my head.

Love without respect is just possession.

I laugh quietly, broken.

“I loved you,” I whisper to the empty room. “And I still ruined you.”

The guilt sits in my chest like a weight I can’t lift. Guilt for Ellen. Guilt for Zoey. Guilt for Eli.

Guilt for surviving.

I hate Ellen for loving me.

I hate myself for needing someone at all.

Most of all, I hate the part of me that still hopes Zoey might come back—

even after I proved I don’t deserve her.

I sink back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the alcohol finally drags me under.

And for the first time, I don’t dream.

I just fall—and keep falling.