Your Rival Saw Me Naked

Chapter 38

I don’t mean to overhear them.

It happens the way most humiliations do—by accident, when you’re not armored yet.

I’m cutting across the quad with my notebook hugged to my chest, head already half-full of half-written sentences for my next paper, when I hear my name carried on laughter. Miles’ laughter. Loud. Unapologetic. The kind that assumes it owns the space it fills.

“Give it a month,” Miles says. “She’ll burn herself out.”

I slow without realizing it, my steps faltering near the stone bench by the fountain. The water masks some of the sound, but not enough.

“Seriously,” he continues. “This whole academic phase? It’s embarrassing.”

Someone snorts. “You think?”

“She’s trying to outrun herself,” Miles goes on. “Won’t work. Chase will drag her back down eventually. He always does.”

My chest tightens, sharp and sudden, like I’ve been punched from the inside.

“Chase doesn’t care about grades,” someone says.

“Exactly,” Miles replies. “That’s the point. She’s climbing and he’s… him. Gravity always wins.”

They laugh again.

And then I see Chase.

He’s leaning against the low wall near them, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. He’s close enough to hear every word. Close enough to interrupt. To shut it down. To say my name like it means something worth defending.

He doesn’t. He just shrugs, like the conversation is background noise, like my life is a joke that isn’t even worth correcting.

My stomach drops.

I turn away before anyone sees me standing there like an idiot, before Miles notices the damage he just did and decides to enjoy it properly.

By the time I make it to class, I feel hollow. Like someone scooped something essential out of me and forgot to put it back.

I sit in my seat and open my notebook, but the words blur. The lecture starts, but it feels like it’s happening underwater. Voices distort. Time stretches.

When the lecture ends, I don’t remember a single thing that was said.

Outside the classroom, Chase catches up to me easily.

“Hey,” he says. “You disappeared.”

I stop walking and turn to face him. “You heard him.”

“Huh?”

“Miles,” I say. “You heard what he said.”

Chase frowns slightly. “About what?”

“About me,” I snap. “About you dragging me down.”

He exhales. “Zoey—”

“Don’t,” I cut in. “Just don’t.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Miles isn’t worth reacting to.”

My laugh comes out sharp. “That’s your defense?”

“I’m not going to get into it with him,” he says. “That’s what he wants.”

“What about what I want?” I ask.

He looks genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted you to say something,” I reply, my voice trembling despite my effort to keep it steady. “I wanted you to stand up for me. For us.”

“Why?” he asks. “You know he’s full of shit.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is, though,” Chase insists. “Why give him power?”

I stare at him, realization blooming slow and painful. “You already did.”

He scoffs. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” I ask quietly. “Or are you just used to me swallowing it?”

“That’s not fair,” he says, irritation creeping in. “I’m trying to keep the peace.”

“Whose peace?” I ask. “Because it’s not mine.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I don’t want to fight.”

“I didn’t either,” I say. “But you let someone insult me right in front of you.”

“I didn’t agree with him.”

“But you didn’t disagree either.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable.

“I can’t fix every little thing,” he says finally.

“I didn’t ask you to fix it,” I reply. “I asked you to care.”

He looks away, jaw tightening. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

Nothing.

The word lands harder than Miles’ laughter ever could.

“I have class,” I say, because if I don’t leave now, I’m going to say something I can’t take back.

I walk away without waiting for his response.

The next class is with Professor Wilson.

I sit near the back today, suddenly desperate to be unseen. My notebook stays open, but my pen doesn’t move. My thoughts are still by the fountain, still listening to laughter that echoes too loudly.

I don’t realize how far gone I am until Professor Wilson’s voice cuts through the fog.

“Zoey?”

I blink, startled. “Yes?”

“You’ve been staring at the same sentence for several minutes,” he says gently. “Are you with us?”

Heat rushes to my face. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

He studies me for a moment, not unkindly. “If you say so.”

He continues the lecture, but a few minutes later, as students break into discussion groups, he approaches my desk.

“You don’t seem fine,” he says quietly.

“I am,” I insist, automatically.

“You don’t have to explain,” he replies. “But you also don’t have to disappear.”

The words hit something raw.

“I just… had a moment,” I say.

He nods. “Those happen.”

I wait for him to ask more questions. To pry. He doesn’t.

“If you need a minute,” he adds, “step outside. The material will still be here when you return.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He gives a small nod and moves on, leaving behind a strange, steady warmth in my chest.

That’s it.

No rescue. No interrogation. Just acknowledgment.

After class, I pack my things slowly, letting the room empty around me. My mind buzzes. My heart doesn't.