CHAPTER 38: The Third Wheel
I dropped my phone onto the comforter, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I could feel it in my throat. My skin felt flushed, the image of Zack—drenched in sweat, his eyes dark with that raw, unhinged promise—burned into my retinas. I let out a long, shaky breath, trying to steady myself.
"Wow," a voice drawled from the doorway. "Looks like he is going to fuck you, Jane."
I shrieked, nearly vaulting off the bed as I scrambled to pull the covers over my lap. My head snapped toward the door, where Heather was leaning against the frame, a half-eaten bag of chips in her hand. She was looking at me with a look of pure, unadulterated amusement.
"Heather?!" I gasped, my face turning a shade of red that felt like it was glowing in the dark. "Are you here the whole time?"
"Yeah," Heather said casually, popping a chip into her mouth with a loud crunch. She didn't look even remotely sorry for scaring the life out of me. "Girl, what happened? I was just here. I told you I was going to get some snacks for us in the kitchen, but you were so glued to that screen you didn't even hear me come back."
I fumbled for my phone, desperately trying to lock the screen before she could see the "Prince" in his sweat-soaked glory. "I... I was just—"
"Just watching a workout video?" Heather finished for me, her eyebrows shooting up toward her hairline. "Because from over here, it looked less like 'fitness' and more like 'foreplay.' Seriously, Jane, I didn't think the Prince had that much... intensity in him."
She walked over and plopped down on the edge of the bed, peering at me over the bag of chips. "So, I'm guessing Saturday isn't just a 'study session' anymore?"
I buried my face in my hands, groaning into my palms. "I didn't think anyone was in the house. I thought I was alone."
"Clearly," Heather chuckled, nudging my shoulder with her elbow. "But honestly? Good for you. Just, maybe next time, check if your bff is in the kitchen before you start melting into your mattress. I don't need to be the third wheel to a digital hookup."
I buried my face in my hands, trying to recover some shred of dignity, but Heather wasn't finished.
"I hate to burst your bubble, Jane," Heather said, leaning back on her elbows and looking remarkably smug, "but I don't think you are going to be free this Saturday."
I looked up, confused. "Why?"
"Girl, you are going to visit my house," she reminded me, pointing a chip at my face. "Did you forget? I'm finally back from my tour in France, and my parents expect you over. We've had this planned for weeks."
My stomach dropped. The reality of my schedule crashed into the "Zack-fever" I'd been nursing. I couldn't bail on Heather—not after she'd been gone so long—but I couldn't just leave Zack hanging after that video.
"I need to talk to him," I muttered, grabbing my phone. I looked at Heather and pointed toward the door. "Can you give me a second? I need some private time with him."
"Fine, fine," Heather laughed, holding up her hands in surrender as she stood up. "I'll go finish my snacks in the kitchen. Try not to fog up the screen, okay?"
Once the door clicked shut, I hit the video call button. My heart hammered as the ringing tone filled the quiet room.
The screen flickered to life, and there was Zack. He was clearly out of the gym now, sitting in what looked like his private study. The harsh gym lighting was gone, replaced by the warm, golden glow of a desk lamp. He looked sweetly tired, his hair damp and messy, wearing a simple white t-shirt that made him look softer, more approachable.
"Hey," he said, his voice dropping into that low, intimate register that always made my skin tingle. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw me. "Miss me already?"
I felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was looking forward to Saturday. "Zack... we might have a problem with our plans."
Zack's smile faltered for a second when I told him about my plans with Heather, but it didn't disappear. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on mine through the screen with a look of pure determination.
"I'm not letting a tour of France ruin my Saturday, Jane," he said, his voice dropping into that low, persuasive hum. "How about this? Go to Heather's. Do the BFF thing. But after you're done—even if it's late—I'll pick you up. We can go back to the lone house. No school, no Heather, no distractions."
At the mention of the lone house, a chill that had nothing to do with desire ran down my spine. I thought of the shadows in the hallways and the cryptic, threatening messages from V. The house that had once felt like a sanctuary now felt like a target.
"I don't know, Zack..." I whispered, clutching my phone tighter. "With everything happening... with V watching us... maybe we should just wait for another time. It doesn't feel safe."
Zack's expression softened, but then a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. "You're worried about the wrong things, Jane. Let me remind you why the lone house is worth the risk."
He reached for the hem of his white t-shirt and pulled it upward. My breath hitched as he revealed his chest, the golden lamplight catching the defined lines of his torso. But it wasn't just his muscles that caught my eye.
Right over his heart, faint but unmistakable, was the lipstick mark from where I had kissed him the night we huddled together in the dark. It was a lingering brand, a scarlet proof of how close we had been.
"I haven't washed it off," he murmured, his thumb grazing the edge of the red smudge on his skin. "I wanted to keep the feeling of you there as long as possible. Now, are you really going to tell me 'some other time' after seeing that?"
I stared at the screen, my heart thundering. Seeing my mark on his bare skin made the fear of V feel distant, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming need to be back in his arms.
The tension in the air was so thick it felt like it might snap, but I took a shaky breath and shook my head at the screen.
"Zack, wait," I whispered, my voice firm despite the way my heart was racing. "Not tonight. We need to do this the right way, without looking over our shoulders. Please... just wait."
Zack stared at me for a long beat, his eyes searching mine. I could see the internal struggle—the "Prince" who always got what he wanted fighting against the man who truly cared about my comfort. He looked down at the lipstick mark on his chest one last time and let out a long, frustrated sigh.
"Fine," he finally rasped, his voice tight. "I'll wait. But Saturday? Saturday is mine, Jane. No excuses."
The call ended, leaving the room suddenly very quiet. I sat there for a moment, the image of his ink-dark eyes and that scarlet mark burned into my mind.
A moment later, the door creaked open and Heather peeked in, holding a fresh bowl of popcorn. "Is the coast clear? Or am I going to walk into a steam room?"
"It's clear," I laughed breathlessly, flopping back onto my pillows. "He's... he's waiting."
"Good," Heather said, climbing onto the bed and tossing a piece of popcorn at me. "Because you look like you need about ten hours of sleep before you deal with that man again."
We spent the rest of the night talking about her trip to France, the upcoming school competition, and how much of a nuisance Luke had become. Slowly, the adrenaline faded, replaced by the familiar comfort of my best friend's presence. By midnight, the lights were out, and the house was silent.
As I drifted off to sleep, I felt safe—but in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if V was still out there in the dark, watching the house and waiting for Saturday just as eagerly as Zack was.
The morning sun slanted through the high windows of the hallway, but the air felt heavy with the lingering tension of the night before. I was at my locker, trying to focus on my books, when I caught sight of Zack further down the corridor. He was practically invisible behind a swarm of girls, all of them vying for the "Prince's" attention.
"Poor Zack," I murmured to myself, a small, private pang of jealousy twisting in my gut. "Always surrounded."
"He certainly draws a crowd, doesn't he?"
The voice was cold, smooth, and entirely unexpected. I spun around, my breath hitching as I found myself looking up at Victor, the enigmatic leader of Class A. He stood with a terrifyingly calm posture, his eyes sharp and analytical.
"G-good morning, Victor," I stammered, my heart racing for a reason I couldn't quite name. There was something about the way he looked at people—like they were pieces on a chessboard.
Victor tilted his head, his gaze shifting toward the crowd around Zack. "He's always popular among the girls, huh?" He side-eyed me, his expression unreadable, making a cold shiver run down my spine. Then, he stepped closer, lowering his voice. "So tell me, Jane... what do you know about him?"
I stepped back, my heels hitting the cold metal of my locker. I opened my mouth to find a way to deflect, my pulse thundering in my ears, when suddenly—
BANG!
A hand shot past my face, slamming my locker door shut with a violent clang that echoed through the hall.
"What's the matter, huh?" Luke growled, leaning into Victor's space, his eyes flashing with a dangerous spark. "Trying to get information from my weaklings now, Victor? Get your own sources."
Victor didn't flinch. He simply looked at Luke's hand, then back at me, a faint, chilling smile touching his lips. "It's been nice talking with you, Jane," he said softly, before turning and walking away with effortless grace.
The silence that followed was thick. Luke turned back to me, his hands deep in his pockets, his usual arrogant smirk firmly in place. I straightened my sweater, trying to hide how much my hands were shaking.
"What?" I snapped, trying to regain my composure. "Are you expecting some gratitude from me?"
Luke let out a short, dry laugh, his eyes scanning the hallway to make sure Victor was gone. "Don't flatter yourself, Jane," he told me, stepping back. "Consider it a playback for the time you didn't rat me out. We're even now."
Luke walked away with a smug tilt of his head, leaving the hallway ringing with the tension he'd just ignited. Before I could even catch my breath, the crowd around the "Prince" finally thinned, and Zack was moving toward me. His pace was hurried, his brow furrowed with a dark focus that told me he'd seen exactly what had gone down.
"What happened?" he asked the second he reached me, his voice tight and low.
I fumbled with my bag, trying to look busy. "Nothing important, Zack. Just school drama."
Zack didn't buy it. He stepped into my space, his presence blocking out the rest of the hallway. He reached out, his fingers gently but firmly catching my chin. "Jane... look at me."
I looked up, meeting those piercing green eyes. They weren't sweet like they were on the video call; they were sharp, protective, and burning with a need for the truth.
"Tell me what happened," he commanded softly. "Why was he there?"
I took a shaky breath, trying to deflect. "Luke was just being Luke. He told me he was thankful for something... some playback for an old favor."
Zack's jaw tightened, and his hand dropped from my chin as he shook his head. "I'm not talking about him, Jane. I'm talking about Victor."
My heart skipped a beat. I hadn't even mentioned his name.
"Victor doesn't just 'talk' to people," Zack continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "He collects information. He looks for weaknesses. Why was the leader of Class A standing over my girl?"
I didn't answer him. I couldn't. How could I tell him that Victor was asking questions about him? That Victor seemed to know there was a connection between us that went deeper than just being classmates? I just stared at the knot in Zack's tie, my silence speaking volumes.
Zack's eyes darkened when he realized I wasn't going to talk. He leaned in closer, his scent of cedar and expensive cologne surrounding me. "If he's threatening you, Jane, or if he mentioned the lone house... you have to tell me."
The hallway seemed to grow quiet, the bustling students fading into a blur as those two words hung in the air between us.
"My girl?" I repeated, the phrase feeling heavy and strange on my tongue.
"Yeah," Zack answered without a second of hesitation. He stepped even closer, his shadow falling over me, his gaze unwavering. "That's what you are. And that's why Victor being anywhere near you makes my blood boil."
I looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the "Prince" mask completely gone. In its place was a guy who was willing to throw away his reputation, his schedule, and his safety just to keep me close. But that was exactly the problem. The closer we got, the more leverage we gave to the person hiding in the shadows.
"Look, Zack..." I said softly, reaching out to steady myself against the cold metal of my locker. I met his green eyes, my heart aching as I forced the words out. "Until we find this 'V'... until we know who is watching us and why... we can't be dating."
Zack's expression didn't just fall; it hardened into something cold and fractured. He looked like I'd just slapped him in front of the entire school.
"You're serious?" he rasped, his voice dropping into a jagged, hurt register. "After everything? After the lone house, and the video, and me walking out on my father's expectations—you're choosing 'V' over us?"
"I'm choosing safety, Zack!" I hissed back, leaning in so the passing students wouldn't hear. "V is using us against each other. Every time we get close, something happens. Victor is asking questions, Luke is lurking, and someone is literally stalking our private moments. I can't do it. Not like this."
Zack slammed his hand against the locker next to mine—not with the violence of Luke, but with a suppressed, trembling frustration.
"So that's it?" he asked, his eyes burning with a mixture of raw desire and sudden resentment. "We just pretend in the hallways? We go back to being the 'Prince' and the 'Nobody' while someone else pulls the strings?"
Zack's hand slowly slid down the metal of the locker, his fingers curling into a tight fist at his side. He didn't look away, but the fire in his eyes dimmed into a cold, hollow acceptance that hurt far worse than his anger.
"Fine," he said, his voice barely a whisper, thick with a bitterness I'd never heard from him before. "If that's what you need to feel safe, Jane... I'll play the part. We'll wait."
He stepped back, creating a physical gap between us that felt like a canyon. Without another word, he turned and began walking toward the classroom, his posture stiff and regal once more—the "Prince" returning to his throne, even if his heart wasn't in it.
I followed a few paces behind, my chest aching. When we stepped through the door of the classroom, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Heather was already there, perched on the edge of her desk and scrolling through her phone. She looked up as we entered, her sharp eyes darting between Zack's stony expression and my pale face.
She didn't miss a beat. She hopped down, the bag of chips from earlier replaced by a notebook, and intercepted me before I could reach my seat.
"Yikes," Heather muttered under her breath so only I could hear. "What happened? You two look like you just signed a peace treaty for a war you didn't want to end."
Zack took his seat at the front, his back perfectly straight, looking every bit the model student as he pulled out his textbooks. He didn't look back at me. Not once.
"We're waiting," I whispered to Heather, sinking into my chair. "Until V is gone."
Heather paused, her hand hovering over her desk. She looked at Zack, then back at me, her expression softening into something unusually serious. "I get it, Jane. Truly. But look at him." She gestured vaguely toward the front of the room. "He looks like he's about to break something. And if you think Victor or Luke didn't notice that shift in the hallway, you're dreaming."
The air in the classroom was thick with the sound of Mr. Peterson's voice as he began to drone on about the new regulations, but the real storm was brewing in the row behind Zack. He was sitting like a statue, his shoulders tight with a silent, frustrated energy that felt ready to snap at any moment.
Under the cover of the desk, Jane shifted forward. Her heart thundered against her ribs as she reached out, sliding her hand beneath the line of the table and resting her palm firmly against Zack's thigh.
The effect was instantaneous.
Zack's entire body jolted for a fraction of a second before he went completely still. The rock-hard tension in his leg began to ebb away as he let out a long, shuddering breath. His shoulders finally dropped from their defensive hunch, and a visible calmness settled over him. For a moment, the "Prince" was back in control, grounded by her touch in the middle of the crowded room.
Beside them, Heather's eyes widened, and she suddenly became very interested in the fine print of her textbook, trying to pretend she hadn't seen the secret contact.
Mr. Peterson cleared his throat, tapping his pointer against the chalkboard to command everyone's final attention. The heavy silence of the room returned as he looked over his spectacles at the class.
"Now that everyone is settled," Mr. Peterson announced, his voice echoing off the walls, "pay close attention. Here are the rules for the upcoming week..."