Amy’s POV
The next morning, I didn’t open my phone. I saw it buzzing on the nightstand—James’s name lighting up my screen again and again—but I didn’t touch it. I couldn’t. Not yet.
I needed space. I needed silence.
That kiss last night had cracked something open in me, and now it wouldn’t stop pouring out—feelings I didn’t plan, warmth I didn’t expect, a fluttering in my chest I hadn’t felt in a long time. It had been real. Too real. And that wasn’t part of the plan.
This was supposed to be fake. Flirty. A game.
But now I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had looked at me in the dark, like I wasn’t just some girl he was helping out of a breakup. Like I was the only girl that existed in that moment.
And maybe that was the scariest part.
I tossed my phone in my bag and headed out. It was the last day of summer break, and I couldn’t stay in bed forever. I needed air. Coffee. Something that would make me feel grounded again. So I walked to Millie’s Diner, the one that sat on the corner of Main and Oak, with its peeling teal booths and old jukebox that never worked.
I wasn’t expecting to see them.
But there they were.
Camilla and Charlie.
Sitting at a booth near the window like they hadn’t just broken the last pieces of my heart two weeks ago. Camilla was dressed in one of her tiny tank tops, gold hoops glinting under the overhead lights. Charlie wore his favorite letterman jacket, the one I’d given him for Christmas last year. He was picking at fries like he hadn’t just destroyed my entire world and moved on without blinking.
And to make it worse?
James walked in behind me.
Of all the diners in town. Of all the hours in the day. Why now?
I turned my head, trying to duck away, but it was too late. Camilla’s eyes locked on me like a hawk spotting a mouse.
Her lips curled. Her glare sharpened.
Charlie looked up, and when he saw me—and then saw James beside me—his jaw clenched so hard I could hear the tension from across the room.
James noticed too.
He didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders in one smooth motion, tugging me closer like it was the most natural thing in the world. My heart jumped in my chest. He didn’t say a word, but the way his fingers rested lightly on my shoulder sent heat racing through me.
“What the fuck are you doing with my rival QB?” Charlie’s voice cut through the diner like a blade.
People turned to look. Forks paused mid-bite. A waitress froze beside the coffee machine.
James smiled—cool, casual, unbothered. “Keeping her warm.”
That was all he said. No apology. No explanation. Just those three words.
Charlie’s face went red.
Then he lunged.
It happened fast. Too fast. One second, Charlie was standing, his fists clenched at his sides, and the next he was reaching for James like he wanted to rip him apart.
But James didn’t flinch.
His fist connected with Charlie’s face in one clean, hard punch—sharp and perfect and full of purpose.
Charlie stumbled back, knocking over a chair as he grabbed his jaw with a groan.
Camilla shrieked, jumping up from her booth like her designer boots had been set on fire.
“Let your fake-ass boyfriend keep his hands off my boyfriend!” she screamed, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t cry.
I just sat down at the nearest booth, picked up the chocolate milkshake I’d ordered before I saw them, and took a slow, deliberate sip through the striped paper straw.
The taste was sweet, icy, and perfect.
And then I said it.
Calmly. Clearly. Without a tremble in my voice.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, looking directly at her, then at Charlie, who was still holding his jaw.
“He’s an upgrade.”