LIAM
I shouldn't have hit record.
I don't even remember doing it. Just a stupid impulse—something Beatrice suggested in passing, some twisted insurance that the plan was working.
"Keep a little trophy," she'd said, half-laughing. "So we can play it back when she realizes she was just a pawn."
At the time, I didn't think twice. I didn't think much at all. I just tapped record on my phone and slid it into my jacket pocket that night under the stars.
And now I was back in my basement, sitting on one of the worn-out couches, surrounded by the people I used to think were the only ones who mattered.
My guys—Matteo,Lucas, Levi and Mason —were sprawled across bean bags and armchairs, all wearing the same smug expressions. Beatrice was perched on the arm of the couch beside me, manicured hand lazily wrapped around a wine cooler she hadn't asked permission to open. Her two shadows—Lena and Skye—were whispering and snickering like we were in middle school again.
I hated the sound of it.
But I hadn't stopped it.
"So?" Beatrice asked, tilting her head toward me. "Are you gonna play it or are we just gonna sit here talking about how tragic her outfits are?"
I stared at her, and for the first time, her face looked different to me. Like something had cracked in the perfect plastic.
Still, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the phone.
"Last chance to back out," I muttered.
"Play it," she said sweetly, like a command.
I hit the button.
Zara's voice came through the speaker—quiet, hesitant, real.
"Okay," she'd said.
And the room erupted.
"Oh my God!" Levi shrieked. "She actually said yes?"
Beatrice tossed her head back laughing. "She bought it! That little nobody actually thinks Liam Hunter wants to be her boyfriend."
Mason slapped the back of the couch. "Bro. You are an actor. That whole starry sky crap? Damn!"
Levi was already reaching for the phone. "Send me that. I wanna play it every time she walks by."
Lena gasped between laughs. "We should use it as her ringtone."
Their laughter ricocheted off the basement walls, loud and cruel.
And all I could think was—
She looked up at me like I mattered.
Like I was more than who I used to be.
Like maybe I could be someone real with her.
But I didn't stop the recording. I didn't delete it.
Because some part of me still wanted to be that guy. The one everyone looked at like a king. The one Beatrice called when she needed to win.
"Liam," Beatrice cooed, leaning into me. "You've still got it. I knew you could break her."
I didn't respond.
Because the truth was, I didn't feel like I'd won anything.
I felt sick.
I could still hear Zara's voice echoing in my head. The soft way she'd said okay. The hesitation in her smile. The moment she let her walls down for me—for me.
And I knew exactly what I'd done.
I'd taken something honest and turned it into a punchline.
No different than Beatrice.
No different than I used to be.
"Bro, don't go soft on us now," Matteo said, nudging me. "You're not actually catching feelings for the girl, are you?"
"No," I lied.
I hated what Matteo just did.
Beatrice laughed again. "Of course not. Liam doesn't feel things."
Everyone laughed.
Except me.
Because the voice in my head was louder now. The one I'd been trying to ignore for weeks. The one that spoke when Zara looked at me like I wasn't broken. The one that whispered I was becoming someone else.
And I liked who I was around her more than I liked the guy sitting in this room.
I stood up without a word.
"Where are you going?" Beatrice asked.
"Bathroom."
"Don't be long," she said. "We were thinking about printing her little 'yes' on T-shirts."
I left the basement before I said something I couldn't take back.
Upstairs, the house was quiet. My parents were gone for the weekend—some charity event upstate. The walls felt colder without them here. Colder still with what I'd just done replaying in my head.
I walked into the downstairs bathroom, locked the door, and leaned over the sink.
Staring at my reflection felt like staring at a stranger.
I reached into my pocket again and pulled out the phone. My thumb hovered over the recording.
I could delete it.
I should delete it.
Instead, I hit play again—just once.
"Okay."
So soft. So human.
So real.
And I knew, in that moment, I'd crossed a line.
But I also knew something else—something even worse.
I didn't just feel guilty because we were laughing at her.
I felt guilty because I knew I wasn't laughing with them anymore.
I was falling for her.
And she would never forgive me for what I'd just done.