Chapter 4

Chloe’s legs carried her towards the kitchen on autopilot, the cheerful morning birdsong outside feeling like a grotesque parody. The scent of Leo’s burnt toast, usually a comforting mundanity, now choked her. He stood hunched over the counter, shoveling cereal into his mouth, eyes glued to his phone. Oblivious. Safe.

“Hey,” he mumbled around a mouthful, barely glancing up.

Chloe managed a strangled noise, grabbing a glass and filling it with water she didn’t want. Her hands shook, sloshing water onto the counter. She could feel Gemma’s presence like a physical weight, a phantom camera lens already pointed at her back, dissecting her every micro-expression.

“You okay?” Leo finally looked up, a flicker of concern crossing his face, still soft with sleep. “You look kinda pale.”

“Didn’t sleep well,” she lied, the words sandpaper in her throat. The urge to blurt everything out, to shatter this fragile peace with the sledgehammer of truth, warred with the icy terror Gemma had instilled. He’d hate you. He’d be destroyed. Gemma’s words echoed, drowning out the fragile tendril of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d understand. No. This shame was theirs alone. Or rather, theirs and Gemma’s now.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. She saw the lingering haze of desire she recognized from the past few weeks, a familiar heat that momentarily pushed back the cold dread. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Later? After Gem’s shift at the library?”

The question, once a secret thrill, now felt like a trap springing shut. Gemma’s demand reverberated: Amplify it. Provoke him. Document his desperation. Chloe swallowed hard, summoning a ghost of the reckless desire that fueled their encounters. Perform. For her.

She let her gaze drop deliberately to his mouth, then back to his eyes, holding it a beat too long. A faint blush crept up her neck, only partially feigned. “Maybe,” she murmured, her voice huskier than she intended. “If you can actually tear yourself away from that game for five minutes.” She added a slight challenge, a teasing edge Gemma would approve of.

Leo straightened, blinking. A slow, familiar hunger ignited in his eyes, the nerdy gamer instantly replaced by the predator who had prowled her bedroom nights. He abandoned his cereal box, taking a step closer. The air crackled, thick with their shared secret and the unspoken third presence listening intently. “Try me,” he breathed, a smile playing on his lips, oblivious to the wires tightening around them both.

Chloe offered a small, tight smile, grabbing an apple she wouldn’t eat. “We’ll see.” She fled the kitchen before her mask could crack, the phantom camera burning into her skin. The performance had begun.