Too Late For His Desperate Proposal

g. I was the quiet girl who always had a bandage for hi

sister. That's all." He fell for the cruel and gla

p him, then hired a man to attack me in an alley. The t

e she was capable of such evil, choosing the monster he'd

ered me a future, and we planned a fake

lden crashed the ceremony. He fell to

hloe," he crie

pte

Wall

d a lifetime to hear. "It' s always been you." He knelt before me, his handsome face e

y who had been my entire world. Then, I looked past him, to the

ps. "Holden," I said, my voice clea

a different color. It had been

ter and music swirled around me, but I only had eyes for one person. Holden. He was standing by the impromptu stage, the setting sun ca

ed. And I, Chloe Waller, was just a quiet moon, content to circle in h

utious one. He was the one who scraped his knees, and I was the one who always had a bandage ready. He saw me a

make a move on Fabiola Clarke?" one of

ersity' s reigning queen bee, an influencer with a million followers and a tr

stomach flutter. This time, it felt like a stone dropping

ght for months," another friend chimed in. "What' s the hold-

k tree, the rough bark digging into my shoulder bl

ive. "Chloe? Don' t be ridiculous. She' s

st

my dreams. I' d heard it a thousand times, but this time, in the c

ecause Fabiola is a score. Her family owns half th

d, a hint of defensiveness in his to

hung in the air: Di

ll. I found a deserted corner behind the library, a place where the shadows were deep and comforting.

ad only ever existed in my head

then that' s what I would be. I would bury my feelings so deep he' d never find them. I would smile

ked back into the festival, a carefully construct

m. Holden was standing in the middle of the crowded lawn, holding a single, perfect red rose. He wa

plosions. "I know I' ve been slow to act, but the truth is,

r designer dress, let out a delighted gasp. She took the rose, her perfectly manicu

, a deep, passionate kiss that sealed thei

ildflowers I' d picked for him earlier, a silly, hopeful gesture, felt like a bund

ampus exit, I passed a trash can. Without a second thought, I to

mocking smile t

myself, the words a silent, painful

d appeared in my inbox, a casual "You gotta come, Chlo!" text attached. My first instinct was to delete it, to

I w

the glitter and glam of Fabiola' s friends. The house was thrumming

made it!" He wrapped me in a familiar, bone-crushing hug. For a secon

her hand. "Chloe, this is Fabiola

rip was cool and firm as we shook hands. "It' s so lovely to fin

I managed, my own smile f

sessively around Holden' s waist. "He told

again. That

, my voice sounding surprisingly ste

little to numb the ache in my chest. I spent the rest of the night on the periphery, a ghost at the

against Holden, looking tired but triumphant. Holde

getting home?" he a

give you a ride, Chloe. It' s no trouble at all." It wasn' t a question;

ough my alcohol-induced haze. "No, thanks," I sa

lled away from the curb, I glanced in the rearview mirror. I saw Holden take a step toward the door, a frown on his

t even

and silent, as the car spe

d-faced older man, asked gently, h

ng my face. "No. I' m just..

ed like ash

e' d taught me how to ride a bike. He' d punched a bully in the nose for pulling my hair in third grade an

do a nine-year-old could muster, "Don' t cry, Chlo

r and more profound. I had followed him, supported him, cheered for him from the sidelines

sed to prote

oing to prote