Wrong person 295

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“At 

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It’s not exactly comforting, but it’s familiar. 

M 

And after the chaos that was winter break, familiar feels like a gift. 

ས . 65% 

School hallways always smell the same like cheap sanitizer ad pencil shavings and whatever someone spilled in their locker three months ago that no one’s been brave enough to clean. 

Ye 

I tug my hoodie sleeves down over my wrists as I move through the crowd, dodging a group of freshman huddled around 

someone’s phone and stepping over a dropped protein bar wrapper like it’s an Olympic sport. Everyone’s talking over each 

other – slamming lockers, shuffling binders, laughing like they ve already forgotten that yesterday was Monday. 

911 

11 

fli 

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Day two back. First full week of the new semester. 

2 

Rehearsals started again the moment break ended. Nine hours at school, four hours in the studio, then Asher waiting 

outside with food and that look on his face · the one that says he’s trying not to hover but failing miserably. 

— 

I kind of love it. 

He never lets me skip dinner, no matter how late it is. 

Some nights it’s pho. Sometimes sushi. Last Friday it was tacos so overloaded they fell apart in my lap and he just handed 

me a stack of napkins like he’d been prepared for the disaster. 

He watches me eat like it’s his job. Like I’m going to vanish if he blinks. 

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so seen. Or so steady. 

I shift my backpack higher on my shoulder and sidestep someone who’s walking too slow. I’m already halfway to my locker 

when I check my phone and see his reply to the message I sent earlier. 

Thanks for the good luck text. Already made someone nervous with just a look. I think I’m thriving. 

I grin down at the screen, typing back: 

Try not to make anyone cry before lunch. 

He reads it immediately but doesn’t reply. Probably mid–briefin or already scaring someone into submission with his 

resting murder face. 

I round the corner, mind already halfway into my rehearsal schule, when something warm and solid loops around my 

shoulders and steers me sideways with zero warning. 

“Relax,” a voice says close to my ear. “It’s not a kidnapping. Unless it gets me out of Cale.” 

r 

1/4 

19.26 

Cha 

19:26 Fri, Dec 12 TO 

Chapter 295 

I don’t even have to look. I know that voice. 

Cl 

I pi reli 

Max. 

“You’re touchy before noon,” I say, adjusting my bag. 

“At 

for 

“Don’t act like you’re not thrilled to see me.” 

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65% 

I tilt my head up, and yep – there’s the smug grin. He’s got a hoodie layered under a denim jacket, scuffed–up sneakers, hair a little messy like he either just woke up or actively rebelled against brushing it. Knowing Max, it’s both. 

“You’re walking me to class now?” I ask. “This is new.” 

“Just securing my image,” he says, steering us past a cluster of theater kids practicing choreography with way too much enthusiasm. “Friend of a celebrity and all.” 

I snort. “You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot,” he says, casual and loud enough to make someone nearby glance over. “Don’t ruin the moment.” 

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. 

– 

It’s been a week since I saw him 

since the night outside the restaurant, when he showed up with Piper and she tackled 

me like I was her long–lost fairy godmother. I still think about that moment. Her little voice asking if I’d still be dancing 

at the gala. Her hug. The way Max looked at her like she hung the damn moon. 

“How’s she doing?” I ask now, softening my voice just a little. 

“Piper?” Max nods. “Still spinning through the house like every floor is a stage. Nearly broke the coffee table yesterday 

doing what she called a ‘flying twirl of elegance.“” 

“She okay?” 

“She’s great. She’s been stressed about school and making friends…” He trails off, then glances at me. “I think seeing you helped.” 

I look down for a second, throat tight. “She helped me too.” 

We walk in silence for a moment, weaving through the crowd as the noise around us rises and falls. The hallway bends toward the upper class wing. I don’t really care where we’re going. Neither does he. 

He nudges me with his shoulder. “So. New semester. You surviving?” 

“Barely.” 

“You still doing those four–hour rehearsals?” 

2/4 

Г 

19:26 Fri, Dec 12 T 

Chapter 295 

R 

“Try five. Gala’s in five weeks.” 

He winces. “And you love that?” 

“I don’t know if I love it,” I say honestly. “But it helps.” 

“Helps how?” 

I shrug. “Helps me feel like I’m in control of something. Like I’m still me.” 

He nods like he gets it. Because he does. 

Max has always been like that 

– 

no digging, no pushing, just quiet understanding. 

ས ༢, 65%E 

We pass a wall lined with art projects from last semester. One of them is a charcoal portrait of a wolf that looks like it was 

drawn by someone mid–breakdown. I point at it. 

“That’s what I looked like after my first cold brew this morning 

Max chuckles. “That’s generous. You looked worse.” 

“I hate you.” 

He grins. “You missed me.” 

I roll my eyes, but I don’t deny it. 

“You back in football?” I ask. 

He nods. “Weight room starts this week. Coach wants us all to bulk up before spring scrimmages.” 

“You already have the bulk part down.” 

He flexes, completely unironically. “Just doing my part for the team.” 

I snort. “So noble.” 

“We should get burgers again soon,” he says suddenly, glancing sideways at me, 

I blink. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I miss fries and you complaining about how greasy your hands are.” 

“I do not complain.” 

“Ugh, Max, my fingers are shiny, do you have a napkin?” he mics, pitching his voice higher. 

3/4 

< 

Chapter 295 

“I hate you,” I repeat, trying not to laugh. 

“You love me.” 

“You’re not wrong,” 

We’re still walking – slowly now, like neither of us is in a rush to get anywhere. My class is coming up, but I don’t point it 

out. And Max doesn’t ask. 

He just keeps pace beside me, one hand still slung over my shoulder, like it belongs there. 

Chap 

CH 

I pic relis 

“Ata 

forr 

Mai 

Yes 

19:27 Fri, Dec 12 T 

Falling for my boyfriend’s Navy brother