Cold Shoulder
The week dragged on for JJ, each day blurring into the next, a relentless cycle she couldn’t break. At school, she did everything she could to seem normal. She smothered Will with kisses, hugs—any kind of public affection she could think of. It wasn’t like her, not at all, but what else was she supposed to do?
Will had noticed. She could see it in the way his brow creased when she held him too tightly or when she lingered too long after a kiss. He didn’t say anything, though—and for that, she was grateful. Still, the guilt weighed on her like wet cement. The truth clawed at the back of her throat, begging to be let out.
But how was she supposed to say it?
“Oh hey Will, by the way, last Saturday I made out with Emily.”
Yeah, that wasn’t happening.
And Emily… Emily had been avoiding her like she didn’t exist. After Monday, the teasing remarks were gone—no sarcastic comments, no smug little smiles during class. Nothing. JJ told herself she deserved it, that this cold shoulder was exactly what she had coming. But knowing that didn’t make it sting any less.
No more glances across the room. No more playful staring contests. Just silence.
It was too much—Will’s silent suspicion, Emily’s absence, and everyone else’s constant “Are you okay?” It felt like the walls were closing in, every breath tighter than the last.
The cafeteria buzzed with noise, but JJ couldn't focus on any of it. She was sitting across from Will, picking at the food on her tray with a fork . Will was talking about something– practice, maybe– didn't matter, his voice was like background static.
“JJ” he said suddenly, and she blinked, realizing too late she hadn’t been listening. His brows pulled together, concerned clouding his expression. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me” she snapped back defensively. “I’m fine” she muttered while pushing a piece of food around on her plate.
“No you’re not.” He kept his voice low and steady, not trying to pull any attention. “You barely talk, and when you do it’s just this fake clingy thing.”
“What i’m not allowed to kiss you in public now?”
“Come on JJ, you and I both know it’s more than that. You’re overcompensating. This just isn’t you” His voice was sharper this time, still quiet but it cut deeper than if he were yelling. “Is there something you're not telling me?”
JJ’s heart hammered in her chest, a lump forming in her throat. Oh god not now. She couldn’t break right now, not in front of everyone.
“I’m fine.” she snapped, her voice sharp and louder than intended. Heads turned.
Will's eyes widened. “JJ-”
She didn’t wait for him to finish. She got up and shoved her chair in before gathering her things and practically running out the cafeteria. She could hear her pulse in her ears as she moved through the hallway. Before even realizing where she was going she found herself in the bathroom.
Locking the stall door behind her, JJ slid down until she hit the cold floor, pulling her knees tight to her chest. Her breathing was uneven—short, panicked bursts that made her chest ache. It felt like her whole body was caving in, like every ounce of guilt and pressure was crashing down on her all at once.
Why did she kiss her? Why did she have to ruin everything?
Things were fine before the kiss. She and Emily were actually becoming friends—real friends. Things with Will were steady, comfortable. But now? Now everything was tangled and broken. She’d cheated on her boyfriend. And worst of all? She started it.
Her hands clawed through her hair, pulling just hard enough to feel the sting. Her eyes burned, the threat of tears making her vision blur.
The door creaked open, and she didn’t have to look to know who it was.
“JJ?” Penelope’s voice was soft, cautious—like she already knew how close to the edge JJ was. “You ran out of there pretty fast. Can we talk?”
JJ squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will away the crushing weight in her chest. “Go away, Penelope.” Her voice was raw and shaky, like she’d already been crying—but she fought to steady it.
Silence hung for a second, then came the soft shuffle of footsteps moving closer. “I just want to help—”
“I said go away, Penelope!” The words tore out of her, sharp and cracking at the edges. The sound echoed off the bathroom walls, making the silence that followed feel even heavier.
The footsteps retreated, and the door creaked open again. “I’m here when you want to talk,” Penelope said quietly, and then the door clicked shut behind her.
JJ let out a shaky breath, burying her face in her hands. Great. Add snapping at Penelope to the list of screw-ups.
She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She thought pushing Emily away would help—that if she just acted like the perfect girlfriend, maybe this guilt would fade. But it hadn’t. And she hadn’t expected to miss Emily like this. The teasing, the glances, even the tension—it was all gone, and the emptiness it left behind was unbearable.
This is all my fault.
Soon, she wouldn’t be anyone’s girlfriend. And definitely not Emily’s friend.
The weight finally broke her, and the tears she’d been holding back fell fast and hard, leaving her alone with nothing but regret.
That afternoon, JJ skipped soccer practice. She mumbled something to the coach about a migraine, barely meeting his eyes before leaving. The second she got home, she went straight to her room and shut the door behind her. No dinner. No texts to Will. No schoolwork. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything—not when everything felt like it was falling apart.
The guilt was suffocating, wrapping itself tighter with every passing second. Everything was so messy now, tangled in ways she didn’t know how to undo. She had broken down at school. People had seen her. God, had Emily heard about it? JJ didn’t know if she hoped she had or hadn’t. Maybe someone told her—maybe she already knew how completely JJ was unraveling.
The thought made her stomach twist.
All afternoon, she thought about texting her. The idea clawed at her relentlessly, but every time she picked up her phone, the same question stopped her: What could she even say? She was the one who pushed Emily away. The one who ruined everything. What was left to say that didn’t sound pathetic?
Hours passed like that—her body tense, mind spiraling, trapped in a loop of should I? and what’s the point? She tossed and turned in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that maybe if she just waited long enough, things would fix themselves.
But deep down, she knew better.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reached for her phone and opened her messages. Emily’s contact stared back at her, that little profile picture digging into her chest like a knife. Her hands trembled as she typed, her heart pounding in her ears.
JJ: Hey, can we talk?
She set the phone down, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime. Her heartbeat was too loud, her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t know what she was hoping for—but the reply came faster than she was ready for.
Emily: There’s nothing to talk about.
JJ just stared at the screen, frozen. The message hit like a punch to the gut—short, cold, distant. Like a door slamming in her face.
It felt like dangling off a ledge and having someone step on your fingers, letting you fall.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, debating if she should say something else. Apologize, explain, beg for anything more than that icy dismissal. But what would it change?
She let the phone slip from her hand, falling back onto the bed. The weight of everything pressed down on her until she couldn’t move. She laid there for what felt like hours, eyes locked on the ceiling, her mind circling the same guilt-ridden thoughts until they blurred together into one awful, suffocating feeling.
Her breathing had steadied, but that dreadful ache in her chest hadn’t eased—not even a little.
This isn’t going away.
Without thinking too hard about it, she reached for her phone again. But this time, she didn’t open Emily’s messages. Her thumb hesitated over Penelope’s name before she finally tapped it.
JJ: I’m sorry about earlier. Can you come over?
She stared at the screen, hoping—no, needing—someone to pull her out of this mess, even just for a little while.