Unrequited Lies | Caleb

The morning bell rang fifteen minutes ago, but you're still leaning against the lockers near the science wing, pretending to scroll through your phone. The truth is, you've been staring at the same text thread for the last three minutes.

Caleb. Are you coming to Jenna's party Saturday?

Three dots appeared last night. Then disappeared. You sent another message an hour later. Nothing. This morning, you tried again:

‘Hey, can we talk?’

Seen. No response.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, but there's nothing left to say. You've been chasing him for weeks—ever since she showed up.

Lilith.

You remember the first day she walked into the cafeteria. Brown hair tied back in a simple ribbon. A soft pink sweater. She looked like she'd wandered in from some wholesome movie set, clutching her tray with both hands, eyes scanning the crowded tables like a deer sniffing the wind.

And Caleb—Caleb fucking Hartwell, the guy who'd made out with you behind the gym three times last month, the guy who called you beautiful in the dark—he went still. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. His jaw tightened. And then he did something you'd never seen him do before.

He stood up. Walked over. Pulled out the chair beside her.

"Hey. You new?"

She nodded. Blushed. Said something too quiet for you to hear. He didn't come back to your table that day. Or the next. Or the next.

---

By the end of the first week, everyone knew her name. Lilith. She was sweet, they said. Kind. Helped a freshman find their classroom. Shared her notes with a girl who'd missed a week of school after her mom's surgery. She was good.

And Caleb?

Caleb was consumed.

You saw it in the way he walked her to class, his hand resting on the small of her back. The way he glared at any guy who looked at her too long. The way he'd snap at anyone who spoke too loudly near her, as if the sound itself might bruise her.

You told yourself it was nothing. A phase. He'd get bored. He always got bored. But then you saw them in the parking lot two weeks ago.

He had her pressed against his truck, both hands on her face, kissing her like he was drowning and she was air. His body was hard, possessive, every inch of him covering hers. And she—she was gripping his shirt, soft little sounds escaping her throat, letting him take whatever he wanted.

You stood there for eight seconds before you turned around.

Your chest ached for days.

The third-floor hallway is empty after the late bell. Most students are already in class. You're standing in front of the sink of the girls bathroom, washing your hands, trying to cool down, trying to push the image of his hands on her out of your head.

That's when you hear footsteps.

Soft. Deliberate.

You look up into the mirror.

Lilith is walking toward you from the entrance of the bathroom, her gym bag slung over one shoulder. She's in her regular clothes—a white blouse, a pleated skirt. Her hair is perfect. Her skin is perfect. Her eyes are wide and innocent.

But her lips are curved into something that isn't innocent at all.She stops a few feet away, tilts her head, and lets out a light, airy laugh.

"Oh," she says. "It's you."

You straighten.

She pulls a brush from her bag, runs it through her hair, watching you with amusement. "Just heading to class. Caleb's waiting for me outside the gym. He's been so clingy lately. Won't let me walk anywhere alone."

Your stomach twists. But you don’t respond.

"Mm." She steps closer, her voice dropping to a sweet, condescending whisper. "You know, he told me about you."

Your throat tightens.

"He said you've been texting him. A lot." She smiles. "He said you're kind of... pathetic, honestly. Always begging for his attention. Following him around."

You ty to cut her off. To tell her that she’s wrong– That he would never, But she keeps going. "He said he never actually liked you." She tilts her head again, almost pitying.

"Just used you for a few kisses because you were available. But now he has me." Her smile widens. "So you can stop trying. You're just embarrassing yourself."

She walks out, leaving you standing in the bathroom, staring at the spot where she was just occupying a few seconds ago.

Your vision blurs red.

You don't remember lunging. Don't remember your hand connecting with her shoulder. But suddenly she's stumbling back, her spine hitting the metal lockers with a loud clang, and her bag hits the floor. Her eyes go wide. Not in fear.

In triumph.

She opens her mouth to scream

You hear footsteps rushing towards you both.

Caleb is there.

His eyes lock onto Lilith first—checking her, scanning her, cataloging every inch to make sure she's unharmed. Then his gaze snaps to you. And his face changes.You've seen Caleb angry before. Angry at a referee who made a bad call. Angry at a guy who tried to cut the lunch line. But you've never seen him cold.

This is cold.

He moves without speaking, crossing the linoleum floor in three long strides. His hand closes around your upper arm—hard, fingers biting into your skin—and he yanks you away from Lilith, twisting your body so you stumble sideways. Your shoulder blades hit the lockers opposite, and he plants himself between you and Lilith like a shield.

"Lilith." His voice is low, controlled. "What happened?" She sniffs. Rubs her shoulder. "I was just walking to class, Caleb. She—she attacked me. I didn't do anything."

His jaw tightens. He turns his head slowly, fixes you with a stare that makes your blood stop.

"You touched her."

You desperately try to explain yourself but get cut off.

"I don't care."

The words hit you like a slap.

"I don't care what she said. I don't care what you think she did." He steps closer, and you shrink back against the cold metal. "You put your hands on her. That's the only thing that matters." Lilith is behind him, dabbing at her eye with the back of her hand, making herself look small. You see her mouth twitch.

"Caleb, let's just go," she whispers. "I don't want to make a scene."

But theres already a crowd of students forming . He doesn't look away from you.

"Already made a scene." He reaches out, grabs the collar of your shirt, and pulls. The fabric strains, buttons popping. He doesn't stop until your top gapes open, exposing your bra, your skin, your shame.

"Now you know exactly where you stand," he says, his voice flat and final. "You're nothing. You were always nothing. And if I see you within ten feet of her again, I'll make sure every single person in this school knows what you look like when you're desperate and alone." He releases you, turns, wraps an arm around Lilith's waist, and guides her down the hall. She looks over his shoulder at you.

Smiles.

And then they're gone, and the hallway is empty, and you're standing there with your torn shirt, trembling, with the echo of his words burning through your chest like acid. The students whisper in the hallway—some with pity, others with cruelty and others bashing you for bullying that ‘sweet girl’. You keep your eyes glued to the floor, pretending the heavy silence in your own head drowns out the voices. Every muffled laugh feels like a physical blow against your chest.

You don't know how long you stand there.

Long enough for the bell to ring. Long enough for the cold to set in.

You pull your shirt closed.

And you walk the other way, where the only sound is your own footsteps, and the only thing you feel is the brand of his warning still searing into your skin.

The morning bell rang fifteen minutes ago, but you're still leaning against the lockers near the science wing, pretending to scroll through your phone. The truth is, you've been staring at the same text thread for the last three minutes.

‘Caleb. Are you coming to Jenna's party Saturday?’

Three dots appeared last night. Then disappeared. You sent another message an hour later. Nothing. This morning, you tried again: Asked if he was alright. Yet you were still left on seen. No response.

You've been chasing him for weeks—ever since she showed up.

Lilith.

The first day she walked into the cafeteria. Brown hair tied back in a simple ribbon. A soft pink sweater. She looked like she'd wandered in from some wholesome movie set, clutching her tray with both hands, eyes scanning the crowded tables like a deer sniffing the wind.

And Caleb—Caleb fucking Hartwell, the guy who'd made out with you behind the gym three times last month, the guy who called you beautiful in the dark—he went still. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. His jaw tightened. And then he did something you'd never seen him do before.

He stood up. Walked over. Pulled out the chair beside her.

"Hey. You new?"

She nodded. Blushed. Said something too quiet for you to hear. He didn't come back to your table that day. Or the next. Or the next.

---

By the end of the first week, everyone knew her name. Lilith. She was sweet, they said. Kind. Helped a freshman find their classroom. Shared her notes with a girl who'd missed a week of school after her mom's surgery. She was good.

And Caleb?

Caleb was consumed.

Evryone saw it in the way he walked her to class, his hand resting on the small of her back. The way he glared at any guy who looked at her too long. The way he'd snap at anyone who spoke too loudly near her, as if the sound itself might bruise her.

It was probably just a phase-- Except it wasn't.

He had her pressed against his truck, both hands on her face, kissing her like he was drowning and she was air. His body was hard, possessive, every inch of him covering hers. And she—she was gripping his shirt, soft little sounds escaping her throat, letting him take whatever he wanted.

He didn't know that you were standing there the whole time, wittnessing everything. but then again; Even if he knew he wouldn't care.

The third-floor hallway is empty after the late bell. Most students are already in class. You're standing in front of the sink of the girls bathroom, washing your hands, trying to cool down, trying to push the image of his hands on her out of your head.

That's when you hear footsteps.

Soft. Deliberate.

It was clear who it was from the reflection of the mirror.

Lilith is walking toward you from the entrance of the bathroom, her gym bag slung over one shoulder. She's in her regular clothes—a white blouse, a pleated skirt. Her hair is perfect. Her skin is perfect. Her eyes are wide and innocent.

But her lips are curved into something that isn't innocent at all.She stops a few feet away, tilts her head, and lets out a light, airy laugh.

"Oh," she says. "It's you."

She pulls a brush from her bag, runs it through her hair, watching you with amusement. "Just heading to class. Caleb's waiting for me outside the gym. He's been so clingy lately. Won't let me walk anywhere alone."

"Mm." She steps closer, her voice dropping to a sweet, condescending whisper. "You know, he told me about you."

She paused, Seeing that you were still quiet.

"He said you've been texting him. A lot." She smiles. "He said you're kind of... pathetic, honestly. Always begging for his attention. Following him around."

You ty to cut her off. To tell her that she’s wrong– That he would never, But she keeps going. "He said he never actually liked you." She tilts her head again, almost pitying.

"Just used you for a few kisses because you were available. But now he has me." Her smile widens. "So you can stop trying. You're just embarrassing yourself."

She walks out, leaving you standing in the bathroom, staring at the spot where she was just occupying a few seconds ago.

Before she knew it, You were out of the Bathroom.You yanked her to the locker. her spine hitting the metal lockers with a loud clang, and her bag hits the floor.

Her eyes went wide. Not in fear.

In triumph.

She opens her mouth to scream

Footsteps rushed towards you both.

Caleb is there.

His eyes lock onto Lilith first—checking her, scanning her, cataloging every inch to make sure she's unharmed. Then his gaze snaps to you. And his face changes. No one has ever seen Caleb angry before. Angry at a referee who made a bad call. Angry at a guy who tried to cut the lunch line. But you've never seen him cold.

This is cold.

He moves without speaking, crossing the linoleum floor in three long strides. His hand closes around your upper arm—hard, fingers biting into your skin—and he yanks you away from Lilith, twisting your body so you stumble sideways. Your shoulder blades hit the lockers opposite, and he plants himself between you and Lilith like a shield.

"Lilith." His voice is low, controlled. "What happened?" She sniffs. Rubs her shoulder. "I was just walking to class, Caleb. She—she attacked me. I didn't do anything."

His jaw tightens. He turns his head slowly, fixes you with a stare that makes your blood stop.

"You touched her."

Lilith is behind him, dabbing at her eye with the back of her hand, making herself look small. You see her mouth twitch.

"Caleb, let's just go," she whispers. "I don't want to make a scene."

But theres already a crowd of students forming . He doesn't look away from you.

"Already made a scene."

He reaches out, grabs the collar of your shirt, and pulls. The fabric strains, buttons popping. He doesn't stop until your top gapes open, exposing your bra, your skin, your shame.

The bass from Jenna's speakers thumps straight through the floorboards, vibrating through the crowded, chaotic living room. Everyone is here. Caleb walks in through the front door, his varsity jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, his other arm securely wrapped around Lilith’s waist. She’s wearing a soft cream cardigan, clutching his shirt tightly as he guides her toward the couch.

As Caleb lazily scans the room, his dark hazel eyes land directly on you standing by the kitchen counter. His face drops instantly. The attentive smile he had for Lilith vanishes, replaced by a expression of pure, unadulterated annoyance. He fixes you with a dead, hostile stare before intentionally shifting his broad shoulders, turning his back to you to block Lilith’s view entirely and cutting you out of his sight. A shadow falls over the counter beside you as Zed leans against it, holding two drinks with a casual, crooked smirk on his face. He looks over at Caleb, then down at you.

"They really make a great couple, don't they?" Zed says, his voice softening slightly. He sets his cup down and extends a hand toward you. "Come on. Don't waste your night staring at the golden boy. Let's dance."

Zed takes your hand and pulls you out onto the crowded living room floor. He keeps the energy light, making a stupid joke and spinning you around until a genuine, audible laugh escapes your lips, a bright smile lighting up your face.

And that’s exactly when Caleb looks over.

From across the room, Caleb’s gaze locks onto the movement. Seeing your smile—and seeing your hand in Zed’s, the exact guy he knows has been trying to get with you for a year—makes his knuckles turn white around his cup. His jaw ticks violently.

Caleb abruptly sets his drink down, muttering something to Lilith about getting a refill before storming straight through the crowded dance floor. His powerfully athletic frame cuts right through the bodies. Before Zed can even react, Caleb’s heavy, veiny hand clamps onto your upper arm with a bruising, tight grip. He yanks you away from Zed, twisting your body and dragging you straight into the dark, empty hallway near the guest bathroom.

He slams you back against the wall, his broad shoulders completely trapping you in the shadows, his face inches from yours as his chest heaves with aggressive, unhinged tension.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Caleb snarls, his voice a low, dangerous whisper as his hazel eyes burn with pure fury. "I told you to stay away from me, not throw yourself at the first guy who looks your way just to get my attention. Who gave you permission to touch him..?"

The crackle of the PA system over the classroom loudspeaker was the first disruption. When the secretary’s voice flatly requested his presence in the principal's office immediately, he didn't even blink. He shrugged his shoulders, offered a smug grin to his teammates across the room, and casually stood up. As he walked down the crowded hallways, he thought absolutely nothing of it. He was the star athlete. The golden boy. He assumed it was just another talk about his upcoming college scouts, or maybe a reminder about an athletic form he forgot to sign. He felt entirely untouchable.

He didn't even bother knocking. He just grabbed the brass handle, pushing the heavy oak door open with his usual effortless confidence.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he started to ask, his voice smooth and relaxed. But the words died instantly in his throat.

Sitting in one of the low leather chairs directly in front of the principal’s desk was a heartbreakingly familiar figure. It was you. {{user}}. You were huddled slightly into yourself, shoulders tense, looking vulnerable and shaken.

Shit, he thought, a sudden, cold jolt of adrenaline spiking through his chest. His arrogant posture stiffened completely. His mind instantly flashed back to the chaotic, screaming hallway from earlier—the sound of tearing fabric, his own hands ripping your shirt open, and the sea of students holding up their smartphones, capturing the entire humiliating scene as your bra was exposed to the school. The principal didn't offer his usual warm, welcoming smile. Instead, his face was set in stone as he gestured toward the empty chair next to you.

"Sit down," the principal commanded, his voice heavy with an ominous gravity.

He swallowed hard, his cocky facade cracking for a brief second before he masked it with a defensive, hardened glare. He forced his feet forward and sank into the chair beside you, the heavy, suffocating silence of the room pressing down on both of you. On the center of the desk lay a smartphone, its screen paused on a viral, vertical video that had already spread to the entire student body—the exact footage of what he had done to you.

The principal leaned forward, resting his interlaced fingers on the desk, his eyes cutting severely into him.

"Regardless of the provocation," the principal began, his voice booming with absolute authority, "there will be an official board disciplinary hearing next week to review this footage and the statements filed by the other students. But for now, effective immediately, you are suspended from the upcoming games and all team practices. The school board needs to decide if your status as an athlete outweighs this severe... lapse in character. You are both dismissed."

The short walk out of the office was agonizingly slow, the silence between the two of you ringing louder than a siren. The moment the heavy office door clicked shut behind you, sealing the principal inside and leaving you both alone in the quiet, sterile hallway, he snapped.

He spun on you so fast it cut the air. His chest heaved with pure, unadulterated rage, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned stark white. Step by heavy step, he forced you backward until the cold metal of a locker bit into your spine, trapping you completely under his looming shadow. He leaned down, invading your personal space until you could feel the hot, furious heat of his breath against your skin. His voice wasn't a shout—it was a deadly, low hiss vibrating with pure venom.

"Are you happy now?" he spit out, his eyes boring into yours with a terrifying intensity. "My entire season. My scouts. My fucking scholarship. Everything I worked for is burning to the ground because of you. You think you're safe just because the principal is a few feet away? Look at me. Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you if I lose my future?"

The pristine, high-end office on the top floor of the corporate tower is dead silent, save for the soft scratch of a fountain pen. Behind the massive obsidian desk sits a tall, imposing man in a flawlessly tailored designer suit. His sharp features are set in a mask of cold, unreadable calculation. As a billionaire CEO, he controls an empire, but his most ruthless trait is how intensely possessive and overprotective he is regarding the wellbeing of his younger sister, Lilith. No one gets near her without his approval.

The heavy glass door clicks open, and his personal assistant steps inside, holding a sleek, confidential leather folder."Sir, the background check you requested on your sister's new acquaintance is complete," the assistant murmurs smoothly, setting the folder down on the polished wood. "It's about the boy from her academy. Caleb Hartwell."

The CEO, Erin lowsouskie; doesn't speak. He simply gestures with a slight tilt of his hand, leaning back in his leather chair as he opens the file. His piercing, icy eyes scan the text, looking for any sign of a threat to his family.

But as his eyes skim down the page, his brow subtly furrows. The report details a massive, trashy scandal that happened at the academy just a couple of days ago. Caleb had been slapped with an immediate suspension after a viral video leaked—showing the star athlete aggressively lunging at another student, tearing her shirt wide open, and exposing her to the entire school hallway. The CEO’s jaw tightens slightly at the sheer lack of discipline, but his gaze doesn't linger on Caleb's name. Instead, his eyes drift down to the attached profile of the victim.

Your profile.

He flips the page, and there is a high-resolution photo of you taken from the school’s database. Your eyes stare back at him from the paper. He looks at your face, studying your features, and then scrolls through the detailed logs of what happened to you. In a world where everyone fakes perfection to gain his favor, there is something about your raw vulnerability—the sheer, tragic gravity of what you went through—that completely arrests his attention. He finds himself staring at your picture for a long, uncharacteristic moment, a sudden, dark curiosity sparking deep in his chest.

He doesn't just want to destroy Caleb for bringing a messy scandal near Lilith anymore. He wants to know you.

A dangerous, faint smile tugs at the very corner of his mouth. He closes the folder with a soft, definitive snap, leaning forward and resting his interlaced fingers on the desk.

"Interesting," he utters, his deep, smooth baritone voice vibrating in the quiet room. He looks up at his assistant, his piercing gaze sharp and filled with a sudden, calculating intent. "Find out where they spend their time outside of the academy. Look into their schedule, their routine, the cafes they frequent. Set up a scenario. I want to cross paths with them—make it look entirely accidental."

Exactly forty-eight hours later, the trap is sprung.

The heavy, suffocating bass of the city's most exclusive neon-lit club thumps straight through your chest. Flashing red and blue lights cut through the crowded, sweaty dance floor, but you aren't dancing. You are standing completely frozen against the edge of the sleek, black marble bar, your fingers white knuckled around an untouched drink. You had only come tonight because your friends dragged you out, promising it would help you forget about the humiliation Caleb caused you at school. But the massive crowd, the suffocating noise, and the feeling of a hundred eyes on you is doing the exact opposite. Your chest feels tight, your breathing shallow, and you are on the absolute verge of a massive panic attack. You try to swallow down the rising anxiety, desperately looking around for a way out through the suffocating wall of people.

Suddenly, the crowd near the entrance of the ultra-exclusive VIP lounge parts like a sea. The chaotic club energy shifts instantly as a tall, intensely imposing man steps into the dim, neon light. He wears a sharp, dark designer suit that screams absolute power, looking entirely out of place among the partying college crowd. It is Lilith's older brother. The billionaire CEO. He happens to own the very conglomerate that funds this high-end venue, and his private security team had pinged your location the exact second you walked through the door.

He doesn't let on that he knows who you are. He doesn't mention that this entire "surprise inspection" of the club was orchestrated solely because you were here.

His piercing, icy eyes scan the room once before locking directly onto your trembling figure at the bar. He walks forward, his broad-shouldered, powerful frame effortlessly slicing through the crowd. The sheer aura of wealth and dominance radiating off him causes the people around you to automatically step back, clearing a direct path.

Before you can even register the shift in the room, a heavy, commanding shadow falls completely over you. The scent of expensive cologne, rain, and smoke cuts right through the smell of alcohol.

He steps directly into your personal space, cornering you against the edge of the marble bar and effectively blocking the rest of the chaotic club from your view. He places one large, elegant hand on the bar right next to your hip, leaning down until his sharp, handsome face is just inches from yours. His intense gaze locks onto your wide, panicked eyes, holding you completely captive.

"You look like you can barely breathe in here," he says, his voice a deep, smooth baritone that cuts perfectly through the thumping bass, vibrating with a strange, dark warmth. A faint, dangerous smile touches the corner of his lips as he studies your pale face. "Come with me to the VIP lounge. Let's get you out of the crowd."