Chapter 81: Flamethrower [2]

"I rejected him," Jasmine said then.

I fell silent for a moment, searching her face, still reeling from how bluntly she’d said it.

She rejected him...? Jason?

"I see... May I know why?" I finally asked, careful not to seem too prying. "I thought—I mean, everyone thought you got along," I said, trying not to betray my awkwardness.

Jasmine’s brows drew together as she studied me. "We did get along, and I appreciate Jason a lot, but it didn’t mean like lovers. Or did we look like that from the outside?" She asked, sounding genuinely dumbfounded.

I hesitated. I thought that—had probably assumed it, in fact. I didn’t want to blurt out how inexperienced I actually was with women or relationships, but clearly, I’d read things into their interactions that just weren’t there.

"You think of him as a friend?" I asked, quietly.

She nodded without hesitation, her black hair falling slightly over her forehead in that way that always made her seem more intense, more thoughtful. "He was nervous, you know. He explained that he was feeling awkward, being surrounded by amazing people, like you and the others at your house. And that he felt an inferiority complex toward you, Sydney, even Christopher. So I proposed he could move here, to the Municipal Office. And, well, we got along but I don’t like him like that—I mean..." She shook her head, voice trailing away in embarrassment.

"I see..." I tried to keep my voice even, hiding my surprise—maybe even a little disappointment that Jason hadn’t quite found what he was looking for either. Even though Jason had survived Lexington Charter like the rest of his fellow students—Elena, Alisha, Christopher, Cindy, and even Liu Mei—they all seemed to belong on a different level. They were more outgoing, more assertive, more at home in this new post-apocalyptic reality. Maybe Jason did feel out of place with us. Maybe he saw Jasmine as someone normal, someone quieter, less intense, someone whose gentleness allowed him to hope for a relationship that wasn’t built on chaos and trauma.

"So he decided to move here, to be at your side," I said, piecing it together. "Maybe he felt that was...safer for him?"

Jasmine glanced away, chewing her lower lip. "He thought so, I think. But he misunderstood my feelings. I liked having him around, as a friend. But more than that—no. Just...no chemistry. Not for me."

I nodded, understanding settling in. "What did he say?" I asked quietly.

She sighed. "Just that he understood. And he left. Slipped away quietly before lunch, barely said a word to anyone after I turned him down. I think I hurt him," she admitted, her eyes glistening. "But I didn’t want to lie, to pretend, not now—not about this."

I reached out, resting my hand briefly on her arm in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. "I’ll speak to him—don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes...people just don’t see the signs clearly."

She swallowed, then as if something in her needed to push further, she suddenly grasped my coat sleeve. "Wait, Ryan..."

I stopped in the doorway, looking back. She stood there, cheeks burning, unable to meet my eyes.

"Yeah?" I prompted, voice soft.

Her blush deepened. For a heartbeat she said nothing, then she looked up, and beneath her anxiety and embarrassment, I saw her resolve. "Also," she said in a whisper, "I rejected him for another reason."

My stomach did a little lurch; something in her tone made my skin prickle, as if I already knew what she was going to say.

"Which reason...?" I asked, not sure I wanted to hear it, but needing to anyway.

She bit her lip, her voice the barest thread, but somehow it wrapped completely around my chest. "The one I like is you." Then, abruptly, she let go of my sleeve, her eyes wide with fear at her own admission, and without waiting for a reply, she opened the office door and slipped into the corridor beyond, leaving me speechless and absolutely stunned in the small, quiet room.

For a few long, ringing seconds I was frozen, as if the confession had pressed the pause button on my entire life.

Jasmine. Liked. Me.

What the fuck?

For what felt like endless seconds—maybe minutes—I was held captive by that truth, as if time itself refused to move beyond this crucible of revelation. The echoes of her confession thrummed through my veins, setting aflame every nerve ending with an intoxicating warmth.

And yet, beneath the thrill, a shroud of embarrassment flushed my cheeks. This was the first time—truly, undeniably—that someone had bared their feelings to me in such pure clarity. No coy hints, no playful glances—just plain words, raw and unfiltered.

I was still caught in the maelstrom of this moment when a gentle knock on the door broke the spell.

My gaze flicked upward to find Alisha standing there, framed by the muted light of the hallway.

"You’re quite popular, Ryan," she said, the corner of her lips tilting in amusement.

My blush deepened, the heat washing over me like a tide. "Y...You heard... all that?"

Alisha chuckled softly, settling into the chair opposite me. "Relax. Your secret’s safe with me. Especially from Jason... I doubt his fragile ego would survive hearing that Jasmine’s confession was for you."

"Did you know... about Jason? About how he feels? Did he really hate me?"

Alisha shook her head. "Hate’s too strong a word. Jealousy is closer. You and Christopher—you’re both leaders, both so capable, so different from Jason. To him, it must feel like you’re from another world, unreachable and always ahead."

I tugged at the sleeve of my coat, mind flooded with regret. "If I had only seen it sooner—"

Alisha’s smile softened. "You would have only made things worse. You’re hopelessly dense when it comes to emotions and signs."

"Harsh," I muttered, but there was an edge of humor.

She shrugged. "Sometimes the truth needs to be."

Alisha grew more serious, eyes narrowing. "About the plan to confront the ice creature, find the stones, and activate the device—we’re stepping into something with stakes too high for most. I admire your courage, but I worry deeply for Elena."

Her voice haunted the quiet room, full of protective concern.

"She’s reckless," I admitted. "Too eager, unaware of the true danger."

"That’s what worries me most. I need you to talk her down when the time comes. If it has to be from anyone, it’s got to be you—your word carries weight she can’t ignore."

I nodded. The idea of telling Elena no was daunting, but necessary.

"We’ll leave once she’s stable. I can’t bring her back to my father frozen and broken."

"I won’t drag her to death," I promised. "And as for anyone else... only those who can truly help. Christopher, Cindy, maybe Rachel. The others—I know they wouldn’t hear of it."

Alisha’s smile was brief but genuine. "Thank you."

She turned to leave, pausing at the door. "And don’t let Rebecca’s words cut you too deeply—she respects you more than she shows. Her anger comes from feeling blindsided."

I laughed bitterly. "She might hate me for it."

Alisha shook her head. "You’re just too dense to read feelings properly." She disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone with a mind full of chaos.

The silence stretched until almost painfully, and then I decided it was time. I needed to talk to Jason.

It didn’t take long to find Jason. He was exactly where I half-expected him to be—slouched on a chair in the yard outside the municipal office, right in front of the barricade of cars we had stacked together as our line of defense. The late afternoon light fell across him, harsh and unkind, throwing long shadows that made his tired face look even more worn.

"She told you, didn’t she?" Jason asked the moment he noticed me. His voice was low, flat, but there was a crack in it, like something fragile trying to hold itself together.

"Yeah..." I answered quietly.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and dragged both hands down his face before muttering, "I am so stupid..."

"You aren’t," I replied quickly, almost instinctively.

But he only gave a hollow laugh, the kind that had no joy in it. "I am. I really am. I thought—like an idiot—that she might actually like me. And instead I just ended up humiliating myself. Embarrassing myself. Of course nobody’s ever gonna like me. Who the hell would?"

His laugh turned sharper this time, self-deprecating, as if tearing himself down was easier than letting me try to build him up.

"That’s not true—" I started, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.

"You can’t understand me, Ryan." His eyes finally met mine, and there was a raw edge there that made it impossible to brush his words aside. "You’ve got the looks. The strength. You’re too damn perfect. Sydney, Rachel—they both love you. They count on you. And it’s not just them, even the other girls here look at you differently. You can’t possibly understand what it feels like to be...me."

I swallowed, caught between the truth and the comfort I wanted to give him.

I’m just you with a superpower,

I thought. That was what I wanted to tell him. That I wasn’t as untouchable as he believed. But the words felt hollow in my mouth, pathetic even—like a flimsy attempt to soothe him that would only sound insulting.

So I said nothing.

In the end, not knowing how else to reach him, I just gave him a last look and walked away. My footsteps felt heavier than they should have.

Jasmine’s confession should’ve been something that lit me up, a reminder that not everyone saw me the way Jason did himself. But the truth was, I barely knew her. And my heart was already a tangled mess, caught between Sydney, Rachel, and Elena—three women I cared about deeply, three women I was in love with, and not a single clear answer on how to solve that storm raging inside me.