Never Just Friends

A Reckless Ally

The courtyard was empty when Hanna arrived, the soft hum of the school day barely audible in the distance. She felt the weight of everything—Ciara’s rumors, Finn’s distance, and the constant pressure of living under a microscope. It was all too much, and the weight of it was crushing her. But there was no avoiding the inevitable. She had to meet Elordi. She had to figure out a way to stop Ciara before everything she cared about was destroyed.

Elordi was already there, as usual, leaning casually against the bench. His trademark smirk was firmly in place, but today, it didn’t feel as confident as usual. There was something in his eyes—a sharpness that made Hanna’s stomach twist with unease.

“Rough day?” Elordi asked, his voice laced with amusement, but there was an edge to it, as if he knew more than he was letting on.

“You could say that,” Hanna muttered, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, trying to shield herself from the cold. The air around them felt thick, heavy with the unsaid words between them. “She’s out of control, Elordi. These fake pictures… she’s gone too far.”

Elordi’s smirk faltered slightly, the corners of his lips pulling down as he studied her. The usual mockery in his eyes was replaced by something more serious. “She’s desperate,” he said, his voice low and almost grim. “And desperate people are dangerous.”

Hanna let out a harsh breath, her frustration boiling over. “You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, stepping closer to him. “She’s ruined everything, Elordi. Finn doesn’t even believe me anymore. He thinks I did this.”

Elordi didn’t flinch at her outburst, his expression unreadable. He straightened up from the bench, taking a step closer to her. The air between them felt charged, almost electric, and Hanna couldn’t decide whether it was the tension of the situation or something else that made her pulse quicken.

“Then stop playing defense,” he said, his voice so low now that it felt like a command. “Hit her where it hurts.”

Hanna frowned, confused by his words. “What are you talking about?”

Elordi took another step closer, his presence looming over her. “I’m saying,” he began, his eyes intense, “that maybe it’s time to stop being the good girl. If you want to win, you need to be willing to get your hands dirty.” His words were blunt, but there was something enticing in the way he spoke, something that made Hanna’s heart race.

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts swirling in her mind. “I don’t want to stoop to her level,” she said, her voice shaky. The idea of becoming what she hated, of fighting fire with fire, felt wrong. But deep down, she knew there was a part of her that was desperate enough to consider it. After all, Ciara had already crossed every line. Was there really any point in trying to stay above the mess anymore?

Elordi’s lips curled into a smirk again, but this time, there was something darker about it—something almost predatory. “That’s your problem, Hanna. You’re still thinking like you’ve got something to prove. You’ve been playing nice, playing the victim, and what has it gotten you?” His voice dropped to a whisper, his words sliding under her skin. “People still don’t trust you. Finn’s slipping away. Your reputation’s in the dirt. All because you’re trying to be the better person.”

Hanna’s chest tightened at his words, the truth of them hitting her harder than she was ready for. Was he right? Was she losing everything because she refused to fight dirty? She didn’t know anymore. She was so tired of being the one who always had to play by the rules while Ciara got to make her own.

“What do you have in mind?” Hanna asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She hated herself for asking, hated that a part of her was willing to listen to him, to entertain the idea of fighting back in a way that could ruin everything.

Elordi’s eyes flashed with approval, his smirk widening as if he’d been waiting for her to ask. “Now we’re talking,” he said, his voice laced with excitement. “We’ve got the evidence, right? But what if we gave them something else to talk about? Something that would make everyone question everything they thought they knew about you—and about her.”

Hanna swallowed hard, unsure of what he was suggesting. “What are you saying?” she asked cautiously.

He stepped closer, his tone dark and persuasive. “I’m saying you need to take the power back. Show them you’re not some victim to be trampled. Show them that you can control the narrative. You need to make Ciara’s life a living hell, Hanna. Don’t just sit back and let her destroy you. Take her down, and make sure she never recovers from it.”

For a moment, Hanna was silent, her mind racing. The part of her that was still clinging to hope, still fighting to hold onto the idea of doing the right thing, recoiled at Elordi’s words. But another part of her—the part that was scared, the part that was tired of losing—felt the temptation in his suggestion. If Ciara had already gone this far to ruin her, why not take the fight to her? Why not use every weapon at her disposal to take back control?

But as the thought crossed her mind, something cold twisted in her stomach. Was she really willing to become like Ciara? Was she willing to let Elordi guide her down a path she couldn’t come back from?

“Think about it, Hanna,” Elordi said, his voice coaxing, insistent. “This is the only way to truly win. If you want to stop her, you’ve got to be willing to get dirty.”

Hanna’s heart raced, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to say no, to walk away from Elordi and everything he was offering. But a part of her wondered if, just this once, maybe she should take the chance. Maybe she should stop being the good girl and fight back with everything she had.