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Chapter 61: The End of the Break
Jon's Perspective
There she was. Sam.
Standing in the hallway, surrounded by motion yet still somehow untouched by it. Like the world moved around her, but she remained perfectly still. Untouchable. Unshaken.
Until her eyes met his.
Then she looked shaken.
Not in a bad way—but in that way where a dam is seconds from breaking. Jon had seen her smile, scream, laugh until she couldn't breathe… but this—this quiet storm behind her eyes—was different.
And he felt it too.
His feet moved before his brain gave the order. One moment he was at the classroom door, and the next he was in front of her.
Neither of them said anything for a second. Too many things to say. Too few words that could say them.
"I—" Sam started, then paused. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"
Jon nodded. "Yeah."
They walked side by side, neither touching, neither speaking. But every step felt like something important. Something that mattered.
They ended up behind the gym, where the noise of the halls faded. Just the two of them and the buzz of reality hanging in the air like static.
Jon turned to her. "Okay. Let's talk."
Sam looked at him, her jaw clenched like she was fighting herself. "I messed up," she said with no hesitation.
Jon blinked. "Okay. Didn't expect you to open with that."
"I thought I needed space," Sam said. "But really, I was just scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of you," she said. Then, quickly corrected, "No—not you. Scared of what you meant to me. How fast, how deeply… I've never felt something like this, Jon. It's like you walked into my life and suddenly I needed you. That scared the hell out of me."
Jon let out a quiet breath. "You could've just said that."
"I didn't know it myself until now," she admitted. "I thought I was protecting myself. But all I did was hurt you. And myself."
Jon studied her. "Are you still scared? About being with me? About us?'"
Sam shook her head. "No. That kiss… it wasn't just a spur of the moment thing. It was everything I'm too afraid to say out loud. But I'm done being afraid."
Jon stepped closer. "So what are you saying?"
"I don't want space. I don't want a break. I want you. All of it. The mess, the joy, the chaos—you."
Jon's heart, for a moment, stopped pretending it wasn't still in her hands.
"Good," Jon said, eyes locked on hers. "Because I didn't want the break either. But I respected it. Because I respect you."
Sam's lip quivered slightly. "You're really okay with this?"
He smiled. "I'm okay with us."
Sam launched forward and wrapped her arms around him. This hug wasn't fiery like the kiss—no desperation, no heat—just warmth. The kind that seeped into bones. That said: I'm here. I'm not running anymore.
Jon held her tight. "We're back on, then?"
"We never really ended," she whispered into his chest.
And just like that, the break ended.
They pulled apart, but only enough to see each other.
"Should we tell people we're back together?" Sam asked.
Jon grinned. "Let's keep this between us for now. Let's see how long it takes them to figure it out."
Sam chuckled, wiping at her eyes. "Dork."
"Your dork."
Sam's Perspective
After that Jon was gone.
Back to football practice—back to his world of cleats, drills, and adrenaline.
And Sam… Sam stood behind the gym, alone now. But not lonely.
For the first time in days the quiet didn't feel suffocating. It felt peaceful. Like the first deep breath after surfacing from deep underwater.
She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.
The break was over.
Just thinking it made her chest loosen. Like she'd been carrying a weight and didn't even realize how heavy it had gotten until now. Her arms had ached. Her head had spun. Her heart had twisted itself into knots.
And now? Now the knots were slowly untangling.
Jon had taken it all with such grace. That was the thing that killed her. He could've been bitter. Cold. Passive-aggressive. He had every right to be. But he wasn't. He met her confusion with clarity. Her fear with patience. Her silence with understanding.
God, she loved him.
No.
Not God, she loved him in the poetic, passing way people toss around the word love.
She knew it now. Knew it because she tried to live without him and felt like her soul was missing its axis. Knew it because she ran away from him, only to find herself constantly looking back. Knew it because that kiss in the bathroom wasn't just a kiss—it was an apology, a confession, and a promise, all crammed into one beautiful, messy moment.
Sam smiled as she opened her eyes.
The fear was still there—she'd be lying if she said it was gone. But it wasn't in control anymore. It could sit in the passenger seat while she drove forward, choosing love instead of running from it.
She pulled out her phone and stared at Jon's name in her contacts. The texts they hadn't sent. The calls they didn't make. All the voids created by the break.
Then she opened the camera and snapped a quick selfie. A simple one—no filter, no pose. Just her, smiling softly.
She sent it with a message: "Go crush practice. I'll be here cheering for you."
Not a grand gesture. Just enough to say: I'm not going anywhere.
Sam put her phone away and walked toward the main building.
Her steps were lighter now.
So was her heart.