Almost forgiven

The smoothie dripped condensation onto George's fingers as he stood on the sidewalk outside the East Ridge Children's Center, staring at Fiona like she was someone he used to know. The sun was behind her, low and hazy, casting a soft glow around her face.

She looked hopeful. Vulnerable. Dangerous.

"You really came all the way out here?" he said finally.

Fiona nodded. "Lila lent me her bike. It's a miracle I didn't crash."

George almost smiled—but didn't.

"I wasn't expecting you," he said.

"That makes two of us," she replied, voice quiet. "I didn't expect you to disappear for a week either."

He took a sip of the smoothie, slow. "You lied to me, Fiona."

"I know."

"You danced with Tyler."

"I know."

"You wore the dress."

She smiled faintly. "It was a good dress."

George looked away, jaw clenching. "You made me feel like a fool. Like I was the only one taking us seriously."

"That's not true."

"It felt true."

The breeze rustled between them, filling the space where her apology hovered but hadn't landed.

Fiona took a step forward. "You're not the only one who was scared."

He didn't reply.

"I didn't expect to care about you this much," she continued. "You're not… you're not just some rich guy I hooked up with at a scholarship mixer. You see through me, George. And that terrifies me."

George's eyes softened just slightly. "So you pushed me away."

"I didn't mean to. But yeah. I guess I did."

"And now?"

"I'm trying not to."

He exhaled. "You broke something, Fiona."

"I know."

"I'm not sure it can be fixed."

"I'm not asking for it to be perfect," she said. "I just want the chance to earn you back."

He studied her, quiet. His face unreadable. Then, slowly, he handed her back the smoothie cup. "You forgot the protein shot."

Fiona laughed, surprised. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious."

"That's what you're mad about now?"

"I paid for your barista classes," he said dryly. "And this is how you repay me?"

The tension cracked, just a little. She smiled, wide and genuine, and this time—this time—he let the corner of his mouth lift.

"I missed that," she said softly.

He didn't say he missed her too. But he didn't walk away either.

Later that evening, they sat in his penthouse living room—the first time she'd been there since The Party Incident. The lights were dim. A record played somewhere in the background. Fiona sipped tea while George scrolled on his tablet, legs stretched across the coffee table, silence between them again—but this time, it wasn't cold.

"Do you ever feel like we're on borrowed time?" Fiona asked suddenly.

George glanced up. "What do you mean?"

"Like… this thing between us. It's so intense, it feels like it's going to burn out any second."

He set the tablet down. "That's because you keep throwing gasoline on it."

Fiona winced. "Fair."

He studied her. "Do you want it to burn out?"

"No," she said immediately. "But sometimes I worry I'll mess it up again. That I already have."

"You did," George said, not cruelly—just honestly. "But that doesn't mean it's over."

Fiona looked at him, eyes wide. "It doesn't?"

He shrugged. "You showed up. You owned it. That's more than most people ever do."

"So… we're okay?"

He leaned back. "We're... almost okay."

She smiled. "Almost forgiven?"

He raised his tea cup. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Red Dress."

That night, when she got back to her dorm, Lila was waiting with a face mask and a giant bowl of popcorn.

"So?" she asked, jumping up. "What happened?"

Fiona collapsed onto the bed. "He talked to me."

"Is that it?"

"He almost forgave me."

Lila narrowed her eyes. "Girl, 'almost' is not a destination."

"I'll take it."

Lila handed her a sheet mask. "He's still in love with you, isn't he?"

Fiona placed the cold mask on her face and grinned beneath it. "I think so."

But nothing at Kingswood College stayed peaceful for long.

Monday morning, Fiona walked into her lecture hall and saw Tyler Cain standing at the front of the room, grinning like the smug billionaire brat he was.

He was wearing sunglasses indoors.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the professor said, gesturing to Tyler, "please welcome guest speaker Tyler Cain, CEO of Cain Athletics."

Fiona groaned and sank low in her seat.

When Tyler caught her eye, he winked.

Lila leaned over. "I thought you said this chapter was closed?"

"It was. I didn't know he was guest lecturing today!"

"Well, you better pray George doesn't find out."

Fiona's phone buzzed.

George: Heard Cain's on campus. Hope you're sitting far away.

She blanched.

Then:

George (again): Also… I miss you.

Fiona smiled.

Almost forgiven.

But not quite safe yet.

Tyler Cain had a voice made for lies—smooth, confident, just enough gravel to make girls forget he was chaos wrapped in cologne.

And unfortunately, he was back.

"Great innovators don't wait for permission," Tyler told the Econ 204 class, arms stretched like a TED Talk prophet. "They just do the damn thing and figure it out after."

The class laughed. The professor chuckled nervously. Fiona just rolled her eyes.

He was in his element. Armani shirt. Rolex glinting. Acting like he hadn't nearly ruined her life two weeks ago.

As soon as the lecture ended, Fiona bolted, weaving through the rows before Tyler could catch her. But she didn't move fast enough.

"Fi," he called, catching up just outside the hall. "No hello for your favorite billionaire bad boy?"

She didn't stop walking. "You're not even top five anymore."

"Ouch."

"I mean it, Tyler. Whatever game you're playing—"

"Relax." He walked backward in front of her, grin wide. "I just wanted to see how your little Preston fairytale was going."

She stopped. "You know how it's going. You saw the pictures. You were in the pictures."

"Guilty," he said with mock innocence. "But hey, who told you to wear that dress?"

Fiona's hands clenched. "You know what? I'm not doing this with you."

"Doing what?"

"Letting you mess with my life again. I made one mistake showing up to your party, and I've been paying for it ever since."

Tyler leaned closer, voice lower. "You didn't look like you regretted it that night."

She shoved past him.

By the time she reached the café near the student green, Fiona was shaking—not from fear, but from the frustration of constantly cleaning up messes that weren't even hers anymore.

George was already waiting, seated in their old corner booth. No blazer today. Just a simple white tee, jeans, and that unreadable expression she hated loving.

He looked up as she slid into the seat across from him.

"You saw him, didn't you?" he asked.

Fiona nodded. "Right after class."

"Did he talk to you?"

"Briefly. He was being... Tyler."

George looked away.

"Please don't shut down again," she said quickly. "He's the one playing games, not me."

George was silent for a moment. Then he said, "You didn't look like you hated it in those pictures, Fiona."

Her chest tightened. "I didn't know anyone was taking pictures. I didn't even want to be there."

"Then why did you go?"

She hesitated. "Because I wanted to feel... free. Just for a second. Like I wasn't someone's girlfriend, or someone's scholarship token, or someone's project."

George frowned. "You think I treat you like a project?"

"No," she said gently. "But sometimes I feel like I'm being watched. Judged. By your world. And I don't always know how to belong in it."

That landed. George sat back, expression softer now.

"You belong in any world you choose," he said quietly.

She looked up. "Do I still belong in yours?"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he reached across the table, took her hand, and held it like a question—and an answer all at once.

But peace never lasted long.

By that evening, screenshots were flying across group chats like wildfire.

A new post from the "Kingswood Whispers" account had gone viral:

BREAKING: Cain & King spotted last night… again? Sources say things aren't over between Fiona and the athletic heir. Is Preston in the dark—or just the backup plan?

Underneath it: a blurry photo. Fiona and Tyler outside the Econ building. Too close. Her face angry. His smile smug.

The comments were brutal.

"Red Dress Queen strikes again."

"Poor George. Hope he signs a prenup."

"She's for the streets."

Fiona stared at the screen, heart racing.

Lila, sitting beside her, covered her mouth. "This is bad."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"I know. But this doesn't look innocent."

Fiona grabbed her phone.

Fiona: Please don't believe the post. It's not what it looks like.

She watched the screen.

Read.

No reply.

She groaned. "Why does this keep happening?"

"Because Tyler Cain is a walking scandal," Lila muttered. "And he's not done with you."

The next morning, George didn't show up to class.

Again.

Fiona sat through the lecture in a daze, barely absorbing a word. When class ended, she raced out and headed straight for George's penthouse.

She didn't knock this time.

She banged.

"George!" she called. "Open the door! You saw the post, I know you did. But I swear, it's not true."

Nothing.

She banged again. "If you're going to punish me for things I didn't even do, then just say it!"

Finally, the door opened.

George stood there, eyes tired, phone in hand. "I know you didn't do anything."

Fiona blinked. "You… believe me?"

"I saw the security footage from the building. You walked away. He followed you."

Relief hit her like a wave.

"But," he added, voice flat, "this isn't just about trust anymore."

She stiffened. "What do you mean?"

He stepped aside. "Come in."

Inside, the penthouse was colder than usual. The windows were open, letting in the summer air, but it still felt... off.

"I got a call this morning," George said, dropping his phone on the table. "From my mother."

Fiona sat down slowly. "Okay…"

"She's worried. About the rumors. About you."

Fiona's face flushed. "So she wants you to break up with me?"

"She thinks I'm distracted."

"Are you?"

George looked at her, long and hard. "You were supposed to be the thing that grounded me."

Her throat tightened. "I still can be."

"I don't know if we're grounding each other anymore... or just pulling each other under."