Chapter 4: Lisa’s Shadow (Tim POV)

Stepped into the college cafeteria, tray in hand, and the midday racket slammed me hard—chatter, forks scraping, burnt fry stink thick in the air. Yesterday stuck to me like sweat—Lisa sprawled naked next to me, pink hair a wild mess on the pillow, Jack’s eyes pinned on me, jeans tight, watching me strut bare through the house. Shook my head, shoved it down, and slid into a seat at an empty table by the window. Sun blasted in, too damn bright, bouncing off the scratched-up tabletop. Grabbed my sandwich, bit in, chewed slow—bread dry as hell in my mouth.

Footsteps tapped behind me. Didn’t look—didn’t have to. That cherry gum snap gave her away. Lisa. Dropped into the chair across from me, no invite, tray banging loud on the table. Kept my eyes on my food, but she was there, hovering, like a damn spider eyeing lunch. Pink hair flashed in the corner of my eye, loud as yesterday morning. She leaned in, elbows digging into the table, sly grin cutting through. Felt it without looking.

“Hey, lover boy,” she said, voice low, sharp, slicing past the cafeteria hum. Gripped my fork tighter, stabbed a fry, jammed it in my mouth. Didn’t bite back. She didn’t care—popped her gum again, loud as a gunshot, scooted her chair closer, legs screeching on the floor. “You were wild at that party, Tim,” she pushed, leaning so close I got a whiff of cherry breath. “All over me, hands everywhere. Remember?”

Swallowed hard, fry lodging in my throat. Sneakers tapped under the table, antsy as hell. “Don’t remember shit,” I said, keeping it flat, eyes glued to my tray. Party flashed—her dragging me upstairs, that dark drink, then blank ‘til I woke up naked. Her laugh hit quick, high and fake, bouncing around. Couple heads turned—some glasses kid smirked like he was in on it. Yanked a loose hair behind my ear, pissed-off habit, and stared her down.

“Oh, you were in deep,” she said, twirling a fry like a trophy. “Dancing, grinding, couldn’t keep off me.” Popped it in her mouth, chewed slow, eyes boring into mine. That grin stayed, sharp as a blade. Shoved my tray back, plastic biting my palms. “You’re full of it, Lisa,” I muttered, loud enough for her, not the room. “Didn’t do jack.”

She tilted her head, pink hair spilling, leaned closer. Knee brushed mine under the table—I jerked back, banged the chair leg hard. “Sure you didn’t,” she teased, voice syrupy with venom. “But damn, Tim, what a night. Gave me everything I wanted.” Licked her lips, slow, pink tongue flashing. Stomach knotted up, sour and tight.

Shot up fast, chair scraping loud. Girl two tables over glanced up from her phone, brows up, then away. “Leave me alone,” I said, snatching my tray. Needed out, needed air. Lisa didn’t budge, just sat there, legs crossed, picking her nails like she ran the joint. “Can’t run from it,” she called as I turned, voice chasing me. Dumped my tray by the door, plates clanging, and shoved outside.

Quad hit me with cool air, leaves crunching under my sneakers. Birds chirped overhead, darting around, too damn loud. Kicked a pebble, sent it skittering, kept walking, hands jammed in my pockets. Her words stuck—wild, all over me. Bullshit, I knew it, but they clawed anyway. Yesterday replayed: her skin bare next to mine, sheets twisted, Jack downstairs, bulge in his jeans, smirking. Yanked my hair again, hard, sting snapping me back for a sec.

Dropped onto a bench by the library, fished my phone out, checked the time—12:47. Too early to bail, didn’t give a damn. Campus buzzed—kids laughing, some dude with a backpack jogging by, dog barking way off. Scrolled my texts, thumb hovering over Jack’s name. Typed “Lisa’s talking shit,” then trashed it. He didn’t need my crap, not with his own brewing. That look he gave me yesterday, though—wouldn’t quit nagging. Locked the phone, shoved it back, leaned my head on the bench, staring at gray clouds piling up.

Cafeteria door banged open behind me, loud enough to jolt me. Twisted around—there she was, strutting out, pink hair swinging, eyes sweeping the quad. Locked on me. Waved, fingers wiggling like we were pals, started my way. Muttered a curse, stood, slung my backpack over one shoulder. Not doing this again. Cut across the grass, sneakers sinking in wet spots, aiming for the lot. “Tim, wait up!” she yelled, voice sharp, playful—like a game I didn’t join.

Didn’t stop, kept moving, weaving past two girls yakking by a tree. Spider hung from a branch, web glinting—I ducked, brushed my sleeve like it might’ve tagged me. Her steps crunched closer, quick, dead-set. Hit the lot, asphalt rough under my soles, glanced back—she was ten feet off, grin still plastered, eyes dark and gleaming. “Can’t dodge me forever,” she said, loud enough a biker’s head turned as he pedaled past.

Spun to face her, fists balled in my pockets. “What do you want, Lisa?” I snapped, short and pissed. She stopped, cocked her hip, popped her gum—sound like a crack. “Just wanna talk,” she said, stepping in, boots clicking pavement. “About us. That night.” Her hand brushed my sleeve—I yanked back, stepped off the curb.

“There’s no us,” I said, low, hard. “You’re making shit up.” Car horn blared somewhere, sharp, sudden—I flinched, eyes darting to the road, then her. She didn’t blink, just stood there, chewing slow, watching me like she’d already won. “Am I?” she asked, head tilting, hair catching the wind. “You sure, Tim?”

Turned away, took two steps toward the lot exit, then froze. Her laugh hit—low, mean, slinking up my spine. “Run all you want,” she said, loud, clear, “but I’ve got proof. Pictures, Tim. You and me, tangled up, naked as hell.” Stopped dead, sneakers scuffing asphalt, breath snagging hard. Pictures. Whipped my head back, locked on her—she waved her phone, screen dark but screaming trouble, like a lit fuse.