RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 9: FRIDA -

Frida groaned as she dragged her feet along the campus walkway. She shouldn't have agreed to play that stupid game last night.

Now she was stuck with the most humiliating dare imaginable: approaching Laz in his class and telling him how good-looking he was.

"Why would Leah do something so evil?" she muttered under her breath. They weren't in kindergarten anymore.

To make matters worse, the stakes of the game were no coffee for an entire week if she backed out.

No caffeine meant no late night study sessions, which meant certain academic death. She couldn't afford to lose, but this dare felt like a personal attack.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Her steps slowed as she approached the lecture hall, anxiety gripping her chest. She peeked inside, heart racing, but found it empty. Relief washed over her like a cool breeze.

"Thank God," she whispered. With Laz nowhere in sight, she decided to clear her head with a stroll to the campus swimming area.

The pool shimmered under the afternoon sun, its surface rippling gently. She smiled wistfully.

When she was younger, she'd dreamed of being a professional swimmer. She'd been a natural in the water until the injury.

The memory still stung, so she rarely let herself think about it. But there had been one bright spot in that dark time.

Him.

Laz had been there for her when she felt like giving up. It was funny how life worked. They'd started as best friends back in kindergarten, and now they were strangers passing each other on campus.

Now they just hated each other.

She wandered along the pool's edge, lost in thought. The memory hit her like a warm wave.

It was "Parents Come to Work Day," and Laz's parents hadn't shown up.

She could still see his tear streaked face, his small hands clutching his knees as he sobbed in the corner of the classroom. He'd been inconsolable.

Frida had felt awful watching him cry, so she'd done the only thing she could think of.

From her backpack, she pulled out a sheet of smiley face stickers her dad had bought her for Christmas.

They were her prized possession, but seeing Laz like that hurt too much.

She knelt beside him, holding out her hand. "Don't cry," she whispered, pressing one of the stickers onto his tiny palm. "You're too pretty to cry."

When that didn't work, she reached out and gently wiped his tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

Every day after that, she'd bring him a sticker and place it on his cheek. It became their thing.

Frida smiled at the memory, a single tear slipping down her face. Those were simpler times.

Her moment of reflection was cut short when a group of swimmers ran by, laughing loudly.

One of them bumped into her shoulder, and before she knew it, she was teetering on the edge of the pool.

She yelped as her arms flailed, preparing for a cold plunge into the water. But before she hit the surface, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her back with startling force.

Her back collided with something solid a warm, steady chest. She looked up, her breath catching in her throat.

Laz.

His stormy gray eyes met hers, unreadable but intense. Her words caught in her throat as her heart hammered against her ribs.

His hand lingered on her waist for a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back, letting her go.

"Thank you," she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't respond. His eyes flickered over her face for a split second, then he turned and walked away without a word.

Frida stood there, frozen in place, watching his retreating figure. Her skin still tingled where he had touched her, and she realized with a pang how much she missed him.

Not just his touch, him.

She turned back to the pool, her thoughts swirling like the ripples on the water.

It was just a moment, but it had left her breathless. Why did it always feel like he was slipping through her fingers?

Frida turned to leave the pool area, her emotions still tangled in knots. She couldn't stop replaying the way Laz had looked at her so calm, so detached. It was like he didn't care. Or maybe he cared too much.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a splash behind her. She spun around, her heart leaping to her throat.

The pool was empty, save for the shimmering water. Yet something was floating on the surface a small, folded piece of red paper.

Her blood ran cold. No one else was around. Slowly, she walked to the edge of the pool, her hands trembling as she reached for the note.

Unfolding it, she read the familiar, chilling handwriting:

"I told you I'd always catch you."

Frida's breath hitched, her pulse thundering in her ears. She spun around, her eyes darting across the empty deck.

But there was no one there.

She could swear, she saw him leave.